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[bonezoid]

the familiar taste of blood

[sukunaglazerrr]

HusbandKuna x Reader who lost her memory

After a tragic accident erased your memories, you no longer remember the man you married. Unfortunately for you, Ryomen Sukuna remembers everything. And he'll do whatever it takes to make you remember him too.

Everything was so much weird.

When you first opened your eyes, the world was a blur of harsh lights and a rhythmic, annoying beep that made your head throb. A crowd of people were hovering over your bed, their faces twisted into expressions of pure horror and desperation. It felt like they were looking at a ghost or maybe a god that had suddenly fallen from the sky. The moment you blinked and stared back at them with blank, unrecognizing eyes, the room dissolved into quiet, breathless weeping.

You were completely utterly lost. Who was the woman with the dark circles under her eyes calling herself Shoko? Why was she gripping your hand like her entire world was ending? You knew your own name y/n echoed clearly in the empty caverns of your mind, but beyond that single fact, there was only a vast, terrifying void. You understood the modern world. you knew what a smartphone was, you recognized the concept of Wi-Fi, and when you mumbled those details, the doctors in the room let out collective, gasping sighs of relief.

But the real shock came twenty minutes later.

The heavy door to the hospital room burst open with a violent slam. A man lunged inside like a madman, his chest heaving as he fought for breath. You had never seen anyone look like him. His hair was a soft, striking shade of pastel pink so pretty and unexpected that you wondered for a fleeting second if he had dyed it just to stand out. Dark, intricate tattoos mapped across his skin, curling around his sharp cheekbones and framing his eyes. And those eyes... they were a piercing, burning red, swirling with a volatile mixture of terrifying rage and profound, shattering sadness.

You just sat there in your oversized, faded blue hospital gown, looking small and fragile as your confused gaze met his. The man froze, roughly brushing a strand of pink hair out of his face. His clothes were covered in a layer of grey dust and dried grit, looking as though he had sprinted straight off a construction site the second he got the news.

"Fucking... God. Hey, princess... fuck, don't you ever scare me like that again" he breathed, his deep, gravelly voice cracking as he took two massive strides toward your bedside, staring down at you with a desperation that made the air feel heavy.

You shrank back into the pillows, your brow furrowing. Princess? Were you in some bizarre historical simulation? Did kings and horses still exist? No, the blinking medical monitors around you disproved that immediately.

"Mr. Sukuna, please. I need to speak with you in private for a moment," a woman in her mid-forties interrupted, her expression incredibly grave as she stepped between you and the giant. She glanced at the other people lingering by the door. There was a teenage boy, maybe sixteen, who possessed the exact same pink hair as the tattooed man, his face streaked with tears. Beside him stood another boy with unruly, spiky black hair and a dull, stoic expression that couldn't quite hide the anxiety in his eyes. At the doctor's quiet command, they all slowly filed out into the hallway.

Left alone for a moment, you stared at the stark white walls, the untouched glass of water on the bedside table, and the crushing, dull monotony of the room.

When the door clicked open again, the female physician returned, holding a thick medical chart. The tattooed man followed closely behind her. He tried to offer you a small, reassuring smile, but it looked incredibly strained on his rugged face. His crimson eyes locked onto you, tracking every breath you took as if you might literally vanish into thin air if he dared to look away for a single second.

"Hello, Y/N. I am Dr. Jennifer," the woman said kindly, stepping up to the mattress. "Do you know why you were brought here today?"

You frowned, looking between her and the towering man. "No."

The syllable was short and hollow. Beside the doctor, Sukuna’s entire frame stiffened. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle feathered violently beneath his tattoos, his knuckles turning white as he balled his hands into fists.

"Right. But you do remember your name?" she pressed gently.

"Yes... Y/N. I am Y/N," you answered firmly. You knew the name belonged to you, even if the history attached to it was completely gone.

"And do you know where you are right now?"

"A hospital?"

"Correct" Dr. Jennifer nodded, opening the document in her hands. "Look, I am going to explain exactly what happened, and I need you to listen very carefully, alright?" You gave a small, hesitant nod. "You were in a severe accident yesterday evening. You were walking home from the local market when a car veered off the road and hit you. It is a miracle you walked away with minor physical injuries, but the trauma to your head has caused a severe case of retrograde amnesia. Honestly, it's a surprise you even remember your name right now."

You let out a quiet hum, your eyes drifting down to your own hands resting on the thin blanket. That was when you noticed it a slender, platinum band set with a brilliant, flawlessly cut diamond resting securely on your left ring finger. It looked incredibly expensive, classy, and entirely foreign

.

"Y/N" Dr. Jennifer’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. You snapped your head up to look at her. "This man standing beside me... he is your husband."

The doctor tilted her head toward the giant. He was massive easily over six feet of raw, intimidating muscle, his tattooed face giving him a terrifying, dangerous aura. Your very first instinctual thought was that this man looked incredibly scary.

Sukuna didn't say a word. He just stood there, letting you analyze him, before he offered you a tiny, incredibly vulnerable nod. You tilted your head, staring into his intense red eyes, desperately searching for a single spark of familiarity. Did I really marry this giant?

"His name is Ryomen Sukuna, and he is going to take care of you," the doctor continued, closing her chart. "For the next few weeks, you need to let your brain rest, but you also need to gently stimulate it to try and regain those lost memories. Spending time in a familiar environment, in your own home with your husband, is going to be the best medicine for you."

You nodded mutely. You didn't exactly have a choice. You were being handed over to a complete stranger who happened to hold a legal claim to your entire life.

"Alright then. I wish you a safe and speedy recovery" Dr. Jennifer said with a final, empathetic smile before slipping out of the room.

The heavy silence that followed was suffocating. Sukuna cleared his throat roughly, taking a few agonizingly slow, tentative steps toward the edge of your bed. He moved with an immense amount of caution, as if he genuinely believed a sudden movement might break you into pieces. He pulled up the small plastic chair, sinking into it.

"Hey" he said softly. Even in a whisper, his voice was incredibly manly, deep, and rough.

"Hello," you replied shortly, your eyes tracking his hands.

To your surprise, his large, scarred fingers were trembling slightly as he fidgeted with them, refusing to meet your eyes. When he finally looked up, you realized the piercing red of his irises was completely glossy, swimming with unshed tears.

"Yo... you're getting discharged today" he choked out, taking a deep, ragged breath as if the mere act of speaking was causing him physical pain. "I'm going to go sign the paperwork, and then I'm taking you to... our house. I'm going to do whatever the fuck it takes to help you remember, princess."

You stared at his rugged, tattooed face for a long moment before letting out a soft, distant hum.

An hour later, you were sitting in the passenger seat of a sleek, black Jeep, The man Sukuna kept his left hand firmly on the steering wheel while his eyes flicked toward you every sixty seconds, his intense gaze making a nervous flutter erupt in your stomach.

