noise dept.
Fieri Frames
h
Not today Justin
Claire Keane
Doug Jones
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
occasionally subtle
TMBGareOK. The Official They Might Be Giants tumblr
untitled
Product Placement
Fai_Ryy
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
No title available
The Bright Sessions
The Bowery Presents
Game of Thrones Daily
taylor price
ellievsbear
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Indonesia
seen from Netherlands
seen from Israel
seen from Brazil
seen from Türkiye
seen from Chile
seen from Türkiye
seen from Colombia
seen from United States
seen from Switzerland
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Israel
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Türkiye
seen from Venezuela
@loverboykirstein
⟡ ݁₊ . lily ⟡ ݁₊ . 24 ⟡ ݁₊ .she/they⟡ ݁₊ . ⟡ ݁₊ . taurus sun ⟡ ݁₊ .sagittarius moon ⟡ ݁₊ .
| AO3 | MASTERLIST | ABOUT ME | RULES | RECS |
do not feed my works into ai. do not plagiarize, repost, or steal any of my works.
please note! you are responsible for the media you consume.
hi hi i apologize for disappearing for a while - i’ve been working full time + filing grievances + going back to school AND got diagnosed with pots (great combo w/ lyme btw) and haven’t had a moment to breathe in a HOT minute </3
if you see me liking contradicting headcanons for the same character just know it's because I do not give a fuck and I have an active imagination #hewouldsaythat
sometimes it’s not about ‘would he say that or do that’ it’s more like that would be hilarious if he did because I have a jester’s heart
crazy in love | ryomen sukuna
pairing: serial killer!sukuna x reader
summary: sukuna has loved you since you were in high school, and when he finally gets his chance with you, four years after graduation, he's the perfect boyfriend.
he treats you like you're worth more than the entire world, devoted solely to you, committed to keeping you healthy and happy in his arms for all eternity.
if only he wasn't killing people behind your back.
content: 18+ mdni, smut, dub-con in the later chapters, rough sex, yandere sukuna, obsession, stalking, murder, blood, gore, manipulation, deception, unhealthy dynamics, jealousy, cheating (reader cheats on her bf with sukuna), sukuna is awful in this but he's LOVELY to reader exclusively, more tags to be added on a chapter by chapter basis!
chapter 1: temptations
chapter 2: exactly what he wants
chapter 3: everything is romantic
chapter 4: bad at love
chapter 5: everybody scream
chapter 6: the rotten ones
chapter 7: innocence lost
chapter 8: ups and downs (coming soon)
chapter 9: it's nothing new
i finally got around to reading this series and ik there’s something wrong with him but still
kind stranger!choso comes to your ꒰rescue꒱ on a night out ꒰cw꒱ hurt/comfort; angst to fluff; inappropriate touching (back/waist) but choso has something to say about it art creds to @/MOHIMOHINOSIRI 1.3k
You probably should have left when your so called friends did.
But the music was loud, the cocktails were sweet, and you were not ready to end your first night out in forever just because they decided to ditch you. What else were you supposed to do? Go home and cry about it?
Fuck that.
Just one more song couldn't hurt, right?
"Do you come here often?" the guy that had been trying to talk to you all night finally took a seat next to you on the bar, just as you were catching your breath after enjoying the dance floor solo. It was an art, really – evading suitors while twirling around the space, sporting your best don't even try it look anytime someone got too close.
But this one didn't seem to get the hint.
You were getting ready to smile politely, tell him you're taken even though you're not, and watch his face twist in disappointment before he finally left you alone.
But…no – before you could even say anything, you felt a hand slide down your back, and your entire spine tense like it had been electrocuted. Surely he wasn't just sliding his filthy, uninvited hand on you before you had even exchanged a hello?!
You snapped your head to the stranger fast, feeling your stomach drop with anger and disgust, but as you opened your voice to protest – someone else cut in.
"Is he bothering you?"
The voice came from another tall stranger, whose shadow towered above the two of you in a way that was as menacing as it was reassuring. You blinked your eyes to adjust to the light, taking a better look at the only person who bothered to step in.
Dark hair pulled into two twintails above his head. Strands falling loose around his temples, framing a dark tattoo just over his nose. You would have thought he was handsome – had you not been filled with nothing but nausea right now.
"Yes" you replied instantly, a little taken aback by all this. Was it the alcohol that had your stomach suddenly fluttering? Or the way this stranger looked at you – like he was ready to tear the other man's arm clean off?
He nodded, face immediately stiffening as he addressed the man for the first time. "Get your fucking hands off her" he said, matter of fact.
It wasn't dramatic, he didn't even need to raise his voice. And somehow, that was even more effective.
Who the hell was this guy?
"We were having a conversation" the idiot replied, doubling down like he couldn't feel the whole room get colder by the second. You rolled your eyes, moving to snap his hand from your waist yourself, but as soon as you tried he only doubled down – pulling you towards him so harshly you almost fell off the stool.
Wrong move.
One second that disgusting man was next to you, the next, it was like he was floating in the air. The kind stranger had moved quick, too quick, grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt and lifting him up off his seat with an ease that was terrifying.
Well, that was one way of getting him to take his hands off you.
His feet were kicking inches above the floor now, hands flailing as he tried to get away from that iron grip. "Apologise" your tattooed rescuer growled, so condescending it was like he was talking to a younger sibling – but with none of the warmth you'd expect from it.
"Fuck–I'm sorry" he flailed around, spitting the words out before he got unceremoniously thrown on the ground.
You were watching the whole thing with an open mouth, shocked. You were used to being hit on, and having to get out of these situations alone – you were not used to anyone else intervening.
Especially so… effectively.
"Are you ok?" your knight-in-emo-clothes turned to you, tone much softer than it had been just seconds ago.
It was like a switch had flipped as soon as the other man had crawled away. When this kind stranger looked at you now it was almost gentle – but you could see the way his hands were balled into fists, betraying how he really felt.
You were glad to not be alone in your anger.
"Y-yeah" you replied, swallowing thickly. Was it what had just happened, or…. did he make you a little nervous too?
You couldn't help noticing the light trickle of sweat around his temple, and how his chest went up and down in that tight black top. Or the way his eyes were carefully assessing your state himself, just in case you weren't really ok. When was the last time someone had even cared about you that much?
"Where are your friends?" he asked, looking around. Only then did you notice the crowd staring at the two of you, moving away with scrunched eyebrows as if they were scared.
Funny, that. No one seemed to look sideways when that man decided to put his hands on you. No one but this guy – but he didn't seem to notice the crowds reaction.
No, this stranger had eyes only for you.
"They left me" you replied, noting how pitiful it sounded.
"They left you?" he squinted, offended by the statement. He looked at the bartender then, leaning forwards to get his attention. "Can I get some water?" he asked him.
When he slid the glass over the bar, your new friend put it in front of you instead. "Thanks" you blinked, closing your hand around the cold glass. It was like a shock to the system – maybe you had been more anxious than you realised. "What's your name?"
"Choso" he introduced himself, offering you the first smile you had seen from him. Fuck, he was gorgeous.
You offered him your name too, smiling back at him. He looked down for a little second, maybe… shy, all of a sudden? Well, surely not. "Are you sure you're ok?" he asked again.
"I think so" you replied, feeling more than ok in his presence. But your pulse was still raised, and you noticed your hands were restless. "I think I just want to go home now" you sighed. You hated how things like this took a while to settle in sometimes – even though something about this Choso did make you feel nothing but safe.
"You're not driving, are you?" he looked you up and down, that responsible older sibling tone coming back again. It almost made you laugh.
"Think I'll call a taxi, or something" you shrugged. "I don't live far"
He didn't seem too happy about that, either. Choso took a moment, thinking, and then his dark eyes looked at you again. "I can drive you home, if you want" he suggested.
Your immediate answer would have been yes, but you were far too smart to accept rides from men you just met in bars just like that. Even though you wanted nothing more than to be in his presence a little longer.
"You haven't been drinking?" you asked, not meaning to sound so accusatory.
"No, I'm the designated driver" he explained with a slight smile. "I'm taking care of my brother and his friends"
You looked over his shoulders, finally noticing the table full of young adults staring at the two of you with far too gleeful smiles. "That's cute" you laughed.
Choso swallowed thickly, noticing the encouraging group behind him. Suddenly, he seemed to come up with an idea he was pleased about. "Do you want to meet them?" he asked. "Since your friends left"
You looked up at him, surprised. You knew he probably could tell what was going through your mind with the whole car ride thing, which only made his offer even more… kind.
Too kind for someone who almost got in a bar fight because of you just minutes ago.
But Choso looked at you patiently, everything about his tense posture suggesting he really wanted you to say yes. "Sure" you smiled, enjoying his relieved exhale.
You were looking forward to not being strangers anymore.
another one for the making myself feel better through fanfiction collection (also might turn this into a full oneshot soon?? idk we shall see)
permatags @vampyric-puppy @septembermoonchild @plaguecxlt @nanamitiddiechomper @kekeanna266 @amazedfor @dogggggggblog-kaye @literallyadarling @dawnsoblivion @chewiebee @iquitfindingausername @valberryboos @pwd54gr54 @raendarkfaerie @bbfawns @itimisu @sapph22 @bornafairy @sukunahs @hatchus2 @sukubusss @pawwwginaaa @b-bitter @vanillakirstein
dividers by @chrisssiren
Fuck the hat..what’s under your pants?!
overview♤ magicians like choso don’t have an excellent way with words. what other way to score a girl than stealing her panties? i mean..magicians are known for magic. is he actually trying to win you over, or is he just a perverted loser?
warnings♤ magician!choso :: choso is a pervert :: panty stealing :: perverted behavior :: panty play :: cunnilingus :: p and v sex :: degrading :: choso likes being humiliated :: choso keeps his clothes on :: lots of unserious parts :: did i mention panties are involved?! 5.6k words
this is for my 3k event CIRCUS FREAKS !! i have lovely people joining my event, please check them out! thank you all so much, i hope you enjoy magician choso!! art creds to _yehu on x!!
you had never really been into the creepy clown stuff your friend group took interest in. they were just people with face paint on, parading in ridiculously loud outfits. if not clowns, there were other freakish things you couldn’t help but want to avoid.
so when that said friend group asked you to go to the autum circus with them, the idea didn’t exactly jump at you.
“oh my god, stop being such a buzzkill!” your friend inori groaned, shaking you back and forth by the shoulders as if the bobbling would spawn excitement in your head. unsuccessful, you were the least excited you’d ever been! not to mention irritated.
you managed to shoo her hand away. “you people in your obsession with circus actors. this has to be some kind of sick fetish. count me out!”
a string of groans chased the words out of your mouth. did they think complaining would change your mind? your shoulder had become occupied by your friend lana’s forearm instead—she looked quite unhappy.
“i didn’t screw that basement freak just for you to not go. you’re coming with! even if i have to drag you by your thong!”
“you fucked a random guy for circus tickets? really?” you asked, trying your absolute best not to tear her a new one for being a fool. “and i’m not wearing a thong.”
she addressed your question only. “i did! so you better come. i endured so much odor so we could have a fun night.”
your palm found the skin left of your nose, rubbing your face in utter disappointment came naturally in these situations. what a bad friend you’d be to let her down. “i didn’t ask you to do that. but fine, i’ll go.”
your two friends squealed, both hugging you from each side like children fighting over a teddy bear. “thank god! i was actually lying, my job gave them to me!”
you were too generous with your trust, clearly. “you lying snake! maybe you’ll find the love of your life in that circus, since you’re crazy!”
“come on, can’t you get that stick out of your ass for one night? you know you want to come.”
“i’m offended you perceive me that way.”
and yet..you went anyway. you couldn’t explain why, but for some reason you felt like something crazy would happen, something you didn’t want to miss. you weren’t aware that you’d be the target.
you were stood by a cotton candy stand with your friends before the show, actively dodging the sticky hands of children knuckle deep in their caramel corn. what a nightmare.
there was a man standing about a meter away from you, he was dressed oddly formal for not being an obvious actor. he was pale skinned, almost sickeningly so. what he lacked in vitamin d, he made up with his other handsome features. he had markings on his face, in which you assumed were tattoos. but something about those markings seemed unstable.
a manly face and high pigtails, yeah, he was definitely apart of the circus.
you averted your eyes away, figuring it was rude to stare—even if he was probably used to it. the second you turned your head, you felt his eyes on you instead, it must’ve been his turn to stare. there was an intense weight that followed his gaze, and you couldn’t help but feel content with him being right where he belonged! profiling someone so fast must’ve been quite disrespectful, but seriously..this guy gave you the creeps!
when you looked to meet his stare head on, you noticed the markings on his face had changed, shifted. he held eye contact for a good three seconds, only to walk away, passing right behind you—too close.
“enjoy the show.” he said, you didn’t know if his deep voice fit his appearance or not. to be honest, you were surprised to hear he could even mutter a word at all. before you could reply with pretend gratitude, he walked off like nothing happened.
but something did happen. you felt lighter—but where? you could feel the seam in your pants much more prominently, your clit nudged right up against it. that was odd, usually your panties would mask such a feeling. though maybe the fact you’d become so conscious of every sensation made it feel that way.
your hands found the hem of your pants, your thumbs went under the band in search of the fabric you’d find by your hips, but there was none.
where the hell did your panties go!?
how one found their underwear to have vanished in thin air was more than beyond you. your eyes found your friends—did theirs disappear too? did your friend actually drag you to this place by your panties or did something else happen?
your gut told you it had everything to do with the freakish man you made eye contact with. you didn’t know magicians could preform real magic, let alone such lewd tricks. despite how furious you were, there was no certain answer.
“everything okay?” inori asked, though you could tell she was far more excited to see the show than fuss over you. she rubbed your shoulder, leaving lana to carry the heap of snacks she purchased.
you simply nodded, afraid that somehow, someone would realize you were involuntarily going commando. “yeah..all good. we should probably find a spot so we can get a good view.”
lana had a cheeky smile on her face, like the one you’d find on someone who believed they’d won a carnival game. “oohhh! so now you’re excited! did you see a cute guy or something?”
a cute guy, that was only half of the truth. you couldn’t explain to your friends that you believed a pale man in a suit robbed you of something very sacred. it was your prettiest lace pair too, what a bummer! “you think so lowly of me. can we just go?”
both your friends snickered, and you felt as if you were apart of the circus troupe. only there to be laughed and poked at. you might as well have pulled a deck of cards right out your ass! your distress must’ve been obvious, since your friends dragged you away from the concessions without a second thought.
backstage, choso was preparing for his act since he was up next. though, he wasn’t preparing in a way you’d typically find. no, not at all—he was occupied with the task of rubbing the lovely pair of panties he’d snagged all over his tightly set face. he inhaled deeply, and in that moment he wanted nothing more than to take them home and—
—“choso, what the hell are you doing? you’re on soon!” his manager snapped from behind him, it was none other than a lovely woman named utahime. he didn’t perceive her as lovely, not one bit.
“..i’m getting myself ready.” what a lame excuse! he crumbled the panties into a tight ball in his fist. how does one live after being caught by the manager sniffing panties right before a show? he turned his head, quickly shoving them into his pocket. when he turned to face utahime, his eyes were still blown wide.
one of his manager’s eyebrows cocked upward, but she quickly remembered she couldn’t expect normal in a crowd like this. “are you on something?”
“no, ma’am.”
“are you lying to me?”
“no, ma’am”
utahime gave him a look that told him without words she was suspicious, then walked away to deal with things actually worth her time.
“oooh, i saw you.” satoru, another member said from another corner. he had just finished his act, and it seemed that whenever his ego was fed, he became all the more insufferable.
“i will throw a dove at you.” choso threatened. satoru knew he wasn’t joking, it had been done before.
“have you tried approaching women instead of just stealing their underwear? instead of plucking the fruit..you have to eat it.”
what the hell was he talking about?!
choso simply stood, so he could tie the scarfs for his final trick. “worry about yourself. my history with women is none of your business.”
“lack of history, you mean. is that your favorite fairytale, choso?”
choso was already pulling his jacket aside to let out his bodyguard dove, when satoru surrendered. “okay, geez!”
when he went back to tying scarfs, satoru’s eyes wandered to what he was doing. it didn’t take long for him to notice the lacey pair of underwear knotted in with the line of cheap scarfs. before satoru could warn him, utahime came back. “choso, you’re on!”
oh, fuck.
the start of choso’s set was as impressive as anyone could imagine. he did his part well, and people seemed to enjoy the intense atmosphere he created. every trick just seemed so classic, and that alone was enough for people to enjoy it, in a nostalgic way. it was everything they had seen before, a bunny out of his hat, doves flying from his coat—everything.
but what nobody seemed to notice was the change in the markings adorning his face. you knew well enough to keep an eye on them, those were thieving tattoos if they were anything at all! while your friends watched and enjoyed the show, your mind was only focused on waiting for him to fuck up. waiting for your panties to turn up in the middle of a magician act. it was ridiculous, but your gut told you it had all to do with this man.
well, they did appear—much to choso’s dismay. the final act: endless scarfs.
choso began pulling scarfs from his mouth, one after the other in a straight, endless line, giving it its fitting name. he was about four scarfs in when something felt..different. he had done this trick an uncountable amount of times, he knew what each texture felt like on his lips. though, this one felt familiar, like the one he had rubbed against his face before the show.
fuck!
you noticed it before he could try and mask it—your lovely pair of lacy panties, with the culprit you suspected! but you didn’t suspect you’d find them, not like this. not being pulled out of his mouth in front of a whole audience.
nobody seemed to notice, they were too amazed by the act to see that he had quite literally pulled a pair of underwear past his lips, as if it were the rest of the scarfs. it blended in as well as a white rabbit does a black hat, but still, only you seemed to notice. if anyone else did, they did a great show of hiding it.
but oh, choso was distraught inside. the idea of having something you’d just worn in his mouth was enough to seize at least half of his braincells. if he weren’t so petrified of being caught red handed, he’d surely have a boner. he wished he could keep them in his mouth a little longer.
if he wasn’t caught, he’d keep that desire in mind.
choso pulled the rest of the scarfs, wore a fake, forced smile, and bowed. the crowd cheered, roses found the tips of his sleek black shoes, but yet he couldn’t raise his head. because he knew that you were watching, and he knew that he was caught.
his head was throbbing, his heart banging against his chest like it was trying to find a way out, since dying was surely better than this.
the second his head lifted, his eyes found yours in the stands. like some sort of spiritual punisher led him there. surely that was karma! your expression looked utterly furious—that couldn’t be good for him.
choso looked absolutely mortified, you searched your entire moral compass and heart for even a sprinkle of pity, but you found none.
you saw the way he immediately tried to rush backstage, and it sent you shooting up from your seat. naturally, your friends looked at you with puzzled expressions. but you were storming out of the theatre before anybody could get a word out.
signs led you down a hallway to the left, though you were unsure where you could find a manager. you assumed there would be at least one person to talk to wherever backstage was, and you were sure as hell going to find it!
sure enough, you did. it was an obnoxious sign that literally read “backstage entrance” in bold lettering, right on top of some red and white popcorn bucket pattern. before you could even knock, a lovely face met you there.
the woman had a large scar across her face, but you couldn’t even bother giving it any attention. “can i help you m—“
“—i’d like to see your magician.”
the woman looked lost, almost as confused as your friends looked when you stormed out like you had seen something offensive. in a way, you had! such nice panties should’ve been seen in private, or at least not stolen by a thieving pervert.
utahime looked around, as if to search for a camera—like this was some sort of bit. “oh, you’re serious.” she scratched her head, “ma’am if this is some sort of crush thing, i’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”
“oh, please!” you scoffed. “that man is a thief, not to mention a total pervert! i ought to give him a piece of my mind!”
she didn’t get time to look alarmed, since the door opened once again, and it appeared you summoned said ‘total pervert’. you could tell by looking at him he wanted to disappear.
choso’s heart had dropped to his ass—his worst fear of the day came true! you saw the underwear, of course you did. dropping dead was a far better solution than anything that could happen.
“care to explain why this woman is so angry at you, choso?” utahime asked, one eyebrow arched towards her hairline. “surely it’s something you can say in front of me.”
choso looked about the same as an insect looked under a frogs tongue. before you could go on a long tangent about the morality of utahime’s employees, she was called away by the theatre manager. just your luck.
it was only lucky for choso, really. in fact, he instantly looked relieved, as if something could be said to save his own skin.
“i’m getting your ass FIRED, you circus freak!” you shouted, which prompted utahime to look back at the two of you. she knew something was off, but she didn’t know it was your underwear. she didn’t want to know—for both her sake and choso’s. not to mention the fact they’d been in his mouth. that’s a managers worst nightmare!
choso put his hands out, like he was trying to play peacekeeper. “you don’t have to do this. i’m sorry, okay?” when he noticed his apology did nothing, he began worrying again. “..it was an honest mistake. i can return them to you.”
even then, he seemed reluctant.