You stared out the window, watching the city buildings, sprawling neighborhoods, and vibrant green trees blur past. Intrigued by the warm breeze, you raised your hand, pressing your palm gently against the glass as if you wanted to touch the passing leaves. Instantly, the window smoothly rolled down. Startled, you turned your head to find Sukuna adjusting the master controls, his eyes locked onto you with an unreadable warmth.

"Can I ask you something?" you murmured softly.

"Yes." The answer came incredibly fast, almost desperate. He was hanging on your every word, practically begging for you to speak to him.

"How... how did we meet?" you asked, leaning your elbow on the door frame as the wind whipped through your hair.

"We met in high school," he answered quickly, navigating a sharp turn onto a quiet, "We've been married for seven years."

"High school?" You tilted your head, a faint smile touching your lips as you extended your hand just slightly out into the rushing air. "Were we friends back then?"

"Careful" he commanded firmly, though there was no real heat in his voice. You obediently pulled your hand back inside. A faint, nostalgic softness crept into his red eyes as he looked ahead. "Friends? no. You could say we didn't liked eachother each other when we first met. You thought I was a loud, arrogant delinquent, and I thought you were a stubborn, bossy brat."

He smoothly pulled the Jeep into a long brick driveway, coming to a stop in front of a breathtaking, modern two-story house. It was painted a crisp, elegant white with sleek charcoal-grey accents, boasting massive, floor-to-ceiling windows that caught the afternoon sun.

"This is... our house," Sukuna murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "We've been living here for about four years."

He killed the engine, threw his door open, and practically sprinted around the hood of the car to open your door before you could even reach for the handle. He extended a massive, tattooed hand toward you, his palm open and waiting. You stared at his hand, your eyes traveling up the thick muscles of his forearm, before you deliberately stepped down onto the driveway without taking it.

Sukuna’s hand froze in mid-air. You watched his fingers slowly curl back into a fist before he pulled his arm away, a flash of pure, agonizing heartbreak crossing his features before he quickly masked it with a stoic expression.

As your feet hit the pavement, you looked up at the towering structure, desperately begging your brain to spark even a single ounce of familiarity. Nothing came. But as you turned around, you caught a glimpse of the man standing beside you. He was on the absolute verge of tears. His chest was tight, his jaw locked as he stared at you. You were his entire world, his beautiful wife, and yet you were looking at him like he was a total stranger. He suddenly felt a wave of profound hatred for every single time he had ever been mean or stubborn with you in the past, even in jest. He just wanted his girl back.

"The house is beautiful" you murmured gently, walking toward the porch.

*The house.* Not *our* house. The detached wording made Sukuna’s jaw clench painfully.

"Of course it is. I built the damn thing

" he muttered, following closely behind you.

It was your exact dream house. Years ago, back when you were just broke college students dating in a cramped apartment, you had traced a clumsy design on a napkin, telling him you wanted a modern white house with endless windows, three bedrooms, and a kitchen large enough for the two of you to bake and slow-dance together while listening to old jazz records. Sukuna had kept that napkin. The moment he made his fortune, he hired a crew but did the vast majority of the heavy structural work with his own two hands. He had gifted you the keys on your third wedding anniversary, and he could still vividly remember the way you had wept tears of joy, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him until you were both breathless. He wanted that smile back. He would give anything just to have you look at him the way you used to.

You stepped inside, ignoring the heavy emotion rolling off him. Sukuna quickly gathered your small hospital bags and followed you into the foyer, shutting the door behind him.

Your eyes immediately gravitated toward the kitchen. It was vast, open, and undeniably stunning, featuring a massive quartz island and a huge sliding glass door that opened directly into a manicured backyard garden. The entire layout felt strangely perfect.

"Let me show you... around" Sukuna offered quietly.

He spent the next half hour guiding you through the corridors of what was supposed to be your life. But as he showed you the grand master bedroompointing out the side of the bed where you used to curl into his chest every single night your face remained entirely blank. You felt a twinge of heavy guilt pooling in your stomach. He showed you the living room, drawing your attention to a collection of large, breathtaking canvas paintings hanging on the walls.

"You painted those," Sukuna noted, a faint trace of pride in his rough voice. "You're a brilliant artist, princess."

You blinked in genuine surprise, looking down at your hands. "I drew these?"

"Yeah." Sukuna stopped at the edge of the hallway, looking down at you with completely bloodshot eyes. He hadn't slept a single second since the hospital called him about your accident. All he wanted to do was wrap his massive arms around your waist, pull you flush against his chest, and bury his face in your hair until the nightmare ended. But he couldn't. "Look... you can sleep in the guest bedroom down the hall, or you can take our bedroom and I'll stay in the guest room. Whatever makes you feel comfortable. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable you."

"Okay" you hummed softly.

His heart broke a little more at the compliant, distant tone. "I'll go start on some dinner, and then I'll get your medication ready. If you need a single damn thing, you just call out for me, alright? Your clothes are all in the dresser undergarments in the top drawer, pajamas in the second..."

You nodded, offering him a polite murmur of thanks before retreating into the guest room. You changed into a simple, comfortable t-shirt and sweats. A little while later, his deep voice echoed up the stairs, announcing that dinner was ready. You walked down to the dining room, sitting at the large table like a polite houseguest waiting to be served.

"Do you need help?" Sukuna asked, carefully sliding a steaming bowl of homemade chicken soup and a large spoon toward you. You shook your head, grasping the utensil and taking a quiet sip. He sat across from you, his own bowl entirely untouched as he just stared at your face. "Y/N... you really don't remember a single damn thing about me?"

His voice cracked completely on the last word, the raw vulnerability of a ruthless man exposed right in front of you. You looked up, meeting his glossy red eyes.

"No... I don't. I'm really sorry," you whispered genuinely.

He let out a slow nod, swallowing the lump in his throat as he forced himself to look away. "Don't apologize. It's not your fault."

"Do I... do I have parents? Or friends?" you asked, a sudden curiosity about your own forgotten life bubbling up.

"Yeah. You have parents. Your father—"

"Where are they?" you interrupted quickly, leaning forward. "Do they know I was in an accident? Why aren't they here?"

"They haven't spoken to you in over seven years. Not since the day you married me," Sukuna said, his tone dropping into something cold and bitter.

"Why?"

"Your family is old money. Extremely strict, arrogant aristocrats" Sukuna explained, his red eyes locking back onto yours. "They completely forbade you from seeing me because I was just a rough, tattooed bastard from the wrong side of the tracks with a criminal record and a unstable future. They told you that if you walked out that door with me, you’d be cut off permanently."

You stared at him, a sudden spark of heat flaring in your chest. "Well, that's incredibly stupid of them. It sounds like a good thing we don't talk to them then."

The sheer, unyielding loyalty in your voice made Sukuna’s lips twitch, a genuine, heartbreaking smile threatening to break through his stoic mask. Even with a wiped memory, his sweet wife still possessed that exact same fiery, protective spirit.

"Yeah" he chuckled hoarsely, letting out a long sigh. "You have an incredible best friend named Shoko. You two are both doctors; you work in the exact same surgical unit at the city hospital. We have a ton of mutual friends we met back in our high school days. And those kids at the hospital? The pink-haired teenager is my nephew, Yuji, and the dark-haired one is Megumi, our friend's kid. They practically worship the ground you walk on, princess. You love those brats to death."

"Can I see them?" you asked, a genuine smile finally breaking across your face.

"Of course. Whenever you want," he promised, his eyes tracking the way your lips curved.

"How old are you, anyway?"

"I'm thirty-two. You're thirty," Sukuna answered smoothly.

"Wow. So we're getting old," you teased gently.

Sukuna let out a sudden, rough snort, a wicked glint flashing in his eyes. "Old or not, woman... you're still completely breathtaking."

A deep, violent blush instantly stained your cheeks. You hadn't been around an attractive man or any man, for that matter in your conscious memory, and having this giant, dangerously handsome individual throw such a raw compliment at you made your heart do a chaotic somersault. You quickly looked down at your soup, missing the way his eyes softened at your reaction.

Over the next three weeks, the fragments of a life began to surround you, even if the puzzle pieces wouldn't quite lock into place.

Yuji and Megumi came over to the house constantly. Yuji spent hours enthusiastically teaching you how to make his signature protein shakes and weird jello molds, his loud laughter filling the quiet house, while Megumi sat nearby with his usual serious expression. But the moment you offered Megumi a soft, encouraging smile, his sharp features would instantly melt into something deeply tender. Yet, beneath their smiles, you could see the underlying sadness in their eyes every time you failed to remember a shared inside joke.

When Shoko finally visited, she broke down completely, throwing her arms around your neck and sobbing into your shoulder. It was a bizarre, overwhelming feeling being fiercely loved by people you couldn't even remember—and a heavy weight of guilt began to settle deep in your chest. You even met Toji, Megumi's father, a tall, stoic man who didn't say much but looked at you with a quiet, profound pity that made you realize just how broken your situation truly was.

And then, there was Sukuna.

Your husband spent every single day patiently guiding you through your routines, driving you past your old university, cooking your favorite meals, and trying every gentle trigger possible. But your mind remained a stubborn, locked vault. Sukuna was growing desperate furious and completely fucked up by the stagnation.

To make matters worse, just one week before the accident, you had playfully taken down every single one of your framed marriage photographs to rearrange the living room gallery wall, hiding them away in a "genius spot" that Sukuna had completely forgotten. He had spent hours frantically tearing the house apart while you were out, searching for a single modern photo of the two of you together.

He was completely unraveling. He couldn't sleep. The woman he loved was sleeping in the room next to him, yet she looked at him with the polite, distant eyes of a stranger. He felt like a ghost haunting his own home. One evening, he sat alone in the dark kitchen and wept the third time he had ever cried in his entire life. The first had been tears of pure joy on your wedding day. the second had been out of terror when the ER doctor told him a car had struck you. and now, he was crying simply because he missed his wife so damn much

His phone offered no help either. his gallery was filled entirely with candid photos he had taken of you you stepping out of the shower with a towel wrapped around your head, you laughing in a department store dressing room, or a hilarious picture of you biting into a raw lemon and making a completely hideous face. He had no photos of the two of you together on his device; you had always been the one insisted on keeping the physical, printed albums. The only joint photos he could find were a few faded, wrinkled prints from your high school days, showing a younger, wilder version of himself wrapping his arms around you from behind while you laughed into the camera. When he showed them to you, you just stared at them blankly. It was killing him.

At the end of the third week, Sukuna was sitting heavily on the living room sofa, completely exhausted after another failed search through the house. He was mindlessly scrolling through the candid photos of you on his phone, a faint, melancholy smile touching his lips.

The heavy front door clicked open. Shoko had taken you out for an afternoon of shopping to get you out of the house, and she had just dropped you off at the curb. You stepped into the foyer, balancing several shopping bags in your arms.

Sukuna instantly locked his phone, shoving it into his pocket as he stood up, his red eyes drinking in the sight of you. "Had fun, princess?"

"Yes, I did. And thank you... for letting me use your credit card" you said softly, walking over to the coffee table and gently sliding the black card back toward him.

"You bought dresses?" he asked, pointing toward the bags. Honestly, he didn't give a single fuck about the money. you could have emptied his entire bank account and he would have gladly signed it away just to see you happy.

"I bought a few things..." You cleared your throat nervously, your fingers twisting together. "But... I actually bought something for you, too."

The words hit his chest like a physical blow. Even with her mind completely wiped, your beautiful, kind soul was still looking out for him. "Really?" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Can I see it?"

You gave a small nod, walking over to the couch and tentatively sitting down right next to him. The close proximity made his heart start to hammer against his ribs like a trapped bird.

"I don't know if it's really your style, or if you'll even like it..." you mumbled bashfully, reaching into a small velvet pouch and pulling out a heavy, intricately braided silver bracelet studded with raw, brilliant red stones. "The color... it just immediately reminded me of you. Of your eyes."

You gently reached out, grasping his massive, calloused wrist to drape the metal over his skin. Oh God, if you only knew how fast his heart was racing beneath his chest. Your soft, warm fingers lingering against his pulse point was pure, exquisite torture.

"It looks incredible, Y/N. Thank you," he whispered, a genuine, breathtakingly soft smile spreading across his tattooed face as he looked down at the crimson stones.

"Thank you... for being so incredibly patient with me" you said quietly, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Sukuna let out a long, ragged sigh, his hand hovering over yours for a fraction of a second before he pulled back. "I will always be patient with you, princess. Always."

You looked directly into his burning red eyes, and for the first time in three weeks, a warm, genuine smile broke across your face. Sukuna felt his breath hitch. he was entirely certain he was about to pass out from the sheer weight of his love for you.

"Can you stay right here for a bit? I need to go jump in the shower real quick. I'll be fast," he muttered hoarsely, his hand instinctively reaching out to gently ruffle your hair a comforting, domestic habit he had carefully maintained. You let out a soft chuckle at the gesture.

The moment his heavy footsteps disappeared up the stairs and the sound of running water echoed through the pipes, you stood up, wandering aimlessly around the quiet main floor. Your feet pulled you toward the small, cozy library nestled just off the living room. The walls were lined with hundreds of books some ancient leather volumes, others modern art textbooks. You pulled one off the shelf, flipping through the pages before sliding it back into place.

As you stepped back, your eyes caught a glimpse of something hidden on the absolute highest shelf, shoved far back into the shadows near the ceiling. It looked like a massive, heavy frame leaning flat against the back wall, obscured by a decorative ceramic vase. Intrigued, you stood on your tiptoes, stretching your arms up as high as they could go, blindly reaching for the top edge of the wooden frame.