“return them to me? after they’ve been in your mouth? are you nuts?!” your palm collided with his chest, the very one covered by a sophisticated suit, to which you thought looked ridiculous on him. it was like a rat wearing jewelry. “you probably infected them! with your sexually transmitted diseases or something!”
“..i don’t have STD’s”
“oh! another lie!”
“ma’am, i’m serious.” at this point, he looked offended.
you rolled your eyes, deciding going back and forth was a waste of your time. what did you care? you weren’t going to sleep with him anyway. ultimately you decided you could disinfect them well enough to avoid risk. seriously, that pair was expensive. “whatever, give them back.”
choso’s eyes darted around the room as if he was being interviewed. “oh, yeah. right..” he trailed off, hesitant.
then it made sense to you, he didn’t plan on giving them back.
at that point, you were beyond fed up with this pervert’s bullshit. you stepped up to him, taking it within your right to search his pocket. you held his shoulder with one hand, while the other jammed its way into dangerous territory.
choso tried to step away, his hands could only hover fruitlessly around you, not touching you. while you didn’t find your panties in his pocket, you feels around enough to find out. he didn’t have to tell you it was a boner, his groan when you grabbed it was all the confirmation you needed.
“do you have any shame?” you asked, it was a bit surprising how calm you sounded.
“i can’t help it.” his eyes found the floor, and you couldn’t help but think about how pathetic he looked. “please let me make this up to you. just don’t get me fired.”
you scoffed, “make it up to me? what—with this?” you pressed down against his crotch, which sent a pocket of air bursting straight out of his chest.
choso only nodded, and you could see he didn’t look as worried anymore. there was an intense way he stared at you, it was the same why you observed his eyes when you first saw him in concessions. everything inside you was telling you to not fall for it! don’t fall for the way he looks at you, or the way you kind of like them perverted.
what a fool you were, truly.
“..fine then.” your eyes squinted up at him, as a warning. “if you disappoint me, i’ll have even more to tell your manager about.
“yes, ma’am.”
now, you’d typically never get busy in a place as risky as an employee room, but choso assured you he had his ways.
oh, he sure had his ways.
his face was positioned between your thighs, and you found that he was so pussy drunk, he hadn’t even begun eating you out. choso groaned into your sopping cunt, practically suffocating himself. he nuzzled right into it, like he was becoming one with everything he had fantasized about that day.
there was only you two in the room, you occupied a red couch pressed against the wall. he had thrown your pants somewhere to the side, though he had everything on except for his suit jacket and tie. oh, he unfortunately took the hat off!
choso buried his nose flush against you, inhaling the scent of your arousal, which he was surprised to find. he let out a pleased sigh, and all he could do was breathe you in—breathe in the scent of you.
you pulled on his hair a bit. “you’re losing me, pervert.” you complained , but it was far from the truth. you hadn’t been with a guy so happy to just stuff his face between your thighs in a long time.
“call me choso. just choso, please.” his voice was muffled, and you were almost certain he’d stick his whole face inside you. his nose glided through your slick folds, nudging right up against your swollen clit.
he flattened his tongue inside his mouth, before it darted out to lick a sticky drop right up from your waiting hole. as soon as he got a taste, he couldn’t stop himself. he frantically lapped at your cunt like a dog, hooking your thighs around his shoulders.
you let out a shaky sigh, unable to stay quiet despite how bad your ego wanted you to. “f-fuck..pervert’s got a tongue on him, mm?” you try to tease, but the sensation of his tongue slivering inside you made you shudder. “shit..”
you could tell very clearly he was inexperienced. but he made up for it with desperation.
choso can’t even think to pull away to respond, he only gave you a hum, then continued. his wet tongue slides in and out of your drooling hole, coaxing out more and more for him to taste. his nose nudged against your clit with every lapping motion, the mere tease of it had you grinding against his face.
when you looked down, choso’s eyes met yours. his stare was fervent again, though his eyes remained half lidded. his tongue momentarily abandoned its place, only to instead envelop your clit in this mouth. he sucked on the pearl hungrily, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nerves in a delicious, circular motion. all you could do was take it.
he hadn’t even made you finish yet and you forgot all about what had happened. the image of it all was blurred in some other place, a place that didn’t compare to the stars you saw behind your eyelids. “just like that..keep going..” you whispered, holding eye contact with him the entire time.
choso continued to suck at your clit while one hand left your thighs. he brought his pointer finger to your cunt, preparing to lather it in slick. you shook your head, nudging him with your foot. “don’t do that.”
this confused him, that much was obvious since he halted his relentless pursuit on your pussy. he lifted his head, the bottom half of his face already drenched. “you..don’t want my fingers inside you?”
“i do.” you clarified, grabbing his hair and yanking him off. he gasped, like a starved man who had just been robbed. with his best efforts he tried to dive back in, but you didn’t allow him. to your surprise, he kissed the arch of your foot. “wet your fingers yourself.”
choso’s puzzlement only lasted a few seconds, then all he could do was scramble to obey you. his pointer finger found his lips, he quickly took the digit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around his skin to wet it. once he was done, he searched your eyes for approval. pathetic.
when you gave him a nod, he prodded his finger against your entrance, teasing the nerves there. he heard your sigh of contentment, and started to slide it inside. your pussy greedily swallowed the digit, so much so he almost struggled to move it. he slowly worked his finger in, then back out, every squelch making his breathing heavier.
his tongue found your clit again, it was pure desperation. he bullied another finger inside you, as well as increased the pace. you were certain nothing in your life had felt better than this, who knew a magician could work their magic on a pussy too?
only this wasn’t magic, he was hungry. famished and desperate.
your stomach started to tighten up like a coil, and a hazy feeling flourished throughout your entire body. you were close, it was so obvious choso noticed it by the way you clung to his fingers. he didn’t say a word, just kept sucking, kept curling his fingers right up against that sweet spot inside you.
“m’gonna cum, choso..” you panted, like he didn’t know. with a few more humps against his face, your orgasm was washing over you. you arched your back until your chest pointed towards the air, head flying back so hard you almost bonked it on something. you gushed all over his pale face, as if he wasn’t drenched enough.
choso just kept going, only he replaced his fingers with his tongue. he lapped at you desperately, as if he was ingesting some sort of elixir. eventually, you tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled him away.
and oh, his face. his chin was dripping, as well as his nose. he was covered in a mixture of your juices and his own drool. he wiped his mouth with the white sleeve of his collared shirt, though you could see a trail of slick lined over it.
“i don’t forgive you yet.” you said, unsure if it was true or not. realistically, you were being greedy—but you deserved that much.
“i didn’t expect you to.” choso replied, helping you sit up on the couch. he sat quietly, still staring at you with those intense eyes of his.
you rolled your eyes, scooting closer to him. one hand roughy grabbed his jaw, and you pulled him into a messy kiss. your lips tangled together in a sloppy mess of heat and hunger. he slid his tongue inside your mouth, and groaned at the memory of how it felt when he stuck the muscle inside your pussy only moments before.
your free hand busied itself with unbuckling his belt. the teeth of the zipper holding his cock back followed the path you dragged them down with an echoing zip! you could already see how hard he was, but you took it upon yourself to feel it.
your palm pressed against the heavy weight straining his boxers, and you swore you could feel a twitch. choso groaned into your mouth, drooling all over his own chin pathetically. when you pulled away, he chased your lips.
“didn’t think you were so obsessed with me.” you teased.
“baby, please—“
“ohh..baby, huh?” you pressed against his cock firmly, and an uncontrollable moan darted out of his lungs. “you think you can call me baby after stealing from me? is that what you think, you stupid pervert?”
of course, his cock twitched against your hand again. he didn’t have a response, he could only smash his lips against yours once again. choso didn’t have a way with words it seemed. only actions and joyous magic tricks could make up for that.
the moment you had his cock free, you had to look down out of pure curiosity. he had a flushed pink tip, with paired beads of precum catching the poor, fluorescent lighting. veins trailed up the length like a roadmap, and all you could think about was how they’d feel inside you.
choso naturally noticed you eyeing his cock, and pulled your eyes back to his. “i’m letting you take charge.” he said, rubbing your thigh with his thumb.
“you better.” you grinned, climbing on top of him. as you straddled him, you hovered over his twitching cock, legs framing the beefy thighs he had hidden under those dress pants of his. you unbuttoned a few of the buttons on his shirt, just to see his chest.
choso let out a punched out noise, despite the fact you hadn’t done anything. he grabbed his cock by the base, but began lining it up himself. of course you smacked his hand away! he looked wounded once you did so. “ah, ah. you said i’m taking charge.”
he said nothing, and simply let you do your thing. you slowly lowered yourself down, your warm entrance engulfing the flushed, twitching mushroom tip prodding you. your pussy sucked him in with a humiliating squelch, and a rhythmic pulsing nearly battered the cum out of him before he got a moment to fully enjoy how amazing you felt.
“fuck, baby..” he panted, weakly bucking his hips up. his movements were restrained, it was clear he was trying his best to hold himself to your terms and standards. “y’feel so good..”
you raise yourself up, then slowly sunk back down. a mean slosh followed, though it was drowned out by your combined panting and huffing. “you’re still c-calling me baby? r-really?” you laugh at him, which in turn earned you a pathetic little thrust up. it made you moan anyway.
every bounce on his cock made you needier, your pussy drooled all over him, coating his pubic hair in droplets of slick. you used your own juices as lubrication, gasping whenever his thrusts met the downward stroke of your hips.
ultimately, you decided he wasn’t nearly ashamed enough. you snatched the previously stolen panties off the arm of the couch, holding them near his face. choso made a choked noise, and something like a whimper crawled out of his throat. you clenched around him at the sound, noting how full you felt.
“oh? does these still get you going?” you queried condescendingly. “even though you’re inside me? even though you already lapped at me like a dog? you’re fucking pathetic. not to mention disgusting.”
choso’s eyes had officially rolled to the back of his head. he bucked his hips up again, only grab them and start moving you in a pace he desired. so much for letting you have control. “m’so sorry..i jus’ can’t help it. you were so—“ he was cut off by his own moan, as a result of slamming you down so hard the friction of his tip hitting your cervix almost hurt.
“i was..haah..so what? so attractive you had to go on and be a p-pervert?” you laugh in his face, and hope to god he tears up. “say you’re a pervert, choso. admit how repulsive you are. u-unless you don’t want my forgiveness.”
choso shook his head, his eyes so needy and starved. he wasn’t just a whimpering man, there was a different kind of pathetic that followed him. it wasn’t in a crying and whining way, just an intense, silent yearning way.
“i-im a repulsive pervert. i s-should..b-be—be ashamed.” he huffed out, his fingers digging into the plush of your thighs so hard you were certain there’d be marks blooming there shortly. he rocked you back and forth. precum smeared all over your cervix, sloshing around lewdly.
you didn’t praise him, of course not. instead, you forced his mouth open wider, and stuffed your panties right in. his eyes rolled back.
“how many times are we gonna trade these, choso? i think i should just—ugh—let you h-have them..” you let him continue to bounce you up and down on his cock, but you had to hold onto him for stability. your palms traced the outline of his abs, and you wondered why a magician would be so built. that didn’t matter much, they were lovely to look at.
choso stared up at you the entire time, drool trickling down his chin from his mouth being full. if it weren’t for the lack of cum, you would’ve believed he already came. he picked you up suddenly, which made a moan of yours swirl into a yelp.
he pulled out, and gently placed you on your back. he was slamming back into you before you could complain “s-shit!” your body jolted upwards, tits bouncing and thighs quaking. he was fucking you much harder than before.
choso pulled the panties out of his mouth and lazily put them on your stomach, all soaked in his saliva. “s-sorry—cant..fuck—help it.” he didn’t bother wiping the drool off his chin, in fact, he leaned down to start kissing you again.
you parted your lips, his tongue meeting yours halfway. he moaned into your mouth, continuing to ram into you with deep, hungry thrusts. every time he pulled out even a bit, you missed how deliciously he filled you up. you loved how you could feel every vein, how whenever you clamped down, he’d twitch and stutter.
choso couldn’t pull away from your lips, he was simply addicted. every stroke was mean, it didn’t match how passionately he was making out with you at all. when he pulled away, he stayed close enough to your face that the string of saliva didn’t snap for a good few seconds. “you close?”
you nodded, panting and unable to suppress your moans. “yeah—mmh..yeah m’close..” you breathe, trying to fuck your hips against him to meet his thrusts. he let you, of course. his thumb quickly found your clit, which he started tracing slow circles on.
god, you were in heaven. you could feel how desperately he was trying to fuck the anger out of you, it worked before he was even inside you. you quickly realized it wasn’t only for the sake of his job, which gave you a complex you didn’t know you enjoyed.
with a few more drags along your g-spot, you were cumming again. “c-choso!” you keened, thighs trapping him right in place. you threw your head back, eyes rolling south into utter darkness, except for the small stars dancing through whatever thoughts in your mind he fucked out.
choso was a mess. you clamped down on him so hard he couldn’t move. his cock pulsed inside you, and he remembered he had to pull out. it was so hard with the way your cunt clung to him. “g-gotta..fuck—!” he quickly pulled out, though it didn’t work too well. a moan shot out of his throat, head hanging forward as if all the energy went to not getting you pregnant.
he didn’t need you angry again!
cum splattered all across your fucked out pussy, before he tried to aim it at your stomach. “thankyouthankyou—“ white spurts of his seed shot across your abdomen, right onto the drool soaked panties he left there.
for a moment, the two of you just panted. he looked up to see you staring at him, to which he mirrored.
you laughed breathlessly, feeling utterly limp. “i’m impressed you pulled out.”
for the first time that night, choso laughed with you. it was more of a huff, really, but he had a lovely smile. “i figured you’d be really angry at me if i got you pregnant.”
your elbows dipped into the cushion of the couch as you propped yourself up. “oh, poor thing. don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of chances to fill me up.”
choso’s eyes flew open the second those words left those addictive lips of yours. “wait—“
“i mean, considering you already started calling me baby, i assume you don’t want this to be a one time thing.” you pluck the cum and drool soaked panties off your stomach, then wrap them around his soft, over sensitive cock. his breath hitches.
the eagerness in his eyes was almost cartoonish. “thank you.” he said, because of course he said that after sex.
“yeah, yeah. you can keep your damn magician job.”
there was a loud knock on the door, which sent both of you jumping. maybe the state of his employment wasn’t up to you anymore.
a/n first event YAYYAYAYYY!!! i’m very excited to see what everyone else does!
tags!! <3 @sugurusbadhabit @xqce @planetchoso @satorusdollie @heavenlyrestrained @getopilleds @florcosmi @valberryboos @3lliesr1fle @jijikawa @getorade @shnauwi @icebearcucumber @tojiscreampie @im-a-simp139 @pussydrunklilac @maxxthefan @limitless-satoru @catgvrl @v4mp1r3b4tzz @yxo7 @blu-goingdark
broken promises ryomen sukuna x f!reader wc: 9,290 warnings: self harm, blood, angst, hurt no real comfort, alcohol use
sukuna said he would work on it. on himself. to be what you needed him to be.
he would listen, taking your pleas in and promising to be better.
and he would. for a little bit.
one week, two, maybe even three if you were lucky.
you quickly realized moving in together four years ago was nothing short of your own personal hell.
you couldn't relax if the dishes weren't done, blankets weren't folded. every surface littered with something, nothing ever finding its way back to it's designated spot.
shoes never put back quite right. laundry so close to being put away, sitting folded in the basket in the closet, dirty clothes thrown to the side.
an empty can somewhere, paperwork never put where it was supposed to go.
everything was always messy.
every single day, despite your efforts, it was always fucking messy.
it drove you to the brink of insanity more times than you could count.
he was always promising to help, promising to be better, never following through.
at first you would cave in and do all the things he said he would, video games playing too loud from the tv and refusing to use headphones despite buying him three seperate pairs.
resentment bubbled in your chest, knowing no matter what you would be the one left in your work clothes hours after sunset, forgetting dinner as you worked around him.
you'd had enough.
you started wearing your headphones instead, spending too much money just for a few seconds of silence, a few more of sounds you chose on your own.
it pissed him off. unreasonably so, pouting like a child every single time.
refusing to do his laundry, to clean up his side of the room, to do the dishes.
you were blatantly ignoring him.
you put all of your things away, a silent stand off as he fell asleep on the couch for the third night in a row.
you knew he was tired, blue collar work never for the weak, but you worked too.
you were gone the same amount of hours, if not more. dealt with clients and contracts and someone always needing something, phone calls and uncovered coughs echoing through the office, grating laughter and botched presentations.
you just wanted a goddamn moment of peace.
yet here you were, jaw so tight you nearly saw red as soon as you started the drive home every single day.
you wished he would keep one promise.
to take care of you. to do anything and everything you asked of him. to be better than your father, better than your ex, to be what you deserved.
to be the man of your dreams, treat you like a princess, soaking up every word any broken girl wants to hear.
to be the man he promised he would be all those years ago.
yet here he was.
coming home angry, claiming his coworkers were too emotional while he lashed out in retaliation at them.
he bitched about work but hated when you did it.
he bitched about hurting all the time yet never did anything to help.
it was always about him.
everything was always about him.
you kept everything in, despite your constant cries for help. despite bleeding all over the carpet and staining everything you touched, bandaids never closing the wounds no matter how many you wore.
stress induced illnesses leaving you a frequent hospital flier, a slew of medications and liquor as soon as you walked through the door.
staring at the clock more nights than you could count, face oily and fingertips still pruned girl from doing the dishes he said he'd do three days ago.
unable to keep your thoughts straight, doubling your dose of stimulants to make it to five - eyes dry from forgetting to blink.
everyone noticed. everyone but him.
darker bags under your eyes, hair never quite right and a constant shake in your hands. barely able to eat, nervous system choking you out with each breath.
you closed in on yourself when you felt his presence, no longer the woman you worked so hard to become all those years before him.
even if you were self destructive, you only had to bare the burden yourself. only had yourself to blame.
you didn't even notice it at first, slowly letting him get away with it, bottling up your own feelings in fear he would leave you.
too scared of abandonment, clinging on to every word he said, trying your best to be more than just enough.
your bones settled into familiar contusions, cramped in the coffin you grew up in, the only thing your body knew how to do.
it wasn't until someone else pointed it out, asking if everything was okay while you were three bottles of wine deep, your silence answering their question all too loudly.
you broke down that night. everything turned to shit after that.
yeah, you shouldn't have drank that much. and yeah, you should've kept it together.
but you were hysterical, pouring every ounce of your soul out to the walls of your shower while he sat on the floor in the doorway.
you were begging for help. choking on your tears and shaking uncontrollably while he refused to respond, only telling you to calm down and blaming it on the alcohol.
he controlled how much you drank for a year after that.
he never controlled his, always hungover the next day but refusing to do anything to fix it.
you never opened up after that, didn't bother begging for help when you knew it wouldn't come.
the worst was when he hung out with his friends.
disregarding any plans he explicitly agreed to, no matter who was involved.
he would always laugh it off, even if the girlfriends of said friends were pissed - everything ruined all the same.
it all came to a head before you even set your bag down, him lashing out at you as soon as you walked through the door about something at work.
the same story, the same guys doing the same shit, another wasted breath.
you let him yell, let him set things down far too heavy, teeth cracking as you tried not to flinch.
"are you even listening to me, woman?" he huffed, like you were the problem, like you were supposed to be his emotional punching bag, that you were supposed to agree with him.
"i'm letting you finish," you were dry, eyes void of any feeling, not focused on anything while you picked at your cuticles so badly they bled.
"tch," he looked up at the ceiling while he gripped the counter, knuckles white as he tried to remember where he left off, neighbors surely able to hear his voice through the paper thin walls.
your jaw ached, years of exhaustion and pent up curses snapping any resolve you had left.
"what do you want me to say, ryomen? that you're some fucking saint? that you nearly losing your job due to your fucking ego every goddamn day is honorable? that you're always right?"
"excuse me?" he looked nothing short of appalled, lips parted in shock at the change in tone.
"if you think you're any better than the fucks you're bitching about, try looking in a fucking mirror," scoffing, the back of the couch sure to leave a bruise on your hip as you leaned into it.
"are you fucking kidding me? don't you dare say i'm the same as those fuckers," he sounded so mean, so betrayed, teeth gritting as his spine went rigid.
"incapable of emotional responsibility? don't do shit except for fucking complain? expect everything to be done for them? think the world fucking revolves around them? ryomen you are no different," you crossed your arms tight, playing off the fact that your heart was trying to beat straight out of your chest, unable to catch your words before they came out.
"seriously? that what you really think of me?" a tinge of hurt barely noticeable slipped out, nearly breaking you down like it always did.
always too afraid to hurt him, apologizing with an explanation that stretched for miles and miles until he accepted.
"yes,".
you didn't think you'd actually say it, unable to look at him as your breathing faltered, mouth dry and tongue pushing on the back of your teeth as you tried not to wince, tried not to backtrack.
the silence sat far too heavy, your eyes glossy with anger-ridden tears, his hands threatening to break the countertop clean off.
choking on your raging heartbeat, hands trembling and proving they wouldn't stop no matter what you did, breathing erratic and shallow.
"you're fucking ridiculous, i can't believe this shit. you've been a fucking bitch for the past few weeks and now i'm the emotional one?" voice an octave higher, louder than you'd ever heard him be, meaner than he'd ever been with you.
one deep breath, willing yourself to not tread lightly, letting the fragile ice you tiptoed on break under solid footing.
"wanna know why i've been a fucking bitch, ryomen? or are you going to tune me out again?" pushing yourself off the couch, too far gone to turn docile, accepting whatever came.
"oh do not start that shit," rolling his eyes as if this was such a waste of his time, never taking an ounce of responsibility and refusing to face consequences.
"answer the fucking question," you were pissed, sick of him avoiding you, sick of him ignoring everything that didn't directly benefit him, sick of him always playing the goddamn victim.
"fine, go ahead babe, i'm all ears,".
"it's probably because you don't do shit around here, or maybe the fact that you can't keep a goddamn promise if your life depended on it," you walked closer to him, only the kitchen island separating you, just out of reach.
"or maybe that i work more than you, do everything around this goddamn house, have to put on a fucking housewife smile all the time. i haven't had a chance to do one thing i enjoy in fucking months, ryomen. months," switching between pointing at him and pressing your index finger to your chest, wide-eyed and too far gone to pull in the reigns.
"oh bullsh-" he couldn't even look at you, tongue in cheek.
"i'm not done," your grip on the counter matched his, the only thing keeping you from blacking out.
"you have been late to every single plan we've made in the last two years. hell, you fucking fall through on most of them, all while refusing to read the room and take responsibility for your actions. do you know how hard it's getting to apologize for you every goddamn weekend?"
"oh jesus christ i can't-" throwing his hands up in defense, turning his back to you and pinching his brow.
"ryomen, have you even cared to notice that i barely function anymore? do you listen to your friends when they genuinely ask if i'm okay? i have to force myself to not drive off the overpass every fucking morning because i'm so fucking exhausted and you don't fucking care,".
"great here we go again. your meds aren't doing shi-"
"you chose me, did everything under the sun to get me to fall in love with you, swore to be better than any other man in my life even though i pushed you away for months. now you can't even bother to put the dishes away after asking four hundred fucking times," you refused to acknowledge the crack in your voice, always crying when you were angry, so consumed by it that you couldn't stop them.
"i'm working on it, you know that," he tried to soften his tone, tried to play the pity card, to bring you down and tug your heartstrings a little closer.
"you've been working on it for years. work fucking harder,".
pushing yourself free from the counter, you wiped your tears with the back of your hand, picking lint off your slacks as he refused to respond, feet carrying you away.
"done tearing into me?" he tried to follow you, chewing on the inside of his cheek, still refusing to take the blow to his ego.
"no, but i'm not going to waste my breath on someone who couldn't bother to listen,".
you grabbed your purse and keys, refusing to let your breathing match the tears streaming down your face, humiliated that you cried every single time without fail, smudging your already ruined makeup all over.
"where the fuck do you think you're going?" he grabbed your arm, trying to get you to slow down, to try and think about what you were actually doing.
"none of your fucking business, sukuna,". tugging your arm free, you didn't even turn to look at him, purse settling on your shoulder as you walked away.
swinging open the front door, heels still burning blisters all over, you slammed it behind you, eyes blurry and fumbling to get your car key separated from the rest on the ring.
it felt like your chest had caved in, ribs shattering and shredding your lungs so far beyond repair, unable to breathe no matter how hard you tried.
bone marrow dissolved, barely able to push the gas pedal, going anywhere but there.
choking on the iron pooling in the back of your throat, so desperate for oxygen and staining your ragged skin all you could do was cough and heave in a piss-poor attempt to keep yourself from passing out.
you just kept driving, broken sobs the only sound bouncing off your speakers, pure unfiltered panic the only thing keeping your heart beating.
the ding of your fuel light the icing on the cake, pulling off the freeway to the nearest gas station, a dollar higher than the station near the apartment, a kick to the head while you were already down.
wiping away as much of your smudged makeup as you could, ignoring your tear stained button down and slacks, you talked yourself down in the rear view mirror, enough to not start crying around the strangers filling up their cars around you.
the cool night air felt like mercy on your skin, rubbed raw and burning with sorrow, scalding with every breath, a slight reprieve from your unnoticed sweating making your hands all clammy.
locking the doors twice over, you walked inside the liquor store attached, body aching for anything to wash down the aftermath of hyperventilation.
a black plastic bag tore into one hand, half the items you couldn't even remember grabbing, a case of those overpriced wine coolers you knew would fuck you up, still cheaper than a bottle of jack, in the other.
and a pack of cigarettes for good measure tucked under your bra strap, lighter in your pocket.
—
on the balcony of some chain hotel two blocks down from the gas station, you nursed your seventh drink with your third cigarette staining your fingers, the only thing keeping you from breaking down again.
it fucking hurt.
you loved him, god you fucking loved him, heart collapsing at the reality of what'd you'd done.
you knew he was exhausted. you knew he paid more bills than you, job paying double what you made at minimum.
you knew you couldn't do it on your own, the cost of living too high and student loans looming over you, medical bills fucking your credit as they were left unpaid each month.
you knew you should've done more, never providing enough for him, guilt eating you alive.
over and over again you told yourself you were ungrateful, expecting too much, selfish.
selfish for wanting more, never providing enough to deserve to ask for attention.
selfish for thinking about getting it in the first place, not ever feeling pretty enough, hating your reflection, still getting hurt when you didn't get an ounce of it.
it didn't matter that each day was a fight against gravity, a fight against every blink to keep yourself going.
at the end of the day, the universe wasn't going to stop just for you, the solar system unwilling to halt it's orbit, left with no other choice but to wake before the sun and pretend like you were okay. that everything was fine.
through a haze of disassociation, every movement in third-person, watching your body from the outside, each second delayed as your soul cracked open a little bit more every time you blinked.
more medications, more caffeine, painting over every hint at exhaustion on your face every morning for an hour over the sink.
the world was not going to stop and wait for you to catch your breath, gravity a stubborn reminder of that.
nothing would. nobody would.
bills were still due, laundry still had to be done. dinner still needed to be cooked.
you still needed a paycheck, needed to pass your quarterly reviews with optimism forced upon you, unable to digest it and hiding it under your tongue, pretending to believe it with a corporate smile and overpriced heels.
you weren't allowed to collapse, you didn't even know how to without ruining everything in your attempt to run away from the inevitable, leaving claw marks on everything you tried to save as it was torn away from your unstable hands.
too volatile, too unreliable, bound to ruin everything you touched.
you weren't meant to carry any of this. you didn't know how to set any of it down, body decomposing with every added weight.
you'd carried it since childhood, a weathered woman's burden before you could tie your shoes, facing every ill-spoken word head on to save anyone else from your parents wrath.
you'd walked on thin ice your whole life, achilles nearly snapping the first time you stepped onto solid ground, heels hitting dirt in silent reprieve.
it didn't last, but god did your joints beg for it again.
you always told yourself you wouldn't be like your parents, that you'd be different. better.
yet you found yourself biting your tongue like your mother, passive aggressive and too scared to speak up a for years at a time.
but a single breath would leave you snapping like your father, anger crawling up your throat and burning your blood in each and every vein, unable to control himself.
a horrid mix of both, refusing to acknowledge it until it was far too late.
it would always end the same, kneeling in prayer while you begged for forgiveness, keeping the peace even if it meant sacrifice, bloodied and stiff on the dinner table, torn apart by everyone seated around it.
you didn't know how to just be.
you didn't even know how to be alone. you couldn't be alone.
you didn't know who you were at the end of it all, a mask to mirror everyone else, glued to your skin and burning at the edges, blisters scarring skin with each forced smile.
crushing the can until the metal broke skin, you opened another, lighting up your fourth cigarette between your cracked lips, too fucked to grab your chapstick from your purse laying on the floor inside.
you watched cars go by, heard muffled conversations from people walking the streets below, laughter planting new seeds of jealousy into the remnants of your chest cavity.
the worst part was that you missed him, the thread holding you together by some invisible god making it that much harder.
you were just so fucking over it.
so tired of begging him to meet you in the middle, to listen to your side of the stage, stealing the spotlight every single time.
a performance of a lifetime at least once a month, throwing in the towel and crushing your hopes that maybe this time he would come around. that this time he would listen, that he really would make an effort.
you were so tired of being dismissed, so tired of your exhaustion getting brushed aside like sand in the doorway, a nuisance to anyone around you, always lingering on every surface you neared.
everyone ignored it, playing it off like the sand wasn't still there, nearly invisible but never fully gone, mildly irritating every time someone felt it under their nails but refusing to say anything.
rashes blossomed all over your skin with each missed alarm, coated in a tired haze that refused to let your vision focus when you were strong enough to open your eyes.
you just wanted help, that's all you wanted, recognition in form of a safe embrace and a home that didn't spike your anxiety to the moon.
was that really too much to ask for?
too caught up in his own opinions to do anything with you half the time, never celebrating valentine's or your anniversary, gifts always a half mile off from your list after begging him to care about christmas for once, every gift already purchased on your dime, refusing to let someone go without a gift because of his avoidance.
because he didn't care.
everything he promised you never availed, no proof ever provided to you in the courtroom, offering nothing but empty arguments without an attorney to hold him accountable, failing to provide evidence and never allowing cross examination.
on the rusted patio table your phone stopped buzzing, back to back calls and texts with his designated tone minutes apart lighting up the screen for an hour, until efforts were trashed entirely.
did he really even care? was tracking your location he made you put on your phone in the first place too much effort?
you didn't think he'd stop so quickly, bracing for the knock on the hotel room at any moment, for this to blow over like it always did.
even though you'd never spoken so deadly, never put up a fight, never walked away.
this was different.
leaving your anger on the kitchen counter, souring every inch of paint on the walls as you slammed that door behind you.
you wanted him to beg on his knees, to prove he would do whatever it took to keep you written in his life, to be the inseparable pair you once were.
you wanted your misery to be heard, for him to understand a fraction of it. for him to fucking help.
you wanted him to want you.
another desperate cry, covering it up with resentment and alcohol, shoving it down your throat until you couldn't take it anymore, choking on your own inability to cope as you forced your fingers down your throat to heave it out, drowned out by the sound of the shower running and the fan whirring above three nights a week at best.
no one was there to hold your hair back, no one to offer water to rinse the bile out of your mouth.
yet you stayed, believing every lie until you were completely intertwined, the thought of uprooting yourself all over again, losing every person you knew over your own self centered wants too difficult to process, refusing to prove your family right.
and you still loved him, holding on to the security, however superficial, forcing yourself to believe that he loved you too.
you couldn't help but blame yourself, for not being what he wanted, for ruining everything.
did he want things to be ruined?
did he see you as some broken thing he thought he could save, something he could mold into whatever he wanted?
fitting a typecast idea based on looks alone, something he could tame to eat out of the palm of his hand, not realizing that disease ridden strays still bite?
you never heard the rumble of his engine, just your phone buzzing with texts and calls from his friends, putting more effort in than he did to figure out where the hell you went.
staring at the skyline, drunken stare blurring all the lines together, voices humming in your ears to relapse.
to bleed out in the bathtub, to not feel anything.
stumbling to your purse, you dumped out the contents, broken makeup compacts and receipts cluttering the floor, pocket knife found in the bottom corner.
one he gave you.
too dehydrated and drunk, exhaustion making you see things, you turned the shower on, pocket knife in hand.
hallucinations sweet talking you towards it, holding your hand toward the point of no return.
swaying, half drank can on the floor outside the tub, music playing far too loud for the hour, too far gone to care.
a part of you still hesitated, like he would come through that door and apologize for real, to get you the help you sobbed for so many times, to just be there.
he would be so mad, the only thing keeping you from doing it all those years was the fear he would leave you, the fear that he would treat you worse.
if he knocked on the door, you couldn't hear it.
if anybody called, they were sent straight to voicemail.
what else was there to do, other than sabotage years of progress, to assume anything besides the fact that you ruined everything?
you'd already ruined everything, what was the point in stopping now?
your thighs burned, laughing in relief as you dug the blade in, water spreading your skin open further, handle slippery in your shaking hands.
your breathing calmed, too caught up in the stinging to register the weight of your actions.
for the first time in years your shoulders dropped, giggling at the sting.
you forgot about it all, head pressed back into the tile as water sprayed outside the tub, too far gone to care as you finished your drink and tried to toss the can across the bathroom to the trashcan, missing by a mile and not giving a single fuck.
looking down at the water still running red, your stomach turned inside out when you looked down at your left hand, blood settling between the stones of your engagement ring.
three small diamonds, once shiny and cared for, the band still one size too big two years later, now tarnished with heartbreak drying in the intricate metal settings that caught on your sweaters.
the guilt was blinding, vision closing in on you before you could register it.
leaning over the tub, half a case of alcohol spilling out of you as you barely made it over the toilet, regret burning your throat and searing your vocal cords.
fumbling with your phone, hands wet and weak, you texted the first contact you saw, not bothering to see who it was.
| you started sharing location
| help i fucked hp
| fuck hed gonnabw so mad atme
| domr tel him plwase
your phone screen shattered as you tossed it on the floor, so fucking angry all over again.
you didn't deserve to have him, to have anyone.
staring at the bloodstained ring, barely able to cry anymore, eyes burning with fear.
you felt pathetic, too weak to handle the slightest bit of pressure, resorting to old habits the moment you were left unsupervised.
you were being dramatic. he never laid a hand on you, never broke things, didn't control every dollar you made.
he wasn't bad.
he didn't accuse you of cheating, never guilted you into sex.
he didn't gamble rent away, didn't end up in a drunken stupor every night.
he didn't do drugs, didn't come home smelling like a strip club.
he wasn't bad.
you were ungrateful. a roof over your head, a car that ran, a college degree, a stable job.
the lights stayed on, no patches of drywall repaired three times over, water always warm.
he wasn't bad.
you just wanted prince charming. someone who saw you as someone more, who understood how hard you were trying to get better.
you wanted someone who understood how much effort you put in. you wanted a hint of appreciation for the little things - attending every therapy session, every doctors appointment, always showering each night, remembering to brush your teeth twice a day, barely able to get there.
but you were trying.
you wanted someone who could tell you were off just by looking at you, turning down the radio when you got that look in your eye.
just because you wanted it didn't mean shit.
you knew you didn't deserve any of it. you knew no one would keep you if they learned each flaw about you.
the years of scar tissue, fight or flight your constant state since before you could remember, silent breakdowns mixed with an overflowing medicine cabinet.
who were you to ask for perfection, being the furthest thing from it?
you were a liability at best. something to take care of on top of everything else, deadweight.
was he showing you mercy? taking in a wounded animal, knowing it wouldn't survive otherwise?
did he ever really love you, or did he just feel bad for you, the guilt of leaving you too hard to bear, too scared to see what would happen if he left you to your own devices?
you never locked the hotel room door, toji nearly breaking it down before yuki turned the handle. haphazard evidence leaving a trail to the bathroom, water burning your flesh as you teetered between here and then, too drunk and losing just enough blood to make you a little woozy, overheated and dehydrated, entire being a shattered pile of bones and nerves, too weak to want to put yourself back together.
you didn't feel real, half a decade spent trying so desperately to convince yourself things were good.
there were good days, shared slushies on the river when the fish were biting, extra sunblock in his bag and camping chair in the truck bed for you.
road trips to see family, laughing like nothing else mattered at your inside jokes while you ate too much candy.
matching sweatshirts and throwing snowballs at each other, never worrying about paying for dinner.
he protected you in public, always making sure you were on the inside of the sidewalk and threatening anyone who looked at you a second too long.
he checked your tire pressure, always made sure someone was around when work made him travel so you wouldn't be alone.
you had so many memories, framed in rose-tinted glass, rustled hair and butterflies swarming.
none of it was bad.
you didn't hear either of them enter, ears muffled by the water and every foul word your brain could conjure, making yourself hysterical as you couldn't stop spinning.
too caught up spiraling, remembering every moment stitched with dread and marred fingertips, fumbling with the thread and stabbing yourself with the needle, blood soaking through everything you touched when all you wanted to fix things.
synapses slowly tearing out your organs as you drowned with the realization that everyone else walked on that ice you resented, wincing through ruined ankles to avoid this from happening. to avoid setting you off, seeing you as something unstable.
you were proving them right.
you were no better than every person you hated, seeing yourself in their exhales and blaming them for your reflection.
all you wanted was someone who cared, someone who understood.
someone who gave you the time to heal, who knew when you needed to sit down every once in a while.
you wanted sukuna to be that person so badly, clawing at the heart you knew he had, scarring him all over as your fingernails broke in jagged pieces.
yuki fell to her knees, meeting you as eye level and wrapping arms around you, one hand cradling the back of your head, tucking you into the crook of her neck as she thanked every spiritual entity that things weren't worse.
your bloodied fingers stained her shirt, hands in fists as you held on to the fabric like it was somehow going to save you.
sobbing all over again, decrepit form melting into her, the first time you had been genuinely hugged in months.
you didn't feel it when she looked over at toji, stunned in place and livid, hands unsure what to do, looking at her for answers.
he didn't know anything had happened, sukuna hadn't said a word this time.
usually sukuna would call him, asking him to diffuse, asking him to pick you up, anything.
he rushed out, slamming the door behind him as he ran down the stairs, skipping two at a time.
scaring the teenager at the front desk into a nearly frozen state, he found the first aid kit under the counter, a curt half-wave as he ran back up.
all you could muster was a broken i'm so sorry over and over again until your voice nearly gave out.
yuki let you, petting your half wet hair over and over, nails rubbing gentle circles on your back as you clung to her.
your blouse was stained and soaked, underwear the same, only bothering to take your slacks off before the voices consumed you entirely.
the shower was shut off without you realizing, shivering under the hotel air conditioning and residual shock wearing off.
no longer as tense, body unsure what to do with itself, seizing up with waves of regret and embarrassment, relaxing as yuki brought you back down, ignoring the bruises forming on her knees from the tile.
toji didn't know what to do, setting the kit on the floor and setting aside everything they could use in the lid, towels still folded from the morning now in his hands.
he had to keep his hands busy. he had to.
he felt so useless, still not even knowing what the hell happened.
drying off, patching up, wrapped in a towel under the blankets while your clothes hung all over the place to dry, barely able to acknowledge any of it happening.
toji was pacing, smoking a few of the cigarettes left, rinse and repeat with a stiff spine and fists at his side.
yuki sat on the edge next to you, calming you down every time you started to panic.
anything she said was muffled by embarrassment, eardrums surrounded by your heartbeat and shame that rattled your skull.
you didn't notice when one of them had ordered things for delivery, scared straight when toji opened the door, clothes and food and comfort items, a blur as you tried to pick the bones out of your lungs, tried to put your sternum back together.
they made you talk about what happened, not letting you bottle it up all over again, to figure out what the fuck happened.
your mouth moved as you spoke in bullet points, a summary of a novel, characters filling the roles as you detached yourself more and more with each word.
so far removed already, pretending the story wasn't even yours.
every faint breath soured your throat, fighting the acid trying to come up, trying to make you admit that you were in the wrong.
that you were the problem.
that he deserved better.
it slipped past your lips, burning the corners as it dripped out with searing stubbornness, burning through the blankets and bubbling on your skin.
through it all you blamed yourself. that all of this was your fault, that it always was.
yuki looked at toji as you tried to apologize, her heart shattering and unsure what to do, catching him as he wore that same look he did when he killed people for cash, angry.
but not angry at you.
he stood, fighting his tendons to close the door as softly as his tattered fingers would allow, yuki pulling you to her chest and rocking you slowly.
you felt guilty, apologizing again for ruining whatever each of them were doing before your texts went to him. she had just dropped by to pay him for the football bet she lost, looking at his phone screen that he shoved in her face with a panicked stare.
she knew what that meant.
she knew what was going on, tearing into sukuna every chance she got, staying by your side at every gathering.
toji just felt it, the exhaustion no amount of sleep could fix as they looked at you without makeup on for the first time in over a year.
they broke every traffic law, finding your room easy as most of them were empty, cries audible, do not disturb sign on the carpet.
toji noticed the little changes when he saw you, seeing through that fake smile as you made yourself impossibly smaller.
he'd ripped sukuna apart on more than one occasion, nearly knocking his teeth out when he tried to make a joke about it all before brushing it off again.
trembling under yuki's watery stare, you had to fight every urge to ask for him, craving that comfort in his arms you felt so long ago, lost in the floorboards and crushed under his steel-toed boots.
he didn't even smell the same anymore, barely recognizable.
you so desperately wanted him to care. wanted him to hold you, to make good on all those promises he made over and over again.
you craved the idea you made of him, a hard-ass to everyone yet softening for you.
you loved him.
sitting in a hotel room you didn't remember checking in at, blood staining so much, friends consoling you again.
yet you still couldn't blame him, taking the weight of responsibility on your shoulders, knowing you overreacted.
the light barely reflected from that ring on your hand, nearly slipping past your knuckle, a dark red stain where the band usually twisted around your finger.
torn between wanting him to push through the door, past toji in the hall, past yuki cradling you as best she could, to put all your bones back together and glue them together with pieces of his heart, and wanting him to stay away.
you hoped he was miserable, wallowing all by himself as he realized how serious this was, the finality of your tone still taunting him.
but your phone hadn't played his ringtone in hours, half of the bed sat cold.
it could be worse, so so much worse.
he didn't physically hurt you, didn't threaten you.
you couldn't help but convince yourself that it was your fault.
you hated every second of your weakness, of your greed.
every passed second felt like a nail in the coffin, another mile further away, silent confirmation of your self proclaimed fate.
you went too far, that last straw snapping on his back, swearing you could hear him leaving you.
undeserving, unable to keep yourself together long enough to prove you were worth loving.
did he ever really love you? was it really just sugar coated pity?
your heart couldn't take it, head pounding so harshly that your pulse felt visible on your temples.
through it all, you still loved him.
you still had a sliver of hope, accepting that you could change for him.
after all, if he told you to jump, you'd freefall without hesitation.
if he told you to pull the trigger, you'd paint the room red.
he would be the death of you, holding your head down in the ocean, no matter how hard your body betrayed you in a fight for oxygen at his hand.
you could hear toji's muffled yells, flinching each time, yuki unsure what the hell to do other than hold you.
you didn't recognize yourself.
nothing but a shell, cracked under his teeth, just to be spit out as he chewed on your soul, spitting it out all the same at the taste.
you still loved him.
every mangled bone, every torn muscle, every twisted vertebrae loved him, no matter how hard your heart pleaded to let him go.