Your fingers caught the molding, but as you pulled, the heavy ceramic vase shifted, losing its balance.

Crash!

The vase shattered against the hardwood floor with a deafening, echoing smash. Startled, you let out a sharp cry, stumbling backward as the massive hidden frame came tumbling down from the top shelf, striking the edge of the desk before landing flat on the rug. The backing of the frame split completely open upon impact, and a massive cascade of loose, glossy photographs erupted across the floor hundreds of them, scattering like playing cards across the room.

You gasped, placing a hand over your racing heart as you looked away from the broken pottery, your eyes drifting down to the sea of images covering the floor.

You froze.

Right at your feet lay a massive, professionally printed portrait. In the photograph, you were sitting securely on Sukuna's lap. You were wearing a breathtaking, flowing white lace wedding dress, holding a vibrant bouquet of sunflowers, and laughing so brightly your eyes were crinkled shut. Sukuna was clad in a sharp, tailored black tuxedo, his massive arms wrapped fiercely around your waist from behind, an absolutely massive, unbothered, triumphant grin plastered across his face.

Your breath hitched violently. You stumbled forward, falling to your knees as your hands frantically snatched up another photo from the pile. In this one, you were hoisted high up on Sukuna's broad shoulders at a crowded, flashing outdoor music festival; your mouth was wide open in a breathless scream of laughter, while his large hands were clamped firmly around your thighs to keep you safe, both of your faces painted with pure, unadulterated euphoria.

You grabbed a third photo, and the entire world stopped spinning. It was a quiet, intimate shot taken right in the backyard garden outside. You were sitting cross-legged on the green grass, wearing a simple summer dress with a soft, shy smile, while Sukuna’s heavy head was resting completely in your lap. He was looking up at you with an expression of such pure, unconditional adoration it made your soul ache, while your fingers were woven gently through his soft pink hair.

Pink hair.

The backyard.

The jazz music.

The napkin.

A sudden, violent explosion of memories ripped through the barriers of your mind. It wasn't a trickle; it was a catastrophic, roaring tidal wave. Seven years of laughter, fierce arguments, passionate late-night apologies, the smell of his skin, the exact weight of his body pressing you into the master mattress, the sound of his deep voice whispering "I've got you, princess" into the dark. It all hit your brain at once with the force of a freight train.

The sheer, overwhelming velocity of the memories made the room spin violently. Your vision blurred into a vortex of white light and crimson eyes. You let out a choked gasp, your strength entirely giving out as your body collapsed sideways onto the hardwood floor with a loud, heavy thud, the scattered photographs of your life pooling around your unconscious form.

When you finally opened your eyes again, the harsh glare of the ceiling lights was gone, replaced by the warm, dim ambiance of the living room. You were laying flat on the soft fabric of the sofa.

"She's waking up! Sukuna, look, her eyes are moving!" Yuji’s panicked, loud voice cut through the quiet room.

You blinked heavily, your vision slowly focusing. Megumi was standing right beside his cousin, his dark eyes wide and completely swimming with anxiety. Shoko was hovering over you, a small medical flashlight in her hand, her face pale as she checked your vitals.

But your heart didn't care about any of them. Your eyes frantically scanned the tight circle of people, instantly landing on the massive, tattooed man standing frozen at the foot of the couch. His pastel pink hair was damp from the shower, his chest heaving under a plain black t-shirt, and his face was a mask of pure, absolute terror.

As your eyes met his, a single, heavy tear spilled over your eyelid, tracing a hot path down your cheek. The vast, terrifying void in your mind was completely gone, replaced by the roaring, beautiful fire of your reality.

"Ryo..." you choked out, your voice a broken, breathless sob.

Sukuna froze, his entire frame visibly violently shuddering at the sound of the nickname the private, intimate name only you were ever allowed to call him.

Before anyone else could even blink, you threw yourself forward off the sofa cushions, completely ignoring the dull ache in your muscles. You lunged straight into his space, your arms wrapping fiercely around his massive neck. You buried your face in the crook of his collarbone, gripping the fabric of his shirt with a desperate, white-knuckled intensity as you pressed a hard, crying kiss directly against his tattooed jaw.

"I remember... us," you sobbed violently into his skin, your entire body trembling as the tears flowed freely. "I remember everything, Ryo... I remember you."

Sukuna’s mind completely blanked. For a single, breathless second, he couldn't even process the words. And then, a raw, ragged sound escaped his throat a mixture of a sob and a laugh. His massive, powerful arms came crashing down around your frame, pulling you so close against his chest you could barely breathe, lifting your knees entirely off the floor as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

And there, in the middle of his living room, surrounded by his family and the scattered photographs of your love, Ryomen Sukuna closed his eyes and wept for the fourth time in his life.

"I fucking love you" he whispers

(not me me writing all night just for 36 like and one reblog😣🙏🏾)

[raveszn]

Divine Love

Summary: Your parents sell you to the top drug cartel criminal Satoru Gojo. Your marriage is everything but happy. What happens when Satoru’s number one rival Ryomen Sukuna comes after his life and takes you as his wife?

Warnings: infidelity, intense crime, heavy drugs, drinking, lots and lots of angst :p, eventual fluff, slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

couples: mafia lord gojo! x reader x mafia lord sukuna!

a/n: welcome to my first multi chapter story! i’m really excited to write this fic. I personally love a good mafia romance and i wanted to write one as well!! As the story continues I will add more warnings if necessary. Biggest thank you to @1stqueenofhell for helping me edit, giving me ideas, and helping me write this!!

prologue

I

II

III

IV

[raveszn]

no i did not forget yes im struggling to write it :p

[raveszn]

this raw unreal obsession i have with sukuna should be studied

[adoring-jjk]

pro tip: don't talk bad about yourself in front of sukuna | mdni suggestive

to say sukuna doesn't like when you disrespect yourself would be untrue, because he doesn't even let you get that far. you're his, which means when you talk bad about yourself, you're offending him too.

he'll slap your ass as he passes by you getting a bowl of fruit in the kitchen, in nothing but one of his shirts and an old pair of pj shorts, hair a mess. he lets out a "fuck, don't tempt me right now," his eyes scanning you from head to toe with that familiar heat in them.

your brows furrow in confusion and you literally go to the bathroom to look in the mirror to check that your appearance didn't magically ameliorate from the last time you saw yourself. he follows you and you're almost offended when you look in the mirror. is he playing a prank on you?

"what? i literally look-"

his hand comes to grab your throat gently but firm, a brow raised as he stares down at you and then through the mirror. "you look what?" his gaze is daring you to say something negative.

you can feel that he's not joking. you swallow, "um, good?"

he hums satisfied and pulls you closer, bending down to kiss you, the way his tongue smoothly finds its way into your mouth has heat spreading through your body.

he pulls back and looks you over again appreciatively, smushing your cheeks playfully before walking away. "s'what i thought."