—
you didn't remember falling asleep, waking up in the fetal position with a headache no hangover would every come close to, joints aching and throat tearing.
you saw toji and yuki talking on the balcony with the door closed, poor attempts at whispers as they talked about what the hell they were supposed to do from here, toji scared for the first time since his late wife laid still in that hospital bed all those years ago.
they both looked exhausted, worry lines settling between their brows and tense.
barely able to process what the fuck was happening, blinking slow as toji buckled you into his front seat as you tried to remember how you got there at all, swimming in his sweatshirt and unable to force a smile.
yuki followed in your car, silence hanging heavy as toji's knuckles stayed white on the wheel, chest collapsing at how broken you looked.
no matter how many times he told sukuna, no matter how many times he tried to be there for you, you still held the same weight he did when he was younger, before he ran away from home.
seeing it on someone else made his throat collapse, made dread sink into each breath like poison, breaking him in ways he didn't think possible.
yuki was holding back her own tears, swallowing down anger that had been festering for years, knowing you before you fell into sukuna's arms, so fucking desperate to see that side of you again.
to see the light in your eyes, your crude mouth, your laugh that was always too loud.
she ached to you see you actually smile again, for the shake in your hands to stop, to see your shoulders rest.
pulling into the driveway of toji's house, you unbuckled yourself and winced as you tried to stand, so tired and weak and sore, barely catching yourself before collapsing.
toji carried you to the spare bedroom, yuki right behind, not giving you the space to try and protest or pretend you were fine.
tucked under the covers, yuki flipped on the nightlight toji's son insisted on putting there for you after you babysat him a few times and admitted you were scared of the dark, a hint of a smile trying to claw its way out.
—
you slept for so long, sun already asleep as yuki helped you shower, dressing your wounds all over again, one of toji's tshirts and an extra pair of yuki's pajama pants hanging on your frame.
on the living room couch, megumi crept closer and closer to you slowly, never saying a word.
he was a quiet kid, observant, in tune with everyone's blinks and breaths, hugging you tight when you opened your arms for him.
you watched the show he insisted on watching, letting him ramble in short bursts about what he found most important, looking up at you to make sure you were still watching every few minutes.
the doorbell rang and you froze, accidentally squeezing megumi a little too tight, breathing halting and heartbeat audible.
megumi wiggled out of your arms, toji cooking dinner and yuki since running to the store, eyes burning holes in the hardwood door.
"go to my room," megumi whispered to you, still frozen in place, nodding as he tried to help you up with his small-handed grasp.
the doorbell rang again and your vision tunneled, feet carrying you towards the child's room with a "keep out" sign crooked on the door.
closing it behind you as gently as possible, you slid down the wall and tried so hard to keep the tears from falling.
you didn't even know if it was him, part of you wishing it was, the other hoping it was just another solicitor who didn't read the porch sign.
you heard muffled talking, grit heavy and undoubtedly toji, pissed from being interrupted and for someone bothering him after the sun went down.
megumi cracked the door and slipped in, locking the handle, grabbing a stuffed animal from his bed and handing it to you.
you held on to it, hugging your knees as your body and brain fought with each other beyond your control, holding back a sob when you heard his voice.
you wanted him to hold you, to cradle you with rough hands that only fell soft for you, to shush away your attempted apologies and make good on his promises.
but your brain knew better, knowing that things would fall back into that same routine, that nothing would ever really change.
it got loud, megumi moving to cover your ears with his small hands, the motion pulling silent tears from your eyes at his attempt to comfort on instinct.
he left when yuki pulled in, storming up the driveway and grabbing him by the collar, yanking him back, freeing the doorway and telling him to fuck off.
he didn't try to get you, didn't fight for you like you hoped he would.
maybe he knew you needed time, maybe waiting for yuki to leave again, you could only guess as you heard his car drive away, far too fast for a residential area.
you swallowed what you could once little megumi dropped his hands, tugging your wrist to stand, to follow him back out to the tv for a distraction.
the air felt heavy, tainted. no longer just sandalwood and smoke, tension sitting in the blend so thick you were sure no oxygen was left.
you winced as megumi squirmed against you, nearly hissing at the accidental elbow to your gauze covered thigh, guilt settling all over again and choking back a pathetic whine.
no one forced you to smile, no one forced you to respond, all they asked of you was to try and eat, try and drink, try and stay awake for a few hours before you went back to bed.
all you could do was stare at the ceiling with blurred vision, ring since cleaned and sitting on the nightstand, a cruel reminder to all of the promises he never kept.
your heart ached, tearing itself apart as it fought with your ingrained need for his comfort and your subconscious rationality begging you to think about why you needed comfort in the first place.
clasping one hand over your mouth to stifle the sobs, you shattered into the mattress, tearing the fabric and breaking the springs, reality hitting you like gunfire at point blank range, ringing in your ears courtesy of the too-close handgun, bleeding out yet heart still pumping sorrow like it was made for it.
curling in on yourself a sob slipped through, too loud against the bare walls, throat burning as you tried to hold your breath, praying it wasn't heard through the drywall.
two soft knocks on the door as it opened gently, a sleepless toji wearing worry like it belonged there, eyes nearly blurring at the sight of you still trying so hard to keep yourself together.
you tried to pretend like you didn't notice him, that you were asleep, anything to get his worry to stop burning into you, to stop the guilt that tore at your hands.
"hey," he whispered, stepping through the threshold as gently as his body would let them be, sitting on the edge of the mattress.
"hm?" you tried to hide your tear stained face, stuffy nose unavoidable no matter how hard you tried.
"c'mon," he motioned to pick you up, your veins too weak to protest, letting him carry you towards his room, bed larger and lavender mixing in the air.
he sat you down gently, pulling the blankets over you, walking around to his side before turning the tv on with the remote, settling in with his back against the headboard to mirror you.
"you don't have to talk, but i'm not letting you fall apart alone," he didn't look at you while he spoke, too afraid that his voice would waiver, that he would see more of himself in the reflection of your glassy eyes, that he would see the wounds that never fully heal still bleeding.
all you did was nod, sobs slowly shuddering out of you again, collapsing into him before he could register it, a stiff embrace at first as you held on to his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you on earth.
he let your tears ruin his t shirt, back aching at the uncomfortable position, rubbing gentle circles on your back as you fell apart entirely.
mumbled words barely making their way out through your tears, incoherent sentences just to get the words out.
you felt the glue you used to try to piece yourself back together with disintegrate with each heavy tear, pieces slowly falling as your spine collapsed in, nothing to keep you from becoming a mess of fragments on the floor anymore.
he stayed like that for hours until you cried yourself to sleep, those gasps for breath and trembling hands reminding him of every minute in his family home, every moment of his life before he ran.
at one point megumi had opened the door with sleepy eyes, rubbing away sleep to let his concern show fully at the sight of you so fragile, your knuckles white from how hard you were gripping toji's t shirt.
megumi climbed into bed next to you, trying his best to wrap his arms around your middle, the only thing he knew how to do.
megumi fell back asleep still holding you in less than a few minutes, smalls snores leaving his lips as your body began to relax with each sleepy breath, only dropping everything when you couldn't control it.
he could barely remember what sukuna said on his porch, something about bringing you back 'home' or that you skipped town with a guy you barely knew and he needed help- a sorry excuse for a story.
toji didn't let you go back to that, to him, to that world - he couldn't live with himself if he did that.
he couldn't pretend like this was some one off stress induced breakdown, that you haven't been showing signs for years, that it was a small fight and you just needed a few hours apart.
he knew you'd cave in under those apologies in such a battered state from firsthand experience, that he would be setting you up for failure.
the weight of your slowly steadying breathing and megumi's twitches eased the panic for a few moments. knowing you were safe under his arm, that megumi was safe all the same, let him exhale once, a moment without tears, a moment without violence, a moment without resentment.
you were out cold, no dreams, no eye movement behind your eyelids, face puffy and fingers still gripping his shirt, keeping you anchored for just a second longer.
—
sukuna laid still on the bed, surrounded by bits and pieces of you no matter where he went.
stuffed animals that gave him nasty glares, hair pins on every flat surface, stickers on the visor in his car.
your energy drinks in the fridge, colorful posters framed on the walls.
throw blankets littering every soft surface, your perfume lingering in the air with every breath.
he didn't know what to do, he never thought too deep into why things had changed. all he knew was that you were giving him the silent treatment for the better part of two full weeks before snapping.
he didn't notice anything out of sorts, too caught up in how he felt to memorize the pattern of your breathing like he once did, to watch the way your fingers twitched when something upset you, that you hadn't made the office a mess with your own past times like you used to.
he didn't think anything was wrong when you worked more overtime than usual, when you started digging out old clothes that began to fit again, when you stopped buying your usual grocery items or eating dinner beside him.
no part of him took the time to accept that he was taking everything out on you, a target set up and aimed at over and over and over again.
he didn't think you were serious when you broke down, that it was anything more than an alcohol induced slip up, that you were actually feeling that way.
it hit him hard when toji didn't let him inside his house for the first time in 10 years, tearing into him worse than a father who's son committed the worst crimes imaginable, eyes cold like they were when they were teenagers.
your bedside journal stared at him from the nightstand, pen tucked in the pages to never lose your spot, breaking his own rule to never go through things without your permission first and holding the cracked leather in his hands.
sukuna sat up, back against the headboard, knees pulled up to rest your writings on, ribcage pulled apart rib by rib with each run-on sentence.
you were screaming for years. begging for the bare minimum. too focused on his own needs to think about yours, not bothering to look between the lines.
halfway through the fourth page the lines blurred, tears stinging the corners of his eyes for the first time since his mother passed away.
you were pleading for the smallest fraction of attention while he should've been giving you everything like it was his sole purpose in life.
you were dying right in front of him, and all he cared about was his own needs, the ones you already tended to for him. ones that he never bothered to ask you about, letting your most basic desires snuff out before you could think about them too long.
sukuna sat there crying until the sun rose, ice long since melted inside your water bottle, makeup still sitting on the bathroom counter.
he loved you, god he loved you, replaying the first time he saw you on campus, how you pushed him away for months, too worried about your health, your brain, your everything to accept his pleas, to go on one date with him.
that date was the best decision of his entire life.
somewhere along the line he ruined you, falling into his old habits, never changing for him.
he had to change, had to beg on his hands and knees until he bled to bone, had to let you walk all over him an dig your heels in, had to be at your every beck and call before you finished your sentence.
he had to hear your laugh again, needed the sound tattooed on his heart, failing to remember the last time he heard it.
he didn't know what would come of him if you didn't offer one more chance, but he couldn't blame you if you didn't.
you were his everything, and he ruined you, becoming the man he promised he would never be, breaking that final thread of trust you held on to so tightly.
he sat in the shower for what felt like years, cold water stinging every part of him, trying so desperately to stop the crying, to start fixing things.
the engagement ring on his finger, the one you got so excited over, showed tiny cracks all over, like the universe thought it was funny.
standing up, he scrubbed his skin raw, unable to stop the saltwater burning with every blink, your voice echoing in his skull over and over and over again, a broken record lodged in place just to spite him.
he couldn't do this without you, couldn't keep breathing without you, unsure how he ever existed before you.
he had one promise he hadn't broken still hanging in the balance, one he carved into his heart a hundred times over, one he would never break.
he loved you. and promised he always would, beyond the grave, through every reincarnation, he would always love you.
even if you broke your half of the promise, he knew he'd always keep his.
taglist: @slvtforsvkvna @arminsfuckassbob @justwolosers
ᥫ᭡。
they're a problematic character TO YOU. they're problematic to me as well but I'm being weird and horny about it so it's different
I reblogged this last month, tagged it, and said “might as well see if it works.” I used this video as a reference to find all the forms that i needed (which is A LOT, especially if you’re a dependent) and sent them through the mail, not really allowing myself to hope.
dude.
$2,714 of medical debt from my top surgery - gone. im shaking this was such a weight on me for 2 years and it fucking worked. what the fuck.
This is huge. Sharing for my US friendos.
Hospitals like to hide these policies under a lot of successive links in obscure places, so if you don't see anything right away, keep looking! Get friends to help! Make it a scavenger hunt. A game where you're assassins sent to slit capitalism's throat
▶︎ Jersey Luv (starring . geto suguru)
synopsis . Thigh riding with your boyfriend. content . afab!reader, established relationship, teasing, he's kinda mean, slight size kink, degradation, praise, etc. (this is a repost from kamitv)
Your boyfriend makes you drag your drooling pussy all over the expanse of thick thigh while he's leaning back—manspread like some slut—against the couch with hungry eyes and a mean grip on your hips, just for fun.
Groaning a teasing, "You look so fuckin' pretty on me like this," as if he wasn't using you like some sort of entertainment right now.
He loved watching the way your gorgeous face twisted up all needly and nothing satisfied him more than gifting your hand a rude smack when you tried to grab at his cock.
Some fuckin' nerve you had.
Here he was trying to be nice, complimenting you, and let you get off all prettily on his thigh but you wanted to be greedy and reach for his dick instead? Suguru scoffed at you and sliped one of his hands in between your lewdly parted legs just to pinch your clit and listen to the way you whine.
Scoffing at your whole dramatic display, "Aw, what's the matter now, you mad?" He'd go on and tease, just to earn that frustrated pout of yours and smile at the sight.
You'd frown at him fully and your nails would go digging into the skin of his arm where your hand was holding onto, "When I said I wanted to ride you... this isn't what I meant, Suguru."
Your boyfriend only makes the most delighted expression that manages to piss you off even more before he says, "You should've been more specific then, huuuh?" in that mocking tone he knows you hate love so much.
To which you groan and jerk your hips forward as if to make some kind of point. Not that it helps much with the way he steels that hand on your hip and forces your cunt to grind smoothly over the slick mess you've already made on his naked thigh.
And he'd start flexing the muscles of his leg, making sure you really feel the pressure in between your sloppy folds. The whole act makes his cock ache and throb beneath the confines of his boxers but for right now, he couldn't care less. Not when he's got you moaning from his leg alone and making the filthiest expressions even as you complained about how much you "hated" this.
"C'mon, admit it. You're just as into this as I am," Suguru purrs, as if he can't literally feel the way you're sobbing all over his leg—slick dripping down his skin and wetting up all of his thigh. You were literally leaving a trail of arousal on his leg right now so it's not like you could sit there and try to play it off like you didn't agree to do this in the first place. "You're glaring at me like your pussy's not leaking all over the place right now."
You grit your teeth and let your eyes shoot elsewhere. You so desperately wanted to argue him down and deny deny deny the fact that you were actually about to cum from this but, of course, you couldn't exactly do that. Especially not with the way Suguru presses his thumb against your clit just as you roll your hips forward.
"Fuck-," You gasped before your forehead was meeting his shoulder and you began grinding harder against him.
"Uhuh, thereee she is. There's my slutty girl," Suguru taunts—again, as if he didn't place you here himself—a lazy smirk drawing itself onto his flawless features. Then he's turning his lips to your ear and moving both of his hands back to your hips to drag you against him slower, "I missed you like this, baby. So fuckin' needy against me."
You can't help the way your cunt clenches against his thigh when he says that. Not to mention the way he angles your hips to slip backwards and how he motions his leg up and rubs against your clit again. "Goddamnit, Suguru. This.. ah-, this isn't what I w-wanted." You manage to complain as you fight the fluttering of your lashes.
"Yeahh? Poor girlll." Suguru chastises against the crown of your ear. You feel the way his warm breath tickles your skin and he decides to taunt you further with a mean smack to your ass, making you jump a bit in surprise. He scoffs, " You wanted to ride my cock sooo badly, didn't you?"
Groaning again, "You know I did," You whine as your back arches a bit.
Suguru merely cocks his head to the side and looks down at the way you're clinging to him.
He could feel every twitch and nasty trickle of arousal that poured out against his leg so, it's only natural that he flashes that sly knowing smile again, "Oh, is that why you're cumming on my leg right now?"
Sometimes you hated how well he knew your body.
The way he could feel you getting even messier against him was almost more annoying than the situation itself. So, you end up searing into his shoulder, "Shut up-"
"You don't want me to," Suguru cuts off rudely, and of course his smile widens when he hears the sloppy squelch your cunt makes in reaction. "Not with the way I can feel that pussy dripping allll over me. Fuuuck, lean back, pretty girl. I wanna see her."
Do you deny Suguru? Of course not. You don't think you've ever denied this man of anything in your entire life and you damn sure weren't about to start now.
Your upper half leans back oh-so-gorgeously and you catch the way his cock jumps in reaction. Now that makes you smile, hands going back to keep yourself propped up perfectly on his leg as your eyes lowered on the sight of your starved boyfriend and your hips picked up their pace.
Suguru tips his head to the side slowly and his hands dance up and down your body slowly, "So perfect f'me." He whispers, trailing those violet eyes down your figure and pressing his leg up again jsut to watch your folds part nastily, cunt aching against him. "God, maybe I should've put you on my cock instead..."
"Ya' think?" You huff, earning a telling look from him.
"Don't get smart with me, you'd need me to stretch you out on my fingers before that anyway." Suguru argues, scoffing at your confidence. He maneuvers a hand to your ass before lifting you up ever so slightly to catch sight of the sticky muddle of cum you've left there. "Mmh..." He hums deeply, "Can't think of a single time you've taken every inch of me without complaints."
Then he sets you back down and smacks your ass again. To which you're left gasping before a sneaky smile sparks across your lips, "Moaning isn't complaining by the way. Not my fault you're fuckin' huge."
Suguru knew what you were doing when you said that.
Hell, his cock was practically crying to feel you by this point, leaking whorishly against his sweats. He tries to play it off by clearing his throat and raising a brow, "Are you talking like that on purpose so you can get what you want outta' me?"
Your smile widens, "Maybe."
You knew you had him now.
Hence why he scoffs almost immediately and rolls his eyes all sassily before saying, "Well, it's working. Lift those fuckin' hips."
banner art from “Toile No Jimiko To Omukae No Gokusotsu” || perm suguru tags (1/2):
@pr1ncxss @imyourightnow @cupidstrace @hellodeeyanna @navyllll @r4sh3li @sugo-jo @not-a-glad-gladiator @classicsimp @hopelissromantiq
@2kool4skoolll @ladybvg-l0v3r @yulissacastillo11 @daxphoriax @gorouenjoyer @avatar4eva @blubearxy @wonderfullymickey @iaintblockinnobody @inutted0
@kitassecretgf @nanasukii28 @iam-souless @nanamitiddiechomper @ohreallyfriend @kunababy @withersworld @suguphile @megottheswaskikacooooke @kvsqkiii
@yourlocalcatscammer @lucy-lulu @sukubusss @sweetieelilii @lisabelhyhn @serenadesvt @astral-arcana @aryaelan @riameriash @arminseas2
@5seos @palanggaaa @makingtimemine @theodoresvalentine @jinjen @blcknebula @babblybebe @iluvatsumuuuui @fleurdelilia @remscreams
perm suguru tags (2/2):
@muchluvfromvenus @jaibunni @msmarvelknight @a-jazzy-bee @satorus-princess @zombiiesandmaltesers @sktvienna @preciouslunlun @dazais-last-braincell
@uehubdcwbuh @dawnsoblivion @p3trich0rwh0r3 @chloeee20 @naoybby @lateforlatte @lanamyersismywife @simscollectoratdawn @z0mbi3slut @strwbrrymoonwrites
@andhereweareallalone @beereadzzz @seraphimicism @sindulgent666 @bypanana @fd3h @stalkingthisiscrazy @styrofoamplat3s @divineblunts @valberryboos
@asterielight @breakfastpasty @qualitydefendortaco @kitreader @3lliesr1fle @deartoru @klaphiee @alltoobusywriting @pawfieu @mellygoodgirl
@okanha @miyah-kaulitz @gr33nbe4ngirl @fallen-angelxoxo @maaaahhhiii @getosugurustoesucker @shrioma @leninnneeee @lovergirl65 @yxo7
MESSI IS WASHED HIT POOOOSTTTT
simply ear-resistible!
who has two floppy ears and a cute little tail? Suguru Geto, apparently!
pairing: bunny!Geto x f!Reader
content: mdni, fluff and smut, au where Geto never defected, taking care of Geto after a curse temporarily transforms him into a rabbit, teasing, multiple povs, coworker to pet to lover, Geto HATES being a bunny, pining, petting, cuddling, domestic fluff, falling in love, smidges of angst, injury, hurt/comfort, gojo being a nuisance and our favorite matchmaker, eventual smut (after he transforms back to his normal body), oral (f! receiving), back shots, unprotected piv sex, creampie, breeding kink, Geto is borderline OBSESSED
art by @aransmind + divider by @dollywons
"You got a bunny?" You giggled, bending down to get a better look at the small ball of fuzz sitting on Shoko's desk. Tufts of long black fur stuck out, beady eyes staring back at you through its mane when you squinted at it.
You never knew bunnies could glare.
Gojo laughed behind you, a big hand clamping down on your shoulder once you stood back up as he leaned in to hum in your ear. His infinity was down for once, but he still seemed a little jittery, his foot impatiently bouncing on the tile. "Not quite."
"Then whose is it?" You tilted your head to the side, one corner of your mouth curling up trying to suppress your laugh that someone actually brought one here. One of the students? Haibara? Nanami?
Its fur was obviously well-maintained, maybe the pieces of his emo little heart leftover from high school convinced him to purchase his own stoic companion.
"Yours."
"Yeah, right," You scoffed at him, rolling your eyes at the realization he seriously expected you to take this thing home and shrugging his hand back off of you. "If you think I'm babysitting whatever animal you-"
"You haven't even let me explain," Gojo whined, tugging at your sleeve.
Between missions and the stacks of paperwork he already pushed off on you, there was no fucking way you were taking care of another one of his problems.
Or pet, in this case.
"No."
"Come on, please," He purred, pitching his voice down and skimming his fingertips over your back in an attempt to butter you up.
"Ask Suguru to take care of it," You sighed, glancing back to where the rabbit hadn't moved, perched on the edge and sitting oddly still, almost observant.
"I can't," He whined.
"Why not?"
"That's Suguru."
You blinked up at him. Then at the bunny. Then back to him. You heard his words, but they weren't setting in, all the synapses in your brain refusing to fire to give them any meaning.
"You named that Suguru?" Your eyebrow shot up, bottom lip still pushed out in a pout.
It wasn't like you were friends with Geto, or more than just coworkers or acquaintances, but you sincerely doubted he would be pleased at the tiny creature in front of you sharing his namesake. Even it didn't seem happy, a harsh thump of his back foot against the table as if he was making a point of his annoyance.
"No, like, that's literally Suguru," Gojo insisted.
"Do you think I'm stupid?" Or just gullible.
You'd been the subject of Gojo's jokes before, used to the punchlines pointed at you. But this was a new one.
"Suguru, help me out here," He huffed, talking to the bunny. Who actually nodded.
God, you didn't get paid nearly enough for this.
"I swear if this is another joke-" You mumbled, leaning down to get a better look. The bunny, Suguru, was watching you back just as intently, beady eyes staring straight into yours.
"I'm not joking," Gojo protested, as if offended by the thought alone.
You stuck out a finger, wondering if it'd be rude to pet him or even just poke one of his paws, struggling to accept what you were seeing. But the second your finger got close enough to his face, he nipped you.
"Hey, wait-" His warning was a little late when Geto's freshly-sharpened incisors had already sunk into the pad of your finger.
"He bit me," You frowned, pulling your hand back and holding it close to your chest, little red droplets pooling over the broken skin.
"You stuck your finger in front of his mouth," Gojo said it like it should be obvious. "It's, like, an instinct or something."
"How am I supposed to know that?" You blinked, wiping away the blood on your shirt with a disgusted huff.
Suguru stomped his back paw again, irritated with one or maybe both of you for bickering while he was stuck like that.
"What even happened?" You grumbled, muscles pulled tight in your jaw.
"Dunno," Gojo shrugged, readjusting the blindfold over his eyes and pulling it up just enough to peek again at his best friend on the table. "He swallowed the curse one second, and the next, poof!"
He talked with his hands, exaggerating the motion and cocking his head to the side.
"Poof?" You repeated, barely holding in your eye roll.
"Shoko says he should be back to normal in a few days," Gojo just kept on going, ignoring your strained stare. He did pause though, tilting his head from side to side sheepishly. "Or a few weeks."
You half-expected Geto to pop out from the hallway, a wry smile on his face and that annoying know-it-all crinkle of his eyes. Leaning against the doorframe murmuring something about you falling for another one of Gojo's tricks again.
Sure, they'd grown up from the teenagers who used to tease you at every sister school exchange, but ever since you transferred and started working with them as adults, you'd been swept up in their bullshit enough times that you were having trouble shaking your suspicions.
"So you want me to take care of a bunny, I mean, Suguru for weeks? While you do what, exactly?" You grimaced when you corrected yourself, looking back at the door that the real Geto still hadn't walked through.
Once upon a lifetime ago, you actually had a crush on him, doodled his name in notebooks and dreamed about confessing your feelings in some cheesy way. But you'd grown up too, enough to recognize that even as adults, he paid much attention to you outside of polite 'hello's and whatever schemes Gojo roped him into.
"Who do you think has to handle his missions now?" Gojo hummed, ruffling your hair before you could smack his hand away, a cocky smile still on his face.
Unbothered to pick up the slack from his best friend's situation.
You weren't sure what was worse.
Being the one to handle Geto's workload or taking on the workload of handling him.
"I might need you to cover some of his classes too," Gojo added.
"Gojo," You groaned, having a hard time glancing over at the bunny astutely observing your conversation for more than a few seconds at a time.
"Just if, you know, he's like that for more than a week," Gojo gestured back again, like the black ball of fur could speak for itself.
There was no way it'd last that long.
Or you told yourself as much, snagging the pet carrier from the passenger seat of your car and slamming the door shut behind you as you glanced up at your apartment.
You were pretty sure Geto shared your sentiment judging by the faintly audible little grunts from inside the plastic cage, the sound of his nails scratching against the sides.
Oddly enough, you were nervous.
Stomach hurting and twisting with each step you took forward, unable to shake your discomfort and anxiety. He'd never been to your apartment under normal circumstances. Never seemed to see you as anything other than a semi-competent coworker to help Gojo tease.
The latter had been to your place before.
A few times, actually.
Finding excuses to show up at weird hours on his day off, sometimes bringing souvenirs from his missions or just to bother you when he was bored and Geto didn't want to hang out with him.
At least it meant he knew your address, boxes waiting for you by the door, the pet supplies Gojo mentioned having delivered before you left stacked up.
You had to nudge them over with your feet to have enough room to unlock the door and push it open.
"So, uh, this is my place," You cleared your throat, setting the cage down on the floor. Geto was already scratching at the door of it, little claws scraping over the metal bars.
You glanced around your very much not animal-proofed apartment, the dishes still left in the sink and the blanket wrinkled on the couch from where you'd stayed up late watching tv the night before.
"Sorry, I, um, guess I should set up your stuff first," You sighed, opening the door again to start dragging all the boxes back in and tearing them open. Settling onto the floor next to him, legs crossed as you started to take out the pen you'd have to put together, the bags of hay and pet bowls before tugging out toy after toy.
You wondered if Gojo just ordered express-delivery for anything marked bunny in the pet section.
"Sorry," You absentmindedly apologized again to Geto, not even sure what you were saying sorry for. Maybe for the fact he was stuck with you in the first place?
Was it weird to talk to him like that? As if he'd really be able to respond?
You thought it'd be weirder to act like it wasn't still him, to ignore the cues he was still trying to send.
He was shaking his head no inside the cage, displeased with your decision.
"You want out now?" You asked, chewing on the inside of your cheek as his head bobbed back up. You glanced around your place again before hesitantly reaching for the latch to unlock it. "Promise you won't like, chew on any wires or anything?"
You were pretty sure he was internally rolling his eyes at you.
Feeling even more like an idiot, you unlatched it, holding it open so he could hop out. He was sniffing the air, nose twitching. You couldn't tell if it was good or bad.
Whatever he decided, he was quick to sprint away, disappearing around the corner to assess the rest of his new surroundings, where he'd be living for the time being.
You tried not to let the discomfort stew too much, tried to dismiss how nervous you felt at having him here too, distracting yourself with putting together the pen and moving all your furniture to fit it against the wall, filling up a bowls with water and setting up a box with hay for him.
Just throwing in the chew toys with the rest of the stuff made you feel weird, icky treating him like he was your new pet.
Would he think it was pity rather than sympathy if you tried to express that to him? Or would he hate both?
You frowned, breaking down the last of the boxes and tossing them in the trash while you glanced around the floor, searching for a flash of black anywhere.
"Geto? Um, hey, I've got everything set up now?" You called out, peeking into the kitchen and not spotting him there either.
You'd daydreamed a few times about Suguru Geto being in your bedroom.
You just hadn't imagined he'd be chewing up your favorite fucking shoes.
"What the fuck?" You huffed, going to pick him up just for him to scamper away at the last second, growling at you. "You're buying me a new pair, asshole."
That little prick.
It wasn't like you did this to him. Like you even wanted him here.
"We can just fucking pretend none of this ever happened once it's over, okay?" You gritted your teeth, picking up your now-wrecked shoes and walking over to the small trash can in your connected bathroom. "That's what you want, right?"
The black ball of fuzz in front of you made a sound. What exactly it was, you didn't know. Didn't fucking care. But you were pretty sure it was as close as he could get to agreeing.
"Fine then," You huffed, chucking the once beloved pair in the trash can and fixing your stare back in the petulant beast by your feet. Acting out as if you weren't doing him a fucking favor to begin with.
But it was hard for the anger to hold when you were looking at the new him in front of you. Knowing it was probably torture to be trapped in something so small, so helpless he had to rely on a coworker he barely knew to take care of him.
Your frown softened, letting out a soft sigh as the lid for the trash can shut again.
"Once you're you, we can just go back to how it was before. We won't even have to talk again."
This was perhaps the most humiliating week of his life.
Suguru Geto was a man who could stomach almost anything. He had to. Forced to swallow curses, bite back the bile in his throat and learn to live with the taste of it.
But really, hay?
All he could fucking eat was hay? A piece of romaine lettuce? A few carrots? Blueberries if he was lucky?
The taste was fine, good even, to his changed taste buds and the way his brain was currently rewired, but you feeding it to him? Biting your lip and frowning while your fingers held it out for him to take? Like you felt sorry for him?
He hated it.
Hated being trapped here. The stupid pen where you put chew toys for him, the brush you tried to use to comb his fur no matter how many times he managed to wiggle free from your grip, how quickly you bunny-proofed the place, closing doors and putting up gates to keep him contained to the living room and your bedroom. Although, you kept your closet shut now after he'd taken out his frustrations on your shoes in a moment of weakness.
The first few days consisted of feeble attempts at communication, your face scrunching up when you tried to get him to blink once for yes and twice for no before you realized that was stupid. Then came the papers, your almost illegible scrawl in big letters to ask him if the food was okay, if he needed anything, your pout returning when he kept thumping over and over again on the one marked no.
He didn't know if he should be annoyed or appreciative when you returned home from a mission the next day with those push-to-talk buttons people supposedly trained their pets with.
The rational part of him understood how hard you were trying to help.
It didn't make the idea you were trying to tame him feel any less dehumanizing, training him like he really was your pet.
Forced cohabitation was bad enough. He wished you'd just act like he wasn't there. Leave him to eat the hay and watch the tv you never seemed to turn off and wait it out until he got his body back.
You even tried to put him in a fucking harness one afternoon when you came home earlier, cooing softly about taking him outside to get some sun and go on a walk. You gave up after he accidentally bit you when your hand got too close to his face while he squirmed his way out of it.
"Hey, um, Geto?" You called from the bedroom, voice muffled despite the open door.
His head snapped up to the sound automatically, nose twitching. That was another thing, how easily his prey instincts took control at the first hint of danger, reduced to feeling even more like a trapped animal by his own body.
He still found himself staring at you though.
You were dressed up.
Not in your usual work uniform or one of the casual outfits he'd seen you in whenever you tagged along with Satoru somewhere, but in a dark little dress and heels.
"I'm heading out for a few hours, um, sorry to leave you by yourself again," You apologized, when really all he was thinking was thank fucking god for some peace. "Do, uh, you want the tv on or-?"
Suguru thumped his back foot, the best he could do for a no without going through the series of questions that'd inevitably come if he showed an ounce of interest in those dumb buttons.
"Oh, okay," You nodded, jaw tensing as your eyes swept back over the room, looking for something. You didn't find it, returning back to your room and coming out a few minutes later with a purse hooked over your elbow. "Well, um, I'll be back in a bit."
Suguru watched the door shut behind you.
The silence was strange, the quiet he used to enjoy back in his own home drowning him here. Time took longer to pass, no phone or books or movies to distract him.
He missed reading. Missed reclining in his own bed, missed warm baths and washing his hair.
He didn't miss you.
Okay, that was sort of a lie.
Your company was comforting, in a strangling sort of way, weighing down on his conscience in your absence. All his needs were met. Food, water, entertainment. But he was still bored without you.
A bizarre itch that his hind legs couldn't scratch, one he couldn't run from, pacing pointless circles, paws leaving tracks on your soft bedroom rug.
Your scent was everywhere, on every surface, clinging to the clothes you'd left on the floor in your rush to get ready.
He was thankful you weren't here to see him burying his nose into a dress you discarded in a pile next to your half-empty laundry basket, sniffing and rubbing his cheeks and chin over it. Suguru didn't even fully understand why - one of those stupid instinctual urges that he couldn't resist.
"Geto?"
Shit.
He scurried back out to the living room before you made it past the couch, your heels already kicked off as you tossed your purse on the coffee table. You reached up to cover your mouth while you yawned, steps wobbling a little, like you'd been out drinking. He noticed it then - how the hem of your dress was rolled up on your thighs, clinging to the skin, eyes glossed over and tired.
Drinking? Or a date?
He didn't think you had a boyfriend.
Satoru would've known, would've pestered you about it or complained to him about you having a social life outside of work. He'd even tried to set the two of you up a few times, although Suguru usually shot down the idea. He'd never been that interested in having a real relationship with anyone - assumed you were the same way. But that didn't mean you couldn't hook up, have casual flings on your nights off.
It bothered Suguru.
Much more than he cared to confess.
He stared while you half-collapsed on the couch, curling up on your side and reaching for the remote on the table to turn the TV on before sighing and shutting it back off. Rolling over onto your back to just blink at the ceiling overhead.
He was tempted to actually use the buttons for once, to smack the one that said where to see if you'd actually tell him how you spent your night away from him.
To convince himself that the only reason he was so irritated was the fact that you could leave and he couldn't.
"Hey," You murmured, turning your head to glance over at him.
Suguru wasn't sure what he'd say even if could reply.
Just staring at you when you sighed again, sitting back up and shuffling off the couch, disappearing down the hall into your bedroom.
Usually, you'd stick around, hang out in the living room and kitchen, absentmindedly talking to him while you went about your evenings. He waited for you to come back out, eyeing the empty spot where you'd just been.
You didn't come back out though, no soft hum of your voice talking to yourself or the quiet pitter patter of the shower running either.
And yeah, he hated to hop, but he was hesitantly hopping through the hall until he reached your cracked open door, poking his head through and scanning the room for you.
You had changed into a tiny pair of shorts, a loose t-shirt, sprawled out in your bed and reading with your head propped up on a pillow.
It was easy to imagine you spending your nights like this.
An uncomfortable feeling was settling in his stomach, mouth dry at feeling like an intruder, an interloper in your home.
You sensed him there, maybe heading the quiet creak of the door, glancing over your shoulder.
He expected a frown. Or even just a blank expression, something polite.
But you smiled instead, one corner of your mouth barely curling up, features softening. Warm. As if you were actually happy to see him.
"Bored?" You asked, tilting your head to the side. Suguru took a small step closer, nudging the door open further. Your smile grew at the affirmation. "Want up here?"
He bobbed his head just once. The most his pride would allow. You were quick to hop off the bed, scooping his off the floor and plopping him down on the bed.
Your touch was delicate, careful. Hands that held him like he was something precious, or breakable.
It dawned on him that it wasn't because he was. That it wasn't because you were looking down at him. But because you respected him enough to care he was comfortable.
The realization didn't help how fast his new heart was beating.
You flopped back down next to him, holding out your book and flipping back to the page you left off on.
"Satoru said you like to read," You commented, eyes on the words ahead rather than him. It was true, but for some stupid reason, he was stuck on the fact you could so casually said Satoru, when he usually only ever heard you use Gojo in front of him. The only time he ever heard you say Suguru was when you thought he wasn't there, only overheard in your conversations with Satoru as if he was a frequent topic of conversation.
He never thought he'd want to know what you used to talk about before as badly as he did now.
He tried to make a humming sound, to actually reply to you for once, wondering if you'd smile again.
You did.
"I can, uh, read out loud if you want? Or pick up some audiobooks for you to listen to while I'm on missions?" You offered.
He nodded again, taking a small hop next to you, his fur brushing against your skin as he laid out next to you, nose twitching at the sweet scent of your perfume. Just your perfume.
And secretly?
Suguru was glad you didn't smell like someone else.
The you from a few weeks ago wouldn't have believed it.
Somehow, someway, Suguru Geto had slowly started to settle into his role of a spoiled house pet. Your spoiled house pet.
He'd wait near the door for you to get back, although, your started to cut a few corners to get out of missions as soon as possible, wrapping up lessons early and sending the students for treats or shopping to give them a break so you could return to him faster. You'd set up audiobooks for him to listen to, buying a speaker just for him to be able to hear it properly and connecting it to an old tablet so he could listen during the day. He'd been more willing to communicate, letting you carry him up to the TV to pick out shows and movies to watch together or picking out what fruits he wanted from the fridge.
It was nice to not be alone.
You guessed he felt the same.
Sniffing at your clothes, his nose twitching when he picked up on the faint scent of Gojo clinging to your shirt just to rub his chin over it. Sitting on your lap and letting you stroke his soft fur while he made a quiet sort of purr to let you know he was content.
He'd even started letting you brush him without protest, let you check his sharp little teeth poking out, not that you really knew what you were looking for despite how many articles you read and videos about bunny dental care you watched.
"Pretty boy," You murmured, scratching behind his ears how you knew he liked.
It was easy to forget sometimes that your precious pet was really a fully-grown man and your former coworker.
What would happen when he transformed back? Or what if he didn't?
You were pretty sure he had to. An inevitability.
Each day brought new doubts, concerns that were getting harder to hide when you woke up and he was still this furry version of him.
You couldn't read his mind. But you suspected he'd gotten used to it the same way you'd gotten used to him.