[grenadehearts]

tiktok trend with boyfriend sukuna wiping the bottle after he takes a sip. . . his reaction!

you sat your phone against your desk, the charm dangling in front of the camera, obscuring the view for a brief blurry second before sukuna scoffed, a large hand reaching out to flick it out of frame. “damn thing’s in the way.”

as you settled beside him, sukuna shifted into the camera’s frame too—naturally taking up more space than the camera could properly capture—large, broad shoulders, spiky, mussed salmon-hued hair pushed back from his tatted hand running through it way too many times, displaying all his sharp, sinister-looking features that stood out under the bright light in your dorm room.

a long roman nose that almost looked sculpted by the gods rather than born, edged brows pulled into a permanent annoyed expression, peach-colored lips soft despite the permanent grumpiness etched into them.

deep pools of onyx-colored ink seeped into his tanned skin, veins bulging faintly through the markings.

you glance over at your annoyed, pouting hulk of a boyfriend who, despite his rough exterior, is all soft for you.

you smile. “thanks, kuna baby.”

he shrugs, dismissively letting out a rasp-filled grunt. “tch.”

you poke his cheek in return, and he only sighs, but you feel the way he slowly melts into it, subtle and hesitant, like a grumpy stray cat pretending it doesn’t secretly enjoy pets.

“get on with it,” he demands.

you give him a pointed look.

his eye twitches before he grumbles, voice rougher this time, “get on with it, baby.”

“see? was that so hard?” you say sweetly, playing coy.

he rolls his eyes, head falling back against the chair, tongue clicking inside his mouth.

“don’t push it,” he says gruffly.

you squeal, ignoring his warning, clapping your hands together as you pull out the original-flavored ramune soda, the glass bottle clinking beneath your manicured nails while the clear liquid sloshes inside.

having tried every flavor but this one, you were excited—but more than anything, you were practically buzzing from the tips of your fingers to your toes at the trick you were about to play on sukuna.

he doesn’t really keep up with social media or trends—thinks they’re stupid. he only has an instagram because you begged him to get one so he could see your posts, and it’s literally just a black profile picture with the username mygirlfriendmadememakethisbullshit, and a bio that reads:

“fuck off im married.”

you’re not, but sukuna declares every single day that you’re his bride-to-be, ridiculously possessive about it too.

you’re his.

he’ll do anything to make sure you know that.

thankfully, his complete lack of knowledge when it comes to social media means you can play all the stupid, silly pranks on him, and he never sees them coming. and his reactions never fail to amaze you.

sometimes, you swear you can practically see steam billowing from his ears like some cartoon character. he’s embarrassingly easy to rile up.

your lips curl into a mischievous smirk for only a second before you replace it with a silky, saccharine-glossed pout.

“here,” you hum, holding the bottle out. “you try first.”

sukuna’s large hand practically swallows the bottle, fingers covering most of the label before he tips it back and takes a long swig.

immediately, he makes a face—teeth clenched, jaw tightening as he sucks in a breath, grimacing, his expression twisting in disgust.

“tastes like garbage,” he says bluntly, holding the bottle out for you to take back. “too sweet.”

you crinkle your nose. “what? gimme. i’ll be the judge of that. your tastebuds suck.”

he stares at you, his expression completely deadpan.

“clearly they don’t if i’m with you.”

heat pools low in your stomach from his compliment. you smile, pink dusting your cheeks, teasing him back.

“duh. i’m the exception.”

you snatch the bottle from him, bringing the edge of your shirt up to wipe the rim—erasing a part of him, or at least that’s what sukuna thinks as it takes him a second to fully process what you’ve just done.

his mouth tilts into something almost amused, a dangerous sort of smirk, but his crimson eyes narrow to slits, irritation flickering through them as the telltale vein in his forehead pulses.

you bring the bottle to your lips, forming a small “o” around the opening.

sukuna’s red-inked eyes narrow further, tracking every minuscule movement, locked onto you completely like a predator watching its prey—well, without the bloodshed.

“ooo, yummy,” you hum. “tastes like bubblegum.”

he swears you’re going to be the death of him—he’s had enough with your little tricks.

“what the fuck was that, huh?” he snaps. “treatin’ me like i’m some fuckin’ scum?”

you laugh nervously, trying to play it off, but he’s already moving.

rough hands manhandle you effortlessly, yanking the bottle from your grasp before he takes another massive swallow.

one large hand grips your jaw, thumb prodding at your soft lips, forcing your mouth open, holding it wide as he spits the fizzy soda back into your mouth.

he settles against his chair again like nothing happened, watching intently as you swallow it all down.

his hand lightly slaps your cheek, palm heated against your flesh, no real sting—only the phantom lingering touch that makes you feel a little too desperate for more.

“don’t do that stupid shit again,” he says, voice low, sending a shiver down your spine, your heart stuttering with a sudden, aching need for him.

꒰ྀི১ ໒꒱ིྀ masterlist - kofi - emergency comm info!

note: first time writing for sukuna.. how did i do?? this was inspired by a tiktok trend btw

taglist: @seraphsmuse @xoxojisu @esilek @candiiee @cvnt4him @panchikogirlfriend @lotusstarr @cupkiki @3lenaatvt @the-faceless-bride @badslittlemuffin @dreamcastgirl99 @wonubby @dienamiight @sofi4dsam @kawaiiclubdaily @therefore-evermore @luckybibucky @sk1ppy-art @myths-and-ledgends @icanread-icantwrite @changkyunnnie @twoplayergaymers @socialobligation @calliopemanga @izutwos @doubelieveme @ivankinnieclatter @roronoafushiguroaratakahakari @green-orange-bloom @sparklylanddetective @lem-hhn @gaige312 @ryobaby @hrts4cupid @buuxbear @b00rants @v4mp1r3b4tzz @trilxogyyy @loveergirll @searchingfornothinggg @megumisrighttoe @rarebambi @vitya124 @prettisilky take a look at this post to be added, or removed!

[hannii-space]

Enjin was obsessed with the sound of your voice. The sweet melody you emitted when you spoke drove him wild. You could even tell him you wished him dead, and his heart would pound like crazy just from hearing it coming from you.

He was obsessed with seeing you wear his uniform jacket, or when you couldn't find your clothes in the morning and opted for his shirt that left nothing to the imagination. He would simply bite his lip and imagine the most insane things with you in them.

"Enjin," you would say, and he would look at you with eyes full of lust, a gleam that not even his Jinki could produce.

"Yes, baby?" he would reply, his hand encircling your waist and pulling you dangerously close with that smile that drove you crazy.

His other hand would move to your face, gently caressing your cheek, his thumb would brush your lips as you spoke, and his eyes would never leave yours. He was simply obsessed.

[st4rlit-sk13s]

all this touching

minors DNI this fic is 18+, by continuing to read you consent to reading adult content

tattoo artist gojo x reader

smut, gojoxreader, tattoo shop au, fem reader, oral sex, p in v sex, creampie, praise kink

The buzz of the needle tingled more than actually hurt. Satoru Gojo, was diligently working on a piece for your inner thigh, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he worked. You didn't look down at him, you knew better than that but his slender fingers were caressing your skin above where he was working on the tattoo. An innocent touch for sure, he wasn't the type to do that on purpose, but intention aside the effect was the same. The touch sent an electric shock through your whole body and you had to fight the urge to snap your legs shut.

"Sorry pretty, I know it's kind of a sensitive area, but keep your legs open and relax," he said looking up at you his white hair bouncing up in a way that made you want to curl your fingers in it. You bite the inside of your cheek and force your body to relax. "Good girl," he adds smiling before pushing his glasses back up.

"Don't say that," you say but it sounds a bit too breathy to come across as genuinely annoyed. He smiles, this cocky little smirk that you never see outside of the studio and runs his hand over your leg in a way that can only be teasing. "'Toru," you try to warn, even to you, it sounds more needy than anything and suddenly he looks as flushed as you feel. The hint of pink on the apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears contrasting starkly against his pale skin. You swallow before speaking again, the tension in the air suddenly palpable. He's still looking at your face but his gaze starts going down and you can't help but feel naked.

Satoru stands up from his stool, pushing your leg up with one hand. You let out a small gasp as he gets impossibly close to you. With your hips still at the edge of the tattoo chair, you can feel when he presses against you. He was hard.

His hand didn't leave you leg, but he towered over you and his other hand moved up your other leg until finally stopping at the hem of your shirt. He was giving you a chance to stop him, to tell him you didn't want him the same way he clearly wanted you. His expression carried layers, you could read, his arousal, but under that was nervousness and hope.

You let your arms come up, not to stop him, but to wrap around his neck, to pull him in. You press your lips to his, and he freezes, his hand on your hip tightening enough to leave finger prints. You pull back, afraid you read him wrong, but as soon as your lips are off of his, he comes to life chasing your mouth with his. He uses the tip of his tongue to motion for you to part your lips, to let him in. You do and his tongue immediately finds yours. He tastes like mint and something sweet, but you don't care to figure out what it is right now, not with the way his hand is snaking up your shirt until it reaches your breast. Not with the way you can feel how hard he is even through his skinny jeans.

You roll your hips flush against his and he lets out a sinful moan. He lifts you up enough to take your shirt and bra off in one go and then presses his lips against your neck, tracing the veins with his tongue. He works his way lower while his hands fumble with your shorts. When he can't get them, he lets out a frustrated groan and you take over, lifting your hips to slide them off. He helps make sure they don't touch the unfinished tattoo on your thigh and then with far more accuracy, he sheds his own shirt and pulls his pants down just enough to get his cock out.

He has a cocky grin on his face when he sees the wet spot in your panties. "So pretty," he mutters, more to himself than you. Then he smiles up at you before kissing the wet spot over your clit. You let out a small whine and he pulls back. "Shh, there's other people here you have to be quiet baby," he teases before going back to kissing and sucking your clit through your panties. When he finally comes up, they're ruined and he slides them off all the way, throwing them into some corner of his studio.

The cold air only serves to make you wetter, and he starts kissing your thighs teasingly. You try to push his face closer to the spot you really want him to be, but pulls off and looks at you. "don't be a brat baby, let me enjoy you," he whispers. You must pout because his hand comes up to the sweet spot between your legs and rubs your clit a little before pulling back off.

"'Toruuu," you whine again. This time he smirks and gives you what you want. His long fingers rub your clit as he buries his face in your cunt. He uses his tongue to clean the mess that was dripping out of you before pushing into you. You automatically wrap your fingers in his hair, pushing his face closer, until he's practically suffocating. He lets out a moan that's muffled by your body. As he starts fucking you faster on his tongue, your thighs close shut around his head. You can feel his confident smile against your most sensitive spots and his free hand wraps around your thigh. You feel your imminent orgasm and try to warn him, but he keeps going until you're biting your bottom lip to keep a moan from escaping.

When you've ridden out your orgasm, he licks you clean again before coming up. His glasses are sitting funny on his face and he has this dopey grin about him as he licks his lips clean. You don't hold back your urge to reach out and fix his glasses, and when you do, he leans in and kisses you again, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

His erection rubs against the inside of your thigh as his tongue pushes on the inside of your mouth. He makes soft unintentional whines that shoot straight through your body into your cunt. Without opening your eyes you start feeling for the hem of his boxers, rubbing against his erection, eliciting another delicious whine in the process. After fumbling around for longer than necessary, you guide the boxers down over his impressive erection. He moans into your mouth and grips the base as soon as his cock is free. You pull back enough to get a glance at the monstrous cock in front of you. Your nervousness must show because when he captures your mouth again, he's smiling.

He pulls back, "come on baby, I'll be gentle," he practically whines against your lips before slotting his back against yours, as if the kiss in it of itself is a promise. You nod, and one of his hands moves down to your hips, the other still tightly wrapped around the base of his cock as he slaps it against your sensitive hole a few times, smiling at how it causes your vaginal muscles to contract in anticipation. He spits in his hand and rubs it up and down the length of his cock before teasing you further with the tip.

"'Toruuu," you practically purr, he groans and finally pushes in, painstakingly slow, as if hes afraid he's gonna hurt you. "Please stop teasing me," you ask, your voice tight.

"I'm not trying to tease you pretty girl, please I wanna savor it," his words come out a bit slurred and breathy as he finally gets all the way in. "Y'urr so-,"he starts before letting out a groan, "squeezing me too tight, relax baby, please," he begs, his voice tight as he grits his teeth. "Please baby, I can't last if you don't relax."

You relax your hips and your muscles as you accommodate his size. He wasn't the thickest but his length more than made up for that. He pulled out until only the tip was still inside you and then thrust back in quickly, it felt as if his cock was all the way inside your stomach causing you to bite your lip to avoid moaning too loudly.

He pulled back out, only the mushroom tip still inside you and then thrust again, biting back a moan of his own. "Fuck pretty girl, you're so perfect," he half whispered. His pet names for you sent a reaction coursing through your body that you're sure didn't go unnoticed by him. He began thrusting a little faster, expletives and pet names exiting his mouth in hushed whispers and nearly silent whines. As the room filled with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, you found yourself unable to remain as silent as you would have liked. You wince and whine trying to avoid any guttural moans, this was still a public place after all. His thrusts were getting faster and you felt hotter, more desperate.