Started looking forward to you coming home in the evenings while you spent your days thinking about being curled up on the couch with him, his comforting weight on your chest while he let you pet him.
Even with your new routine, you were still painfully aware your rabbit wasn't one.
"Long day, huh?" You muttered, yawning as you continued to stroke his fur. "Me too."
Gojo had left on some mission last night, leaving you to juggle his students and Geto's, dragging them with you to take care of lower grade curses across the city before returning them to the school, scuffed up and dirt-stained.
There was a knock at the door, loud enough you jumped, and Geto did too. Little nails scratched at the bare skin of your thighs below your shorts, scurrying off your lap to your side. You swallowed hard, glancing down at him before reluctantly standing up.
"Probably just food," You mumbled, picking up a slice of the apple you'd cut up for him earlier, holding it out for him to nibble on before you walked over to answer the door and get your own dinner for the night.
Technically it was.
It was just in the hands of a white-haired imbecile.
"How's my favorite two people, er, friends?" Gojo corrected himself, stepping inside and past you before you could stop him. He half-tossed over on your coffee table, squatting down to look at his best friend turned bunny.
"You could've called," You frowned, sighing as you shut the door behind him. "Or texted."
The disruption made you nervous. Convinced you that it was some sign of change, that for all you knew, it'd go back to before, getting the cold shoulder from a fucking rabbit.
"Can't I just check in on you two?" Gojo whined, reaching out like he was about to pick Suguru up by the scruff of his neck.
"Don't grab him like that, it could hurt him," You huffed, stomping over just for infinity to stop you before you could pull him back.
"Fine, fine," He groaned, and you didn't need to see his eyes to know he was rolling them under the blindfold. "So protective."
"Whatever."
Suguru stomped, letting out a soft little growl at how close Gojo was. But you weren't sure what annoyed him more - Gojo's proximity to you or him.
"You got anything sweet?" Gojo didn't let the topic linger, distracting you as he started pushed aside the plate with apples and pulled out your to-go box, lips curling down at its contents.
"I dunno," You shrugged. "I'll look in the kitchen."
You ended up scrounging through most of the shelves in your pantry and half your fridge before you finally found an ice cream bar in the back of your freezer, sighing as you went to return to the living room.
But you paused before you entered at the sound of Gojo still talking, holding Suguru up in the air while he tried to kick his paws and free himself. You almost giggled at the sight, already thinking all the different ways Suguru would surely find to get him back for it later.
"I bet you don't even wanna go back to normal, huh?" Gojo teased, cocking his head to the side while Suguru just let out another little bunny growl at him.
"Hey," You announced your presence, barely keeping the grin off your face as you stepped inside and Gojo quickly returned Suguru to the couch, attempting to look innocent.
Suguru was quick to hop back in your lap the second you sat down as you handed the ice cream bar over to Gojo, despite the fact it felt a bit like rewarding a baby for bad behavior. You grabbed another apple slice to make up to Suguru for it, automatically smiling when he started eating it.
"He lets you feed him?"
For the first time in the past few weeks, the idea of what came next didn't feel quite so scary. That it didn't have to be awkward or unfamiliar.
It wasn't so insane to think you weren't just coworkers or awkward acquaintances anymore. Things didn't have to be weird when this was over, or you'd have to go back to pretending you didn't notice him in every room you were in together.
Still though, you couldn't shake the small part of you that hoped for something more.
Where were you?
You'd shown up late a few times, but only ever an hour or two. Suguru was too short to see the clock on the stove, but he'd watched the sky shift outside from the fading pink of sunset to pitch black, with only the glow from the tv and the tiny lamp you'd forgotten to turn off in your bedroom to cut through the dark of your apartment.
The show you switched on for him earlier shut off at the end of the season, stuck on the same loading screen waiting for someone to press a button on the remote. Which, unfortunately, you'd left on the kitchen counter in your rush getting ready this morning, just out of his jumping height if he even wanted to try.
He'd been a little annoyed at first. He knew you'd feel bad about it when you got back, probably pick him up and apologize with a cute pout, nuzzling him against your chest or cuddling on the couch to make it up to him. He just wanted you to show up already so you could. Absentmindedly stomping his foot waiting for the click of the key in the lock, for you to shuffle through after the door swung open.
But it didn't come.
It didn't help that ten minutes felt more like an hour in this body. That with no way to measure time other than the episodes auto-playing and changing daylight from the window, the seconds stretched out, the hours dragged on until it felt more like days since he'd last seen you.
He tried to remember what you were rambling about this morning, if you mentioned anything about being late. But nothing stood out. You were teaching his students today, then a mission, right?
You mentioned that Nanami was supposed to come along, so surely, between the two of you, you could take care of even a special grade if you had to.
Or maybe you had, and you were out getting drinks with him. Maybe you were in the backseat of his car, letting him undress you and pull you onto his lap. Fiddling with his belt or running your fingers through his short hair-
The lock flipped.
Suguru had already made himself mad though, stomping his back feet before you even pushed the door open, uneven footsteps stumbling through. Haughty as he held his little bunny head up high, planning on giving you the silent treatment until he heard your shaky breathing.
His heart was beating too fast, blood roaring in his ears frozen in place listening to the slam of the door behind you, your footsteps pausing as you leaned against it, holding your side with one hand.
"Shit, Suguru, sorry," You mumbled, your voice weak. "Just, fuck, give me a few minutes."
Your body was shaking, from adrenaline or anxiety, taking uneasy steps forward and bracing yourself on the couch once you were close enough.
He wished he could see you clearer, all the wrong colors and the slightly blurrier bunny vision he was confined by made it hard to tell how hurt you were, how much blood was on your already dark clothes other than what had seeped through to stain your hands.
"It's not that bad," You said it like you weren't wincing, choking down the lump in your throat as you walked towards the bathroom. Suguru couldn't do anything except follow. Couldn't steady you, couldn't hold your hand or help you sit and clean up your wounds the way he wanted to.
Shit. Why the fuck hadn't you gone to Shoko?
Why hadn't Nanami dragged you back to her?
Suguru would've.
It slipped his mind that you weren't as strong as him. That you didn't have RCT. Watching you swallow the pain, forcing yourself to keep moving until you were shoving the door to the bathroom open, eyes glazed over and exhausted as you gripped the counter hard and rumbled through the cabinets for a first aid kit.
Half-collapsing on the closed lid of the toilet seat and rummaging through for gauze to press down on the wound through the torn fabric of your shirt.
It was almost funny, he thought Gojo was full of shit before. Of course, he wanted to turn back, of course he wanted everything to be normal again.
But his best friend knew him better. Was right for once.
He hadn't wanted that - he liked being with you, liked this limbo of long days spent in the comfort of your home and nights spent in your bed.
Suguru liked you.
It just hadn't struck him until now, when he was ready to throw all of that away to be able to help.
He needed his body back.
Needed to do anything other than watch every excruciating wince and flinch as you wiped it clean. You made a small noise when you went to pull off your ripped and blood-stained shirt, balling it up and throwing it in the sink to soak so you could examine the slash across your side better.
"It looks worse than it is," You spoke so quietly it was hard for him to hear. Trying to comfort him when he should be comforting you.
He should be carrying you to Shoko, cradling you against his chest and wiping away the tears brimming at your lashes.
You wiped them yourself though, swiping with the back of your hand just to leave a streak of blood across your cheek.
"I'll see Shoko in the morning," You excused, steadying your voice as you went through each step. Popping a few painkillers before disinfecting it, struggling to patch it up, hands shaking through unsteady stitches before you finished bandaging it up.
You didn't look at him.
Suguru wanted to know what you were thinking.
He had to make himself hop himself forward, rubbing his head around your ankles to forced your attention down to him.
"Hey," You muttered, balling up the plastic wrapping of the bandaid and tossing it in the trash can. "You don't have to feel bad. I'm okay."
You weren't that convincing when you couldn't even bend over to pick him up or pet him.
He stayed by your feet while you cleaned up the first aid, filling up the sink to soak your shirt before you walked back to your bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed and preemptively wincing at the thought of finishing changing. Suguru pulled at your shoelaces to untie them for you, loathing just how little he could do to help.
You laughed, something short, sweet, leaning over to pull your shoes off, carefully lifting him up and placing him on the bed. Even the simple movement seemed to hurt, your face scrunching up as you sucked in another breath.
"Thanks, Suguru," You sighed leaning over to press a kiss to his forehead.
He needed you to kiss him again - the real him.
You felt him first.
Someone's arm was wrapped around you, your cheek pressed against something firm and warm, smooth skin and hard muscles practically suffocating you. The blanket was still pulled up around your, your limbs tangled in the fabric while the weight of him kept you there.
Him sleeping on top of you was fine when he was like, eight pounds. He weighed a lot fucking more as a human.
Blinking back surprise, trying to squirm free just for Suguru to grumble something incoherent in his sleep and hold you tighter.
"Sugu, shit, Geto," You groaned as you corrected yourself, managing to pull your arms free to start pushing him off. Your side still hurt from yesterday, a dull throb that ached with every movement.
He just readjusted instead, moving down to nuzzle his head back into your neck, long dark hair splayed out and tickling your face, still too asleep to realize he wasn't a small bunny anymore.
"You're heavy," You complained, and he stirred, his body going stiff the second it hit him why.
"Fuck."
His voice was hoarse and raw, like it hurt to use. It took him a second to start moving, every motion slow, sluggish while he untangled himself from you. You tried not to stare, sitting up in your bed while he stood, but your eyes had a mind of their own, raking over his body to realize he was very much naked.
You made a small noise, immediately looking away and throwing the blanket at him to cover up.
"Um, okay, well, I'm, uh, gonna call Gojo so he can get you some clothes," You rambled, covering your eyes with one hand and fumbling for your phone where you could've sworn you left it on the nightstand before you fell asleep.
A warm hand brushed against yours, goosebumps going up your arm as sturdy fingers skimmed over your skin. It took you a painfully long second to realized he was holding your phone out for you to take.
"Thanks," You choked out, grabbing it and crawling out the other side of the bed so you wouldn't accidentally bump into him. "You can just, uh, use my bathroom to shower or take a bath or whatever."
You were scurrying out before he could reply clutching your phone like a shield to save you from the sheer awkwardness.
In your hurry, you hadn't realized you'd torn your sloppy stitches until you felt something damp through your shirt as you slammed the door behind you and started frantically thumbing through your contacts for Satoru.
"Shit," You muttered, hitting the call button and tucking it between your ear and shoulder and hurrying to the other bathroom to clean it back up, choking down a few more pain killers dry as the phone rang.
"Good morning, princess," An annoyingly chipper voice answered right as you perched yourself on the edge of the bathroom counter.
"I need you to come over," You cut straight to the point, hoping he didn't hear the tremble to your voice when you pressed down on your wound with a fresh piece of gauze. "Suguru's back to normal. And, um, naked."
"I'd never say no to you, but a threesome at nine in the morning is a little early, baby."
"Please just bring him some clothes, idiot," You gritted your teeth, bracing yourself as you disinfected it again.
You really just needed to go see Shoko, but you wanted to make sure Suguru was fine first.
"So no-"
"I'm hanging up now, be here in the next five minutes before I have to maim you," You warned, ending the call before he could say head.
Your side fucking hurt, grinding your molars just replaying the memory of that stupid curse catching you off guard after you thought you killed it.
Nanami had tried to convince you to call Shoko, but it was her night off, and she was out on some date. You didn't want to drag her away unless you were actually actively dying.
Although, you might need to interrupt her morning after now.
There was a sharp knock on the bathroom door, and you forced yourself back on your feet.
Gojo probably fucking teleported straight into your living room.
You glanced around the bathroom, pulling a bathrobe off the door and wrapping it around yourself, tying a bow around the waist.
But when you swung the door open, Suguru was standing there, sculpted chest on display, one of your towels slung low on his hips and his hair damp and long.
Your mouth fell open, but you couldn't find the words when your eyes met his.
His face was pulled tight, jaw clenched as his dark eyes assessed you.
Your heart sank.
Punctured and peppered with holes, disappointment flooding in and drowning you with just a single stern expression from him.
Before you could linger on it, before he could really shove your head under, the energy in the room shifted, and Gojo popped in behind him.
"Sup, Suguru?" He casually greeted, slapping a hand on his shoulder.
Geto twisted around to scowl at his best friend. Gojo just chuckled, pushing the change of clothes he'd brought against his chest before glancing over at you.
"Cute bed head," Gojo commented, stepping around his friend to ruffle your mused hair.
"Shut up," You huffed, smacking his fingers away.
Suguru slotted himself between you before Gojo could do it again.
"She's hurt," Suguru spoke slowly, still frowning. "Take her to Shoko."
"God, you're both so bossy this morning," Gojo complained, grabbing your wrist and pulling you to him, peeking out from beneath his blindfold to squint at you. "How bad is it?"
"I can drive myself," You grumbled, cutting a glare at Suguru.
Really? You'd taken care of him for a month and the first thing he did was rat you out to Gojo?
"Whatever, I'll just take you," Gojo shrugged, slipping his blindfold back down and tugging you closer so you could teleport together.
You were staring at Suguru though.
Forced to look up at him now, all the softness gone, replaced by sharp lines and harsh edges. You didn't know what sort of face you were making, didn't want to when you were sure it was probably tinged with hurt or worse, longing. Caught somewhere between devastation and desire when you couldn't tell what new box he'd put you in now, or if he'd just returned you to the one you'd been stuck in before, barely more than coworkers.
That was what you promised him, right?
What you kidded yourself into thinking wouldn't be hard, no matter how much you liked his presence, how much you convince yourself there was some silent connection you shared.
You couldn't read his face anymore.
And then it was gone, replaced by trees, standing outside of the campus. Gojo was digging his phone out to text Shoko for you.
"Want me to carry you in?" He offered, shoving his hands back in his pockets to pull out loose candy and toss it in his mouth.
"No," You grimaced. "It's fine."
You could take care of yourself.
You'd been perfectly okay on your own before.
It was just a little hard to pretend it was the same when Ijichi gave you a ride home a couple hours later, returning to a quiet apartment with no one to greet you.
Stepping over a few bunny toys left out the day before, walking around empty rooms, starkly aware of just how alone you were.
Even the days felt longer, the silence louder, stretching out and surrounding you.
And yeah, you were still fine, but you ended up taking more missions just to fill the time, to give you an excuse not to return back to your room. Not to the point of really exhausting yourself, but enough that you wouldn't have to think. You avoided stepping foot back on campus, no matter how many times Gojo invited you to join his lesson plans, only going to see Shoko when absolutely necessary.
It wasn't that you didn't want to see Suguru, although it was part of it.
You just didn't know if you'd be able to keep your word if you did.
He probably just wanted to forget.
Didn't want to be dragged back to how it felt to be so small if he saw you.
The first time you bumped into him was when he was in the middle of arguing with Nanami in the latter's office, arms folded across his chest and that casually cold stare still on his face while they bickered about something.
"Um, sorry, I needed your signature on some stuff, Kento," You interrupted, forcing yourself to focus on your blond colleague as he sighed as pushed his goggles back up his nose.
"Sure."
You felt Suguru's eyes sticking to your back as you walked away.
There was a shoebox waiting for you when you got home that night, a brand new pair of shoes to replace the ones he destroyed.
You guessed it was just his way of upholding your deal.
The first time you talked to him was a couple weeks later when him and Gojo made an appearance in Shoko's office the second she stepped out after treating you.
"Hey," He spoke first, brows knitted together, searching your face for something.
"Hi," You echoed back, avoiding his sharp gaze in favor of the floor, the desk, anything.
"You're hurt?" His once silky voice still sounded raw, too low, not quite as smooth as it used to be.
"Not anymore," You shook your head.
"You shouldn't push yourself so hard," He frowned again, stepping closer. You hopped off the table you were sitting on, brushing past his broad chest to get by.
"Thanks for the concern," You muttered.
Obligatory concern wasn't of any interest to you. Whatever debt he might feel towards you, you didn't care to cash in. But a clean slate felt impossible when he'd stationed himself in every corner of your mind.
You'd started considering transferring back to Kyoto, started wondering if it was even worth staying when you just felt so weird about everything now.
Stopping a pet stores on the way home, scooping up bunnies and playing with cats and debating on if you really needed a companion. Or maybe just a date.
You'd been lounging on your couch and swiping through apps for the latter when someone started pounding impatiently on your door.
"You look like you could use a drink."
It was a stupid idea, every one Gojo had was, but you begrudgingly accepted, getting changed into a short dress and letting him drag you down the stairs to your car. He pretended to be a gentleman enough to open the driver's door for you before proceeding to be the passenger princess he actually was, sliding into the shotgun seat and flipping the radio stations on the drive to the bar.
You should've known better.
Because who else would be waiting in a booth for you when you got there?
Really, you should've left.
But you stayed, letting Gojo tug you over to join his best friend, ordering drinks and shots, careful to only drink enough for the warmth to set in, to feel the fuzz in your chest but not get too tipsy that you wouldn't let anything slip.
Gojo on the other hand?
It only took him one drink to dredge up everything you'd been avoiding for the past few weeks.
"C'mon, you'd take care of me if I got turned into, I dunno, a dog, right?" Gojo whined, slurring already, his infinity switching off as he flopped into your lap. He rarely drank - a sight you probably would've savored some other time, snapped some photos of to blackmail him later. He readjusted so his head was reclining on your thighs, fingers pulling back his blindfold so he could blink his big blue eyes up at you.
"You'd probably be a mouse, if anything," You teased, flicking his forehead.
"Nuh-uh," He argued, catching your wrist, small little flickers of energy tingling your skin that he couldn't control, pulling your hand until it was resting in his hair.
"Uh-huh," You giggled, combing through the soft short strands with your fingers.
"I'd take care of you if-"
There was loud thud, almost a heavy stomp, and it took you a second for it to click that someone had. Another to realize who.
You supposed some of Suguru's bunny brain was still there, a few little habits left he hadn't kicked.
"Satoru," Geto scolded, his whiskey glass hitting the table with a harsh clink. You glanced up to see his mouth set in a polite smile you knew was pretend. Fake and forced on, trying not to crack or twitch. "Get off."
"Fine," Gojo huffed and groaned, almost rolling onto the floor in his attempt to push off the booth and your legs to get up.
But you were busy watching his best friend, who, if you weren't mistaken, looked distinctly jealous?
You were torturing him.
He finally had his body back and here you were, torturing him.
The unsure glances you'd toss his way when you thought he wasn't looking, your soft words now addressing him politely, all the intimacy in them removed. The worst part was you weren't even avoiding him, just adhering to the stupid agreement from that first day and pretending the entire month never happened.
He didn't know how to make it more obvious he didn't want that.
But every time he stopped by your apartment, you weren't there. You were never at the school anymore either, always on some mission or with your nose buried in paperwork.
He left the shoes by your door, hoping to hear something, anything, just to get more of the same silence.
It took suggesting to Satoru that the three of you go out for drinks to get you to even come within five feet of him.
And watching this almost made him wish he hadn't.
You let Satoru plop himself down on your lap, giggling with him, petting him. Playing with his hair, fingers sifting through it how you used to stroke Suguru's fur.
Okay, he hadn't meant to thump his foot, just a leftover reflex. But it was better than grabbing Satoru by his collar and dragging him back to a sitting position.
He was only half-aware of what he was saying, if he even offered an excuse, only relaxing once Satoru sat up. His best friend yawning and stretching, digging his phone out of his pocket to check the time.
"Oops," He chuckled. "Ijichi's been waiting outside for me. You want a ride, sweetheart?"
You shook your head, but your eyes flickered over to Suguru, waiting to see if he reacted to Satoru's offer. Or maybe hoping he'd counter with one of his own.
"I'm okay, thanks though," You replied, lips pressed in a thin smile.
"Suit yourself," Satoru sighed, practically pushing Suguru out of the booth so he could get out. He tossed more than enough to cover the bill for all three of you in the table before lifted up one corner of his blindfold again, winking at Suguru before he started to turn. "Make sure she gets home safe, alright?"
The second he was gone though, you were flustered, shrugging before he even said anything.
"Could I buy you another drin-"
"You really don't have to," You accidentally interrupted, blushing and looking down at your hands in your lap. "I meant, about Satoru said, but, uh, to the drink too."
"I want to."
"It's fine," You insisted, but your smile was forced, practiced. "It was nice seeing you tonight though."
"Just nice?" He baited, barely able to keep a straight face when yours turned into a pout.
You pushed off the table, slipping out of the booth, tilting your head to the side with a conflicted expression. "Good night, Geto."
Suguru was following you out with a small frown this time.
"Suguru," He corrected. How many times had he stomped and grunted to get you to call him that in bunny form? Just for you to go back to his last name the second he was a sorcerer again?