You could practically see when Satoru lost the rest of his self control, and you definitely could feel it in the way his hips lost the crescendo of the rhythm he had set. When his body started moving of it's own accord chasing after his pleasure. He bit your lip, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough that you could feel his desperation kicking in. His glasses were barely on his face now, and when he pulled back you noticed he was nearly silently pleading with you about something. You try to listen in, try to hear it, when you finally do it's not what you were expecting.

"Please pretty please let me cum inside you. Please I— I need to, I don- don't think I can stop," he whimpered. You nod slightly, and he loses it, his lips find yours again and he pushes against them hard as his erratic movements start slowing down just enough to keep him on the edge.

"Please Satoru, p— please you have to keep going," you beg, grinding your hips against his chasing your own release. He picks his pace back up, this time not giving you and time to prepare as he goes until you can feel his cock swelling and burning up inside you. You know you're close too, you feel the way your muscles have contracted around his erection, the way it was getting harder for him to thrust. He takes his thumb and starts massaging your clit. It doesn't take long before you reach your peak, and he follows suit immediately. He paints your insides white with rope after rope of his warm cum, until it's leaking out around his cock. He finishes riding out both of your orgasms and when his cock finally starts to soften up, he pulls out to see the damage. Immediately more of his cum leaks out until it's dripping on the tattoo chair underneath you.

You're both panting, your eyes glazed over from pleasure. After a few minutes, Satoru comes to and finds a clean towel to wipe you down with. As he goes to grab the towel, you notice movement near the doorway. It's at this point you realize your mistake. Neither of you had bothered to close the door, as quiet as you were, the man standing tall in the doorway had still heard you. His long hair was pulled back in a bun with a piece in the front sticking out and when he smirked at you, his snake bites shown in way that meant this was none other than Suguru Geto.

i wonder what will happen next! No beta reader we die like everyone in JJK.

Taglist: @raveszn @kamoswrld @sug4rbrry @stargirlforthefics @spacebabe02

if you too wanna be added to the taglist click here now!!

[raveszn]

Tinder?

m.list

included: Choso, Gojo, Geto, and Toji and Nanami

warnings! fluff and suggestive messages but that’s all!

synopsis: saying that your found their friend on tinder!

a/n: it’s been so long since i did one of these but anywho credits to the artist and this is INSPIRED by a tiktok so don’t get me.

[raveszn]

Say it back!

included: Sukuna, Gojo, Geto, Nanami, and Toji

Synopsis: not saying I love you back to the jjk men!

no warnings just fluff ofc m.list

a/n: hehehe felt bored. did i proofread this absolutely not but that’s not new around here

[raveszn]

Say it back!

included: Sukuna, Gojo, Geto, Nanami, and Toji

Synopsis: not saying I love you back to the jjk men!

no warnings just fluff ofc m.list

a/n: hehehe felt bored. did i proofread this absolutely not but that’s not new around here

[raveszn]

Tinder?

m.list

included: Choso, Gojo, Geto, and Toji and Nanami

warnings! fluff and suggestive messages but that’s all!

synopsis: saying that your found their friend on tinder!

a/n: it’s been so long since i did one of these but anywho credits to the artist and this is INSPIRED by a tiktok so don’t get me.

[raveszn]

ugh i wish i had motivation to write :/ i feel empty

[gughnt]

ryomen sukuna texting series

synopsis: you swallow one of sukuna’s fingers, but his voice in your head was driving you mad, so it might’ve seemed crazy (definitely was crazy) but putting his essence onto your old phone seemed like a relief. until the texts started.

a.n: yo guys 🥹🥹 my first series!!! this was a concept i had for a while, but i finally got my ass working on it and i’m ready!! if u wanna be added to a taglist, just ask!

google searches

sorcerers reaction

miscellaneous texts with sukuna

period

taglist: @scammers-and-scotch , @ssseraphs , @fortune-kiki , @slxt4h1m , @v4mp1r3bat , @pretty-guardian-jirai , @dreamydaredevil

[starzgirlforthefics]

⋆˚꩜｡⋆ flip the switch.

after a specific library session (here), you and satoru became fuck buddies.

cw: MDNI 18+! rough, mirror sex, hair pulling, he’s kinda mean, sub->dom satoru, ovulating reader, barely proofread!

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

“i-i said get on your knees.” he stammers out, attempting dominance, but almost unsure.

and here you are, actually listening to him. slowly sinking to your knees, looking up at the flustered mess of a man.

oh how the turn tables.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

after a steamy library session one night, you and satoru had become friends with benefits. well.. your friends say you’re basically in a relationship. you hung out, face-timed, and texted all the time. you studied together still, but unlike the past, you now both got a reward out of it.

you getting to use satoru in any way you wanted.

he was so content being submissive for you. he still couldn’t believe a pretty girl like you wanted to be friends with him. let alone friends with benefits. letting you edge him when you stroked his pulsating cock, getting on his knees ready to dive in between your thighs, or even watching you ride him in any way you wanted.

anything to hear your satisfied moans or call him those names. needy. pathetic. a good boy.

but tonight? the vibe felt.. off.

it was a saturday night, and you were both surrounded by textbooks and exam practice papers. however, you weren’t teasing him like you usually did. not giving him random kisses to make him flustered, or calling him teasing names. instead, you looked flustered and oddly quiet. squeezing you legs shut, and subtly squirming and shuffling around on the bed every time he looked at you.

“you feeling okay, pretty?” he questions softly, that gentle tone he always has travelling to your ears.

“hm? you look up from the textbook. “o-oh yeah. just need to go to the bathroom real quick.” you quickly spring off the bed in a suspicious hurry, leaving your phone behind.

he looks at the device with a hello kitty case.

he really shouldn’t.

but he does.

he quickly grabs your phone entering the password (you don’t put any effort into hiding it around him), and goes onto your messages. nothing to change her mood there.

then he eyes your cute little period tracking app. maybe she was due her period or something. his eyes shift to the bathroom door, then back to the app icon. he clicks on it, only to be met with a calendar, then a message in bright pink underneath, surrounded by little pink and white hearts.

“OVULATION: Your libido may be heightened this week!”

“oh shit.” satoru mumbles before quickly swiping off the app and placing your phone back.

a faint blush has crept up onto his face, as he racks his mind of the women’s cycle he has done so much research on. he remembers reading about how women had a strong desire to explore sexual fantasies during this phase. maybe she wanted something different from him?

needed something different?

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the three hour study session finally came to an end. you both stand up from the bed and stretch your aching muscles, bones clicking here and there. satoru makes his way over to your side of the bed, sitting next to you on his plump mattress.

“hey beautiful.”

you give him a wonky smile.