"Good night, Suguru," You hummed. There was a hint of teasing there, a faint smile on your face he barely got a glimpse of before you walked a little faster out the exit.
"You're tired?" He asked, fresh air hitting him first as the door thudded shut behind him as he followed you outside.
"Not really." You probably only acknowledged it because you knew he'd been around you enough to know it'd be a lie otherwise.
He wanted to ask you to stay, or to leave with him instead.
"I should probably head home now," You swallowed, glancing between your feet before back out to the street ahead.
"Where's your car?"
"It's like a ten minute walk from here, I, uh, couldn't find parking," You mumbled, still not looking at him, putting yet another step between you he immediately bridged.
His hand grabbed the hem of your shirt, pinching it in his fingers lightly, just enough to get you to stop before you could slip away again.
"You wanna ride?" Suguru offered. Flying over the city at nighttime on his dragon was romantic, right? He could wrap an arm around your waist (to keep you steady, of course), watch the twinkling lights below and feel the cool breeze on your skin.
"I'm sorta scared of heights," You sheepishly admitted, shrugging your shoulders apologetically. "But thanks."
"Let me walk you there then," He insisted.
"Figured you'd probably want to just crash at your own place," You dismissed, staring straight ahead rather than looking at him.
"I wouldn't mind going back to yours," He smoothly answered back, letting go of your shirt to see if you'd try to break away again.
"Yeah?" You were cautious, eyes flicking up to his.
"Yeah."
He walked next to you, the quiet break in conversation comfortable, studying your side profile while you lead the way to your car.
"I'd take care of you," Suguru murmured under his breath. He wasn't even sure he actually said it, or if he had and the quiet footfalls on the pavement and the passing cars drowned him out.
"You'd, um, what?" You finally said, stealing another peek up at him. Your hand brushed against his, just barely, and it took everything in him not to hold it, not to interlock his fingers with yours and refuse to let go.
"If it ever happened to you," He replied, completely serious even if you were staring at him like you understood him better as a bunny.
He could practically see the gears turning in your head, like you were trying to decide how to interpret it before you landed on a joke.
"Yeah, you'd save me from being neglected or overfed at Gojo's?" You hummed, looking back at the street ahead.
"Sure," Suguru said.
"How kind of you," You laughed a little, folding your arms across yourself as a brittle breeze cut through the air, fighting back a shiver.
He took his jacket off, and you paused, staring at him with your face scrunched up, mouth parted like you wanted to tell him it was yet another thing he didn't need to do, no sound came out. He took the opportunity to help slip it on you himself, brushing your hair out of the way as you pulled it around your shoulders.
"Thanks," You blushed.
He wished he'd just listened to Satoru the first time he suggested you would make a cute couple a year ago, asked you out himself, wished there wasn't all this time wasted when you could've been his.
He refused to waste any more.
Opening the car door for you when you finally made it there, getting in the passenger seat and watching you scramble to turn the radio station to music you remembered he liked, adjusting the temperature and chuckling when you asked again if he really wanted to go to your place.
You still came up with a cute excuse after he said yes, claiming you had a book you thought he'd like, to pretend he was coming over just to borrow something.
As if it was too hard to believe you were what he liked, you were what he wanted.
"It's a little messy, but I guess you've seen it look worse," You muttered, lips pursed together as you rummaged through your bag for your key. He leaned against the door, one corner of his mouth quirking up as you threw him an apologetic look.
You found the key, turning it in the lock and pushing the door open, letting him in first.
The first thing he noticed was the bunny pen still up. Although the bowls were empty now.
"You kept everything," He commented, unsure what the weird feeling in his chest was. It was cloying, some thick nostalgia that clouded his judgement when everything was almost the same as he left it, although it all felt much, well, smaller.
You kicked off your heels, laughing a little when Suguru automatically started helping you shrug off his jacket, his fingertips grazing against your skin.
"I've been thinking about adopting a real one," You casually answered, a faint blush flooding your cheeks like you were embarrassed about it. Jealousy? Annoyance? Whatever it was, he felt absolutely territorial and entirely idiotic over the panic seizing inside him at the thought of you replacing him with a new pet. "It's been kinda weird adjusting, you know?"
"Oh," He murmured, attention sweeping back over your living room. It still smelled like you. Your perfume lingered in the air, but it was more than that, or maybe he was just more sensitive to it now. "It's been hard for me too."
"Really?" You breathed a sigh of relief, glancing back over your shoulder at him with that small smile he used to fall asleep next to.
"Yeah," He confirmed, pushing down the lump in his throat.
"Being alone-"
"I miss you," He interrupted before you could keep skirting around it, before you could find another excuse to pretend you didn't hate his absence the way he hated yours.
"I, uh, you what?" You squeaked, sounding just like the mouse you accused Satoru of being.
"I miss you," Suguru repeated, a tentative hand on your waist to twist you around so he could see your face in full. Watch your eyes widen and pretty lips part in surprise while you tried to work out if you meant it how you hoped he did.
"I missed you too," You quietly admitted, as if it was something to feel guilty for.
"I haven't stopped thinking about you," Suguru continued, tracing up your sides with long fingers, then back down to your hips.
He wanted to hold you this time instead of the other way around.
"I-"
You stopped yourself when he pulled you closer, your chest pressed against his, sucking in a sharp inhale.
But you broke eye contact, glancing away sheepishly. He followed your stare over to your messy coffee table, noticing the papers scattered across the surface. One word caught his eye, transfer in big and bold letters.
"What's that?" The panic from before flared up hard now.
You wouldn't leave.
You couldn't.
"Oh, um," You paused, embarrassed. "I was just considering transferring back to help them out. It's not like you guys really need me here."
"Do I not need you?" For once, he sort of wished he was more like Gojo.
He would throw himself down on his knees and beg you to stay.
Suguru could barely stand to even stare at you, loathed the longing in his voice when he waited for your answer.
"Do you?" You echoed quietly.
"I do," Suguru admitted, feeling something inside himself crack at the honesty.
"Suguru," You said his name like you weren't convinced.
"If you go, I'll go too."
He almost surprised himself. But he wasn't going to let life take the one thing he ever truly wanted from him, not this time.
"If you're just doing this because you feel like, you owe me or something idiotic like that," You started again, clearing your throat and trying to strengthen your resolve despite how close you were to giving in, your bottom lip starting to quiver.
"I'm doing this because I like you," Suguru chuckled.
You let him pick you up this time, wrapping your legs around his waist and your wrists around his neck, so badly wanting to believe him. Looking up at him like your whole world was in his hands when he carried you back to your room.
He half-tossed you onto the bed, hands almost shaking when they hovered over your body. He was nervous, but it felt like it had when he first transformed back, like all his proportions were suddenly wrong again, struggling to control his fingers and force them to move how they once did. Not nimble or deliberate, but messy, needy.
"Suguru," You purred so prettily, propping yourself up on your elbows and peering up at him with warm eyes. He settled on caressing your cheek, feeling the flush under your skin. "If you change your-"
"I'm not changing it," He murmured, sucking a sharp breath. He'd stay where you were, or follow where you went. Nothing had been simpler.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him on top of you, and he was struck again by how different your room felt. How tiny the bed seemed than the last time you were under him.
Then there was you.
Tangling your fingers in his hair and returning his stare, wondering if the little glints of adoration were really in your eyes or just a reflection of his own. You smelled sweeter in person, up close like this, but what he couldn't stop thinking about was your taste.
Of all the things he'd forced down his throat, rolled over his taste buds and struggled to swallow, you were the first he wanted to savor.
"Stop staring at me like that then," You let out a light huff, bottom lip sticking out. He wanted to bite it.
Your eyes fluttered shut when his nose nuzzled against yours, expecting the kiss before his mouth pressed against yours, and he was barely surprising the urge to lap at your bottom lip and beg for entry.
But you were always good at anticipating his needs, already parting your lips to let him in, your legs starting to wrap around his waist before his free hand snagged one of your thighs and pressed it down into your soft mattress.
Suguru was pretty sure he found heaven in your kiss. Divine karma repaying him for every putrid curse he'd choked down, lost between the cherry chapstick on your lips and the wine on your tongue when it slid against his.
He wanted to claim you.
Make you his in body and word and mind.
He was yours. He'd scratched and stomped and tried to fight it but it was true, wasn't it? His heart had already been cut out and you had already signed your name on it, permanently stamped him with a return to: label like he could somehow get lost when there was already an invisible leash connecting him to you.
Pulling away to breathe was hard enough. But seeing your tiny smile start to curl up, you eyes glossy and bright as they locked with his, his lungs could've collapsed at how pretty he thought you looked.
"Kiss me again," You quietly requested.
He'd kiss you as many times as you let him.
Returning his mouth to yours, offering warm open-mouth kisses like promises, loyalty and love and lust all wrapped up in his soft lips sucking on yours.
His free hand snuck between the increasingly narrow space between your body and his, tugging up your dress until he could see the pretty little lace underwear you'd worn underneath it.
"Cute," He commented, pulling away so he could them down, taking his time shimmying the flimsy fabric down your thighs, despite how badly he wanted to just rip it off in one go.
Your face was flushed, watching him with wide eyes as he tossed the panties into the laundry basket before prying your thighs apart all the way. He paused, removing his own clothes piece by piece, cock already swollen as it smacked up against his dark happy trail, pre-cum beading up along his pink tip.
Satisfaction swelled in his chest to see how soaked you were, his new favorite feast sprawled out for him.
Suguru flipped you over onto your stomach, pushing your face down and propping you up on your knees, nudging them open just enough for him to fit between them.
His second taste of you had him convinced he would never be able to get enough. Licking a clean stripe up your thighs to your entrance, pushing his tongue in deeper, flattening it as it danced inside.
"Sh-shit," You mumbled, completely flustered now, and he could just picture the pretty blush on your face, your next breath stolen as he practiced more drawn-out swirls.
His fingers leaving indents in your soft skin, the pliant muscles tensing with every squeeze of his hands.
Hearing your moans and shaky breathing only made him work harder, exploring every spot he'd stretch out later, determined to hear his name from your lips again. Devote each and every ministration of his mouth to you. His pretty girl.
"You like that?" He broke away to murmur right as you started making broken little whimpers into the mattress.
"Mm, mhm," You moaned, squirming under his grip.
"Wanna hear you, sweetheart," He sighed, pulling away just enough to admire the view one more time, tempted to leave scattered bites and kisses all over your thighs to make it just that much sweeter.
"Suguru," You huffed a complaint, all whiny and adorable as you barely found the strength to lift your head. "Keep going."
Your impatient whine might've worked on another man.
But Suguru had been patient before. Had waited for you to come back around to him. He'd be taking care of you the rest of his life, but he still wanted each second to last.
He couldn't help it, bending down to plant a kiss on the back of your thigh, letting his teeth sink in just enough to leave a small hickey, continuing up to leave a trail of them along your thighs while you made muffled noises.
"I asked you a question, baby," He reminded you, spreading your thighs apart as he left another peck close enough you had to feel his breath ghosting over your sensitive clit, almost jolting at the phantom sensation.
"You know I like it, Sugu-" You gasped when his tongue slipped back inside, surprised at the sudden warmth.
And yeah, he did, but you were clueless how much he loved it.
Loved every noise he pulled out of you, how you melted in him, let him pull you in and squeezed so tightly at every grunt and groan he made.
Adored every time you said his name, listening to your harsh exhales and watching you grip the blankets underneath you like you could crumble at any moment.
When you did? Falling apart after he slipped his hand around to your front, massaging careful circles against your aching bud until you were trembling, only held up by his arms around you?
Suguru was pretty fucking sure he was in love.
All that patience had evaporated, drained somewhere he couldn't access, need of his own taking over as he climbed back on top of you, lining himself up and barely holding himself back as he sank into you.
Half the street probably heard his groan, and your neighbors absolutely heard your pretty mewl of his name when his hands gripped your hips so mean to hold you there.
"Fuck, oh fuck, you're so-"
"Sugu," You whined, interrupting him and wiggling your hips as you tried to force him in all the way.
His composure, the control he'd cling to, both were quickly unraveling.
The sight of you bent over, his cock half-concealed inside you while you clenched around him so sinfully to suck him in?
He could probably cum from that alone.
Suguru clenched his jaw, staving it off as he slowly pushed in deeper, counting out his breaths until he bottomed out inside you, your own inhales growing ragged at the stretch and burn.
He wanted to mold you to him, to fuck you hard enough and long enough to leave an impression of every ridge and vein. Not make it two pumps before finishing.
But you had a knack for making his life difficult.
The arch of your back when he pulled out and plunged back in, the intoxicating scent of your perfume that was still driving him fucking insane, the gorgeous little gasps you let out with each thrust and smack of his hips against your ass.
He rutted deeper, his cock throbbing while your insides clung desperately onto him, watching the way your fists curled up in the comforter when you buried your face into the soft cotton to muffled your whines.
"M-mine," Suguru stuttered over the growl, hardly recognizing the husk in his own voice, swollen tip stuffed up against your womb while you squeezed around him.
Really, he was yours.
Would be your loyal dog or lap animal, whatever you wanted him to be.
Something primal inside him screamed that he had to fill you up, to mark you as his and stuff a baby or two or twelve inside you. Okay, not actually that last one.
The little sliver of him that was still operating on the most basic instincts of a small animal couldn't tell the difference though.
"Tell me to pull out," Suguru groaned, his fingers pressing harder into your hip, his reason getting fuzzier the longer you kept sucking him in. Sweat pricked at his forehead as his face fell forward to rest on your back, lips pressed to your skin like a lifeline.
"N-no."
Your voice was quiet, a soft breath that was hardly audible over the sound of skin on skin or the thump thump thumps of your headboard hitting the wall.
Barely hanging on by a strand, the tremble of your thighs underneath him and the shudders sent down your spine with each snap of his hips frayed the tether to his self-control until there was almost nothing left. Trailing kisses across your shoulder to feel the gasp he tore from your throat when you unraveled underneath him, holding you together while you fell to pieces crying out his name in broken whimpers.
He hadn't meant to.
But his teeth were sinking into the scruff of your neck, a soft love bite digging in to keep you still underneath him while warm spurts of cum coated your walls white. The thick veins pulsing until every last drop took, his cock still buried deep inside until he realized he was still half-clamped down, releasing you just to keep you pinned to the bed by his body weight instead.
"Suguru," You softly whined, turning your head so he could hear you better.
"Yeah, baby?" He murmured, pressing a few small kisses over the fresh hickies starting to blossom on your skin, lips pressing against the indents his teeth had left.
"I don't want this to be just sex," You confessed. Your voice was small, strained even, like you were embarrassed to say it.
"It's not," He promised. He readjusted so he could tilt your head, grabbing you chin as he caught your mouth with another kiss.
Part of him wished he could swallow you too - keep you with him where you'd always stay by his side. Another reminded him that was insane.
He could settle on being your boyfriend for now.
"I meant it earlier," He reiterated, kissing the corner of your mouth between words. There was no way in hell he was letting you slip through his fingers again. "You know I'm yours too."
You giggled, returning a peck to the tip of his nose as you tried to squirm free from under him, like you just remembered his cock was still inside you, cum leaking out around him and onto your blankets.
He didn't want to pull out though, didn't even want to separate when you were finally his.
Honestly, he was halfway-hoping you'd get pregnant, picturing you with a cute baby bump padding around barefoot in the sort of sundress that clung to your swollen stomach, physical proof you belonged to him just as much as he did to you.
You hadn't told him to pull out after all.
So surely, you wanted the same, right?
"You're all mine?" You hummed, shifting your hips around just to get a reaction out of him, his cock already oversensitive and starting to get hard again as his hands held you back down by your waist.
"You just want me to say it again," He chided with a chuckle of his own, sighing into your skin while you let out another weak huff that sounded more like a whine.
"Maybe," You admitted.
You looked back up at him, and he was a little too aware that he'd say it however many times you wanted as long as it was true.
"You know," You started talking again, biting down on your bottom lip as you rested your head on your folded forearms underneath them, yawning softly. "I was going to buy you a little bunny collar so everyone would know you were mine, but I guess you've already outgrown it, huh?"
He laughed again, his hand sliding up your spine to trace his own bite mark on the nape of your neck. Could you really not tell you already had him on a leash?
"I think you'd looked even cuter in a collar."
asking Sukuna if you're too clingy
The bedroom is entirely silent, illuminated only by the warm glow of the bedside lamp on his side of the bed. It’s late, well past midnight, and Sukuna’s propped up against the pillows in nothing but boxers, holding a book open in his right hand, completely at ease, while the other is trapped beneath your weight.
Sprawled shamelessly across his side, your cheek pressed right over his ribs, you let your body go limp while your mind refuses to follow suit. Restlessness creeps in, your thoughts racing in circles, dredging up problems just for the sake of having something to gnaw on. The silence makes your thoughts feel way too loud, twisting a thin, ridiculous thread of worry out of nothing at all.
Your eyes drift over the page of his book without taking in a single word, and before you can stop yourself, the question tumbles out into the dim room, your voice barely above a whisper and oddly hesitant.
"You ever think I'm too clingy? Like... you ever wish I gave you more space?"
Sukuna freezes beneath your cheek, every muscle going rigid. After a moment, he drops his book onto the nightstand, tilting his head down, crimson eyes blown wide with pure, flat-out bewilderment. He stares at you, genuinely trying to figure out if he heard you right, like you’ve suddenly started speaking a completely foreign language.
"What the fuck kind of question is that?" he asks, his gravelly voice dropping into a low, stunned rumble that cuts right through the quiet air. He shifts under you, eyebrow cocked, shooting you a look like you’ve just sprouted horns. "Where the hell is this coming from? Who put that stupid shit in your head?"
"Dunno," you mumble, heat creeping up your cheeks as the words hang in the air, sounding even more absurd now that they’re out. Your fingers fidget with a stray thread on the duvet, eyes glued to the fabric. "My brain’s just being an asshole tonight."
A deep, exasperated scoff rumbles out of your husband, but the tightness in his jaw softens almost immediately, replaced by a raw, unguarded fondness that settles over his face.
“Woman, have you been paying attention to me at all these past few years? Seriously, think for one fucking second, idiot." The command comes out rough, but there’s no bite to it, just a lot of tired fondness. He jerks his chin at the bed, making you actually look at the state of things. "Look at you. You’re basically glued to my side, I can’t even move my damn arm. You’re in my shirt, you stole my socks, and your freezing-ass hand is between my thighs. If I wanted space, trust me, you’d be on the floor."
A tiny, involuntary giggle slips out of you, but he’s not finished. His hand squeezes your waist as he shifts beneath you just enough to remind you how much bigger he is.
“I’m a grown-ass man. I’m stronger than you,” he goes on, his voice rumbling right through his chest and into your cheek. "If I wanted to move, I'd move. But you? You’re glued to me every fucking day, stealing my personal space since day one. You climb on me when I’m trying to read, treat me like a mattress—and I never stop you. Ever think that’s because I want you there?”
His hand comes up, large and rough, calloused fingers curling gently beneath your chin, tipping your face toward his. Shadows flicker across his features, but his eyes lock onto yours with a fierce, protective devotion that knocks the breath right out of you.
“I agreed to that stupid ‘hear me out’ cake just to hear you laugh,” he rumbles, shaking his head, and at last, a wide grin splits his face. “I drove across the city so you could look at ducks. Does that sound like a man who wants less of you? Your brain’s being a dick. Tell it to shut up.”
“…fair,” you admit quietly, and the heavy, tangled knot of overthinking in your chest finally starts to unravel under the weight of his logic.
“Actually, hold the fuck on,” Sukuna growls, moving from underneath you to lean over you, completely wrapping you in his bulk. “You think you’re the clingy one?”
Caught completely off guard by the sudden intensity in his voice, you blink up at him.
“I call you every fucking day, or you’d forget to eat,” he starts, not giving you a chance to interrupt, his eyes locking onto yours. "Started doing that stupid skincare with you. Hid roses around the apartment just so you’d smile all day. Crawled under a fucking car because you wanted a cat. I panic if you’re not in bed, can’t fall back asleep till you’re back in my arms. Let you tank my fucking CS rank ‘cause apparently you gotta touch my arm every six seconds. And you think I want more space? You think I’d still be here doing all that shit if you were too much for me?”
You stay completely silent, your mouth parting slightly as you stare at him, your heart hammering against your ribs from the weight of everything he’s just said. He, on the other hand, is looking at you like you’re absolutely hopeless.
“Use your goddamn brain, woman,” Sukuna murmurs with a crooked grin, his deep voice thick with fondness. “Who’s actually clingy in this relationship? I’ve been chasing after you for years…” He trails off, clicks his tongue, then reluctantly admits, “…like a fucking idiot.”
Whatever heavy, stupid fog was clouding your mind finally lifts, swept away by a rush of pure warmth. A bright smile breaks across your face as your hands slide up his bare chest, arms winding tight around his neck to pull him down into a deep, lingering kiss.
Sukuna lets out a satisfied chuckle against your lips as he pulls back just slightly, crimson eyes gleaming with mischief. "Understood?"
A breathless laugh escapes you, your chest still fluttery with relief. "Yeah. Thanks, Kuna." You kiss him again, softer this time, lips lingering on his. When you pull away, you can’t help but smile, teasing, "And it’s definitely you."
He groans, dropping his head onto your shoulder with a dramatic sigh. "Don’t start, brat."
a/n: okay, so this happened because someone asked me to write about insecurities, and that ask somehow sent me down a completely different rabbit hole. i started thinking about the difference between insecurities and your brain just deciding to be an absolute asshole for one evening and… well, this happened.
dunno, maybe it's because my previous adhd meds used to make me overthink once they wore off, and it'd always be the most ridiculous stuff i'd never question in a million years otherwise.
domestic sukuna masterlist
"are you normal about-" no I'm an insane pervert
hit my phone
⋆˚꩜｡ gf!yuki x reader ⋮ MDNI 18+, fem!reader, smut, some humor, canon jujutsu universe, sexting, sending videos, masturbation, voice kink, buff yuki agenda, nipple piercings, 🐱 spanking
a/n: there was not a single non-homosexual thought in my head while writing this #FUCKMEYUKI!!! masterlist. divider © pixopix, fanart © papernstory
I have a feeling, you think as you stare at the temptation singing its siren song on your screen at the ripe time of 12:03am, that I'm about to be screaming and moaning and throwing up over my girl.
A typical reaction to the brainy and brawny beauty of a cherub that is Tsukumo Yuki. She could be Aphrodite herself for all you know, with a hand of sculpted marble delicately outstretched and another gently parting her legs, inviting her worshippers to gaze at her in all of her divinity.
If the not-so-sly little comment she paired in with the attachment— "wish it was you touching me ;(" — hadn't been enough to get you worked up, the preview image of the damning video sitting on your phone has your legs instinctively welding shut like a steel trap, pressing some friction over your cunt to stem the sudden ache.
Shirt all racked up in the most classic of thirst trap poses, except instead of looking like a try-hard uncouth frat boy, the tease of it bunched atop her pierced breasts— no bra, holy shit, boobs, you're dizzy— is the playfully languid kind of provocation that Yuki excels at. A bit like a lioness in heat lying on its stomach, haunches high, the suggestion alone more intoxicating than anything overt could be. Her stomach and breasts take up the center of the frame— a Pandora's Box not of horrors, but of everything you could ever want in this world.
God, how you want to paint her tanned, bunched abdominals with your tongue and teeth…
The eagerly buzzing lust already spiking your clit has you tapping play on the video before you can think any harder on it, reduced to a mere slave to your own desires rather than the strong sorceress you pride yourself on being, already hunching over your screen with your teeth sawing over your bottom lip.
One second in, and you know you're in for a treat of the ages.
Yuki props up her phone against the wall her hotel bed runs alongside. The room around her is dimly lit, almosy gloomily so, overhead lights just barely atwinkle, but it still flatters her so nicely that you wouldn't be surprised if she were capable of light manipulation on top of her Star Rage's mass manipulation. Her golden skin is bathed in the dew of her perspiration, buttery-soft. Though seeing her in a hotel rather than here with you, in the bed you share with her naked skin laid out over the sheets for your own perusal, stings a tad more than you'd like.
You think you may just die if she doesn't cut her trip short and come home tomorrow.
You zone back in just in time to watch her tie her sheets of long blonde hair up into a messy bun, her shapely curtain bangs fanning around her face as she looks down, the hem of her shirt trapped between her teeth. Yuki releases it once she's set and the compression top falls right back into place above her tits, tight enough that it stays in place without slipping further down. Then, donning that pretty crescent-eyed grin that spells out her wicked intent to ruin you from hundreds of miles away, tongue dragging enticingly over the bright white of her teeth as she leers at the camera, Yuki plops back on her heels so that the entirety of her body is captured in the frame and spreads those gorgeously muscled thunder thighs.
Fuck. The glimmering shock of wetness staining her inner thighs and blonde hair-crowned cunt is enough to make your insides twist on an unconscious clench down, slick already beading at your own core. You didn't expect her to already be naked from the waist-down. Your lower belly feels like its on fire.
"Wasn't kidding when I said I wish it were you touching me." Yuki plays up her pout, giving a regretful little eye roll as her fingers start at her sternum and swirl down, down, down, chasing the need burning her asunder. The first pass of her fingers over her slit, slipping between her puffy pussy lips and presenting herself wide, makes you gasp; Yuki, on camera, copies you with a breathy intake of air. "Would you touch me here, first? Or maybe tease me a little, hm?"
Glossy and messy and so very gorgeous on display for you over the video, her cunt weeps like honeyed sap down the long stretch of her fingers, drip drip dripping a staccato of pleasure. Once thoroughly soaked, she touches over her six-pack again, varnishing the pronounced ridges defining each ab in lustorous slick. Painting herself further in a decree of her need.
"Even though I'm busy, I'm still taking the time to work out when I can, keep myself in shape. Knowing you," she muses, head tipping enough for her chin to kiss her sternum as she watches the playful heart she traces dead-center on her midriff, "you'd probably feel me up right now if you had the chance. Ah, y'know, I'd kill to hear those sweet compliments of yours fall from your pretty lips right about now. Always gets me so worked up…"
Her hand sinks right back down to cup the swollen mound buzzing with arousal between her legs. Yuki's stomach gives a mighty kick; even the mildest of touches is enough to frazzle her. Biting your lip, you widen the gap of your thighs a smidge, shoving your hand there in order to greedily rub the heel of your own palm against your clothed cunt.
"Just not the same when you're not here," she husks, and you agree.
Pleasure is pleasure no matter how it's wrought, but you're beginning to think half of desire is simply surviving the cruelty of distance when the person you crave most looks this sexy unraveling over a phone screen. It's torture when you know exactly how warm Yuki'd feel beneath your hands; how wet she'd be.
You could fuck yourself silly on the plethora of toys you two stash beneath the bed, hell, even hump the goddamned pillow she sleeps on like the degenerate freak you are for your favorite blonde, and still, it'll never compare to the unbearable luxury of having her draped over you. Tsukumo Yuki in the flesh, where temptation stops being hypothetical and becomes something alive enough to bruise.
Fuck, you might just be Sappho with the way your mind is spitting out sonnets in her name.
Yuki quivers from the veins in her neck to her bunching calves when she pulls her hood back with a finger on her non-dominant hand while the other goes to town, rolling her clit between thumb and forefinger.
A frisson of lustful excitement sizzles through you, warm as whiskey and twice as dizzying, when she moans, loud and proud, unabashed. The sound chokes off when she tweaks herself just so, punched from her chest like she's imagining your hands instead of her own; like she can't quite survive the gravity of her own desire.
"Do you think of me the same way I think of you when I'm gone? I hope so, because, hah, you drive me fucking crazy even from miles away, princess. You're always in my head. 'M always having to— mmf, get myself off. No one could ever make me feel the way you do. Not even myself," Yuki huffs, words labored, eyebrows jumping together in a scrunched-up frown.
Ardently tugging and rubbing at her reddening, jumping bud alone isn't making due anymore, apparently, for she gives in with a frustrated whimper (yup, this is going straight to the fap folder in your brain) and plunges one digit riiight up her cunt with a vulgar shhlick of her stickiness giving way. Her body swallows it with ease.
"My pussy's so wet for you, baby," she croons, voice all croaky and gone. The sound of her through your phone is like a hand between your thighs. Yuki saws her finger further in, drags it back out; wetness clings to it in webby strings that catch the meager light. "This is all yours," she adds breathlessly as she gives it a lick, dragging a helpless whine from your throat in answer.
God, what you'd give to taste her… for her to swing a leg over your face, plump ass and pussy all on display for you, and sit herself right on your mouth all proudly. For you to devour.
You splay your palm harder over the pajamas hugging your crotch, feeling your clit throb with tension. The friction isn't dry at all, given your panties are tacky and clingy to your skin already. You can work with this.
Slouching back against the pillows, you drag frantic circles over yourself to tease at the same time as Yuki anchors her weight by splaying her thighs wider and digging her knees into the give of the mattress, allowing her to hump and bounce a feverous tempo on two fingers, now. She's practically riding her fingers. The arm working at herself is deliciously corded with tension. You think you're drooling; unsurprisngly, your thumb comes away damp just from grazing the corner of your mouth.
"Missing your pretty tits; miss how you squirm when I suck on them. You'll let me pierce them soon, yeah? Just like we talked about, so you can match me? I don't think I'll be able to stop touching your tits once you get them," Yuki laughs breathily, and you just barely resist scoffing. It's totally not like she gropes you on the daily anyways, you think sarcastically.
Though, the reminder of her piercings have your eyes drunkenly dragging away from how her cunt's making a mess of the hotel sheets in order to focus on the jiggle of her heavy tits as she works herself, entire body rolling. Yuki in motion is hypnotizing; she's such a pussy-fluttering vixen. Her hooded eyes only add to her dreamy allure. They remind you of spiked hot cocoa; warm and sweet, lax and hazy.
You pause the video for a second to take a screenshot of the vision she makes. Legs bowed open, ripe cunt on display with the blonde curls surrounding it gone-frizzy from exposure to slick, her back bowed in a sinful arch that makes her look less like a mortal woman touching herself and more like a devotional painting that turns the hotel room backlighting her into a cathedral. The expression she makes is one of raptorous ecstasy, the image amplified by the strands of loose blonde gradually falling from her bun. The dim light shrouding her winks across the barbells knotted through the bases of her dusky nipples; the rhinestones on them are the color of your eyes.
Yuki's a sweat-sheened, molten-gold siren, and you're a sailor charmed stupid enough that you'd crawl straight into her waiting hands with a love-drunk smile plastered on your face. You stare at the paused screen for a beat too long after swiping your new screenshot away, struck silent by the unfairness of someone being sculpted specifically to kill each and every rational brain cell of yours, one by one. Bless (and curse) whatever gratuitous spirit that led you to meeting Yuki.
Hitting play on the video again and hearing her velvety moans resume nearly finishes you off right there. Your ears burn as the noises slither between the cracks of your skin, turning every nerve in your body traitorously toward her.
You struggle to keep your eyes from rolling back each time you rub over your clit just right, not wanting to miss a single second of Yuki working herself towards a messy orgasm to the thought of you. Peering from beneath heavy half-lids that threaten to droop even further, you watch the blur of Yuki's fingers pummeling in and out of her entrance, her cunt visibly squeezing down every time she presumably pets over her sweet spot.
"G-uhhh, shit," Yuki pants, grunting and grinding windy circles on the now three fingers she's got herself stuffed full with like she’s a bunny in heat. "I'd kill for your sweet fucking pussy on my mouth right about now, ngh. Shoulda brought you with me on this trip, I could've spared myself from the crappy hotel food 'n instead just feasted on your pussy every morning. Miss her taste— ugh, miss her smell, too. The thought of your pussy is gonna get me institutionalizedddd."
The final blow Yuki delivers with a weak yet nonetheless seductive grin— snatching up her phone to angle it beneath her, giving you a full frontal shot of her cunt spluttering all sloppy across her screen— has you wildly shoving your pajamas and panties off so fast that your ankles briefly get tangled in them before you snag your toes in the hems and rip both articles clean off, kicking them over the edge of your lonely bed.
You waste no time in rectifying the cool air jetting over your sensitive skin by warming your cunt with the squirming press of your own fingers, pushing them deep and writhing over the maddening burn of tightness quickly giving way for bliss.
It feels so good— you moan that thought aloud without a care— even though it doesn't hit the same as Yuki herself wrenching your thighs open over her own lap so that she can finger you until you're crying in staggered pulls and drowning her in your slick.
Her knuckles are coated with the salaciously sticky evidence of how much Yuki's enjoying this, wetness smearing in rivers across the back of her hand. It’s obscene, how sopping wet Yuki is. How much she squelches each time she pulls out, the raunchy plap plap plap of the bases of her fingers slapping against her cunt whenever her fingers dive back in. You groan at the sight, sounding like you've been socked ten times in the stomach and had yet to catch your breath.
"Yeaaaah, I'm not gonna l-last long," Yuki hisses from between pearly gritted teeth, her bared grin slightly crazed as it tugs at her rosy-painted cheeks. She tosses her head like a stallion, thighs violently quivering beneath her.
Blood teases your tastebuds when you bite down a little too hard on your bottom lip, the poor thing now chewed raw like a feral bunny got to your lip. You sync your pace with hers as best you can, desperate to connect yourself with her no matter the distance, desperate to get a share of her debauchery.
As if she knew exactly how you'd have yourself spasming on your fingers over her video before she even hit send on the video, the omniscent goddess on your screen peers down at the phone between her legs, mouth forming a sloppy 'o' as she croons, "You touching yourself for me, sweetheart? Is your Yuki getting you all wet and desperate? Hmm? C'monnnn, pretty girl," and that has your dropping your own phone onto your lap so you can get your now free fingers to run round and round your twitchy clit, her voice gleaming with the power of hypnosis, "give that pussy a few smacks 'til you cum for me since I'm not, hnnh, there to do it for you, juuust the way you like it."
"Fuck," you gasp, jackknifing off the bed as you fold like paper mache for Yuki and slap your hand down over your swollen-hot cunt a few times at the same time as you relentlessly work at your g-spot until you're breaking apart with a hoarse cry. Slick sprays a thick shower past the patting rhythm of your palm against your mound, soaking straight through the comforter crumpled beneath you.
You cross your legs tight around your wrists, trying to put more pressure on your cunt while simultaneously quelling the urge to yank your hands away now that pleasure has you on the knife's edge, every nerve heightened to a hundred. Heat melts down your every limb to strings of putty, making the next few taps to your clit as your orgasm tapers off lazily executed. It's only when you open your eyes to lift your legs and look past them at the mess you've made that you realize your eyes were even closed in the first place.
"Oh my fuuuck," you mutter between rapid gasps for air, voice quivering. “Holy fuck. Needed that.”
Shakily, you dislodge your fingers with a wet noise, clenching futilely around a nothingness that you wish Yuki could fill, before wiping your palms on the blanket (you're gonna clean up anyway) and fumbling for your phone where you accidentally launched it off of your body by writhing around. Your text that you send to Yuki is incomprehensible (you swear you said something intelligent and oh-so-sexy, but alas, it's been lost to the string of typos your thumbs mashed out), but she'll get the point, surely.
And that's when you realize you were so wrapped up in chasing your orgasm that you completely missed out on watching Yuki cream all over her fingers. You missed her orgasm. Your eyes bug out to catastrophic levels.
Fuck, you are a fraud fucking loser. You need to watch her unravel twenty times— no, thirty.
You don't get the chance to do your mad scramble to rewind the video before a FaceTime notification pops up on your screen.
Yuki.
You buffer for a grand total of five seconds, your synapses struggling to fire off anything useful in the wake of such a mind-numbing, pussy-tingling orgasm, before accepting the call.
Yuki's upper body floods your screen. Her phone's propped up again so that she can pull her hair down from her bun in order to retwist it into place, which she does with long, deft fingers that lazily card her summery hair back into the shape she desires.
“Baby," she purrs, and you sit up ramrod straight despite the dopey gooeyness in your body that's weighing you down. "I need you to stick your fingers back inside of yourself— I know you were touching yourself— and describe to me exactly how your pussy smells and tastes right now so I can picture the real thing while I rub one out again."
"Oh," you say dumbly, sounding like you have rocks for brains. How crassly forward of her— typical. "Hi? How are you? Good day?"
"Hey, I'm peachy how are you, better now that I'm talking to you; there, satisfied? I thought, given the video I sent you, we were past the pleasantries and all." Yuki waves off your attempt at properly conversing.
Which, honestly, is kind of a genius idea.
Seeing her lean forward on her hands and knees (the bunch of her muscles and the sway of her pierced tits is unfairly seductive) now that her bun is fixed up, those spell-binding chocolate-brown eyes all sultry-smooth and more satisfied than a well-fed lion as they eye you up through the call, doesn't exactly makes you want to talk— if anything, you're already itching for a round two. One that Yuki can now properly talk you through, and—
"So," she interrupts your train of bumbling thoughts. "This is kind of a revolutionary idea, I know, but I think we should have phone sex." Rocking back on her heels again, Yuki pulls the nearest hotel bed pillow closer to her and sits up enough to properly stuff it between her thighs (still soaked, you note deliriously), hissing a little once her oversensitive cunt is comfortably straddling it. "You gonna let me watch you touch yourself while I ride this pillow?"
Goosebumps sprout down your arms. You were right. You are about to be screaming moaning and throwing up over your girl.
perma tags: @libr4sonsa @spirit-kat @kaitospo @m1nrrva @enchantinghonymoon @shokogasm @dairyfaerie @pvmpkingod @skz8stay @floriophrastus @originalsaucy @loyalguma @amane1271 @oporotheca @teachmehowtodokiaye @dogwhiskey @sunnydayqq @yoshinorecommends @spoooooork @satoruxmo @yomama2089 @nymeriassecretgarden @nina-from-317 @uzumakioden @loudshortbookworm @elijahgetsbeachess @jadelen @dookieslayer @naammiii @luxylucylou @user3779135 @xxdiaqiaoxx @angellvk @sahlestial @cowboyvsshop @madether @iheartanzai @cryptedlullaby
many women are excited to get old and weird, but i have great news that it's fully possible to become weird now, before you get old. just imagine the heights of weirdness you will be able to reach in fifty years if you get started now. that's what I think
child of divorce yuji forcing you to call your ex!husband sukuna to say goodnight.
series masterlist
you had refused all week to give into yuji's plan that he had stolen from the internet. you were mature, healed and too busy to deal with these little dares. but it was up until one bored evening where you had finally succumbed to his challenge.
Your phone was on speaker, with the line ringing for the contact name of your ex-husband which was simply titled 'sukuna'.
no love hearts, no kisses or nicknames. you were completely over him and have been for years. the only reason you stay in touch with him is for Yuji's sake.
"I don't think he'll pick up yuj' " you murmured to him slightly. "your dad's been busy these past few days.'
and just like the old days, Sukuna always manages to prove you wrong -he always needed to embarrass you, even when he wasn't even here in the flesh.
"hello?" a coarse voice rings out on the other end of the line.
"hello." you respond and immediately you feel your stomach fall in knots. you're nervous. and you don't even know why.
looking up at yuji, his expectant face is watching eagerly as if he enjoys torturing you. he mouths "say it! say it!" and you feel like you have no choice but to continue with your dare.
you swallow down your nerves and attempt to speak as nonchalant as possible. "I just wanted to call and say goodnight."
There's a pause and there's something inside you that just knows how much he's smirking right now.
"Oh really?" he starts putting on a sultry tone, "you haven't done that in a while, is something wrong?"
you pull a face, willing your body to not fall for his tone of voice. no you won't fall like you did all those years ago. absolutely not. "No, I just wanted to say goodnight."
"do you need me to come over and tuck you in as well or....?"
"no! uhm, I mean no I'm fine but y'know I hope you have a good night."
yuji's meanwhile in the corner of the room clenching his stomach and trying his hardest not to let out a laugh.
"hmmm."
"what?"
"cut the crap."
"I'm not-" you start but sukuna manages to cut you off pretty quickly.
"listen, either tell me what you really want or don't bother wasting my time."
you pull a face, "me telling you good night is a waste of your time now?"
"yes."
"what are you even doing right now? it's 11pm and i know you don't have shit to do."
"don't turn this on me, baby, this is all about you."
"don't call me baby." you mutter.
"then don't call me to say good night."
you roll your eyes, you should have known that even the conversation of 'good night' would naturally turn into an argument between the two of you.
"is yuji good? you sure you don't need me to come over to help take care of a pre-teen?" he mocks.
"i don't" you bite, "i was just being kind and saying goodnight, i know how lonely it must get over there. are you sure you're doing alright?" your tone is filled with sarcasm, attempting to play sukuna at his favourite game.
"i dunno', " he starts, "i might need to come over to your bed so you can keep me company.'
you immediately hang up. you're done and finished. whilst yuji's laughing away in the corner all you can do is roll your eyes at the conversation.
but there's a little part.
a little part of you that you won't ever admit to yourself that misses him.
unbeknownst to you, on the other side there's still a smirk on sukuna's face as he sets the phone down, ruminating on the fact that there's also a part of him that misses you.
part two here!