“hey toru.”

you carry out your usual routine. a slow, almost shy kiss, which quickly becomes heated. his tongue slips into yours first. wet, warm, slightly rougher than usual. you follow, grasping his spider-man shirt with needy, wandering hands, smirking as soon as they find the tent in his joggers. it was the part of the routine where you jerked him off and edged him until his face was stained with tears, all before he sinked to his knees to eat you out.

it was mesmerising how pathetic he got everytime you touched him. cute whimpers and muffled moans of your name and little nicknames he’s given you. all before he covers your palm or his toned stomach with white spurts, throwing his head back in pure bliss and long awaited relief.

well.. that’s how it usually goes.

you run your pretty manicured nails over his throbbing, clothed member, ready to slip underneath his waistband. all of a sudden, a firm hand grips your wrist, pulling it away.

you furrow your freshly plucked brows and look up at the nerdy boy in pure confusion.

“satoru what are you—“

“get on your knees.” he says quietly. unsure. you almost don’t hear the four eyed boy.

“what?”

“i-i said get on your knees.” you looks you dead in the eyes. they were filled with determination and something fiery.

the glint of pure lust in his eyes sends you over the edge. it was either that or the surge of hormones in your body that have you slowly getting off the bed, and sinking to your knees in front of him.

he spreads his legs so you can settle between them, before taking his thumb and pointer finger to grasp your chin. he tilts it ever so slightly up so you are looking at him properly.

“i’m gonna give you what your body needs. s’that okay beautiful?”

you can only nod, still in genuine disbelief. but the shock doesn’t end there.

what wasn’t on your bingo card, was gojo slipping that same thumb into your mouth, pressing against your warm tongue muscle. as if your mind was being controlled by a parasite, you suck.

“gooood girl.”

the praise was low and deep, so contrary to the high pitched moans he gave you every weekend.

before you know it yourself, you are sat on his bed, calves tucked under you. hoodie and shorts discarded on the floor, leaving you in a matching comfy bra and thong set. on the other side of the room filled with movie posters, satoru is fiddling with his floor length mirror. you tilt your head in curiousity as he angles it towards the bed, but not daring to ask any questions, still stunned by his little act earlier.

he called you a good girl. and stuck his thumb in your mouth.

you.

it’s usually you calling him a good boy.

you’re snapped out of your busy thoughts with a satisfied huff coming from satoru’s direction.

“now you can see how pretty you look when i fuck your brains out.” he chirps innocently.

you fully choke on your saliva.

“you’re hilarious toru.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

oh. that wasn’t a joke.

thrust after thrust, you were being pounded into the navy sheets of gojo satoru’s bedding. hair wrapped into a pony by his firm grasp, pulled back just enough to arch your back. the flesh of your ass rippling with every back shot this man was giving you, controlled and steady, but still somehow desperate.

however, every time your head dropped slightly due to the sheer pleasure of his throbbing dick inside of you? he would sternly, but also carefully pull you back up by your hair to have you look at yourself in the mirror.

the fucking mirror.

the full length mirror that satoru had angled right infront of his bed, so you could see every. single. detail.

“look at yourself. fuckkk baby- look at how well you’re taking me.” he moans, deeper than he usually does, but still with that familiar whiny pitch.

“what— why are you acting like this toru? all dominant and- mph! you finally snapped?”

you pant out in a strained voice.

“cause you’re ovulating. could tell y’just- fucking hell.. needed to get dicked down, beautiful.”

his dick was reaching places it never did when you rode him. prodding at that oh so sensitive spot, earning him the prettiest whimpers and moans satoru couldn’t get enough of.

watching your face scrunch up in the mirror whilst he roughly pounded you from the back is a scene that would be etched in his mind forever. it was all so fucking overstimulating he had to slightly hold back, resulting in the same buzz he got when you edged him.

“fuckin watch yourself. look how badly your body needed this.”

almost embarrassed, you make eye contact with yourself in the mirror. damn you looked a hot mess. your mascara was smudged under your eyes purely from them watering so much. your mouth shaped in a pretty “o”, lipgloss long gone. then you look at satoru.

the nerd looked like he had solved the hardest equation possible. pupils blown with pure lust, bottom lip captured by his teeth, eyes glassy, and glasses slipping down his nose from sweat. not to forget that pink blush dusted on his cheeks that turned you on so much everytime you dominated him. how did he still manage to look so submissive (omega) when he was pounding your sopping pussy?

“toru- fuck i’m close. please. fuck— harder.”

you swear you hear a smug scoff.

“harder? you really needed to get fucked like this huh?”

before you have a chance to retort to his smug comment he lets go of your hair, letting you plop!down, face down ass up. he slams into you repeatedly with a roughness you would never expect from him. you always assumed he would be the type for passionate, loving, sex if he ever dominated you. but here you are, getting your shit railed.

pathetic moans and pleas from you are muffled into his bedding, begging him for a release, whilst your own wetness dribbled down your plush thighs.

how the fuck has the flip been switched?

“that’s my good girl.”

hey that’s my line.

he tips you right over the edge, legs giving out as all you feel is white hotness from your throbbing cunt. repeating curses into his duvet (comforter for the americans rahhh), he finally pulls back. you feel a warm wetness splurt onto your back, painting your skin with his creamy seed.

he leans over placing the softest kisses along your spine. watching how you shiver from his delicate touch, he can’t help but smile.

“such a pretty mess for me. did i do a good job, pretty girl?”

“y-yeah. that was.. you did so good toru.” you look at him over your shoulder. his face was dusted with a darker shade of pink, and he looked so fucking pleased with himself, you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. he giggles back at you before plopping himself down on the bed so he’s laying face to face with you. he kisses you softly, repeatedly asking if you’re sure you’re okay inbetween kisses.

“sooo should i add ‘rail y/n’ on our monthly revision schedule?” he grins, glasses askew.

you can’t help but laugh at the snarky comment.

“shut the hell up four eyes.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

barely proofread lols sorry! but nerdjo won again on my poll! justice for nanami🫪

also lmk if u wanna be added to any tag lists!

★ @st4rlit-sk13s @raveszn @cupidstrace @spacebabe02 @kamoswrld @flowers-inthe-field

[fre4krena]

you find a grey hair in SUKUNA'S beautiful pink locs

you run your fingers through sukuna’s soft pink locks, gently ruffling them as he melts further into your hold with every passing second. his arm stays snug around you while the two of you lie tangled on your couch, lazily watching reels from his phone.

that’s when you see it.

“sukuna.”

“hm?” he nudges you lightly when you go quiet, shifting just enough to glance up at you. “what’s up?”

“y-you…” you hesitate, fingers brushing through his hair again. this time a little more focused. “you have a grey hair!” you point at it, eyes wide.

he lets out a quiet huff. “so what?”

“wait— wait! there’s more!” your fingers keep searching, and he groans, tossing his phone aside.

“you done? it’s just a few grey strands. what’s the big deal?”

your expression crumples, nose scrunching in that way he knows too well… cute, but dangerous. his hand comes up instinctively, cupping your cheek.

“what are you crying about now, brat?” the “insult” doesn’t stick, it never did even from the moment he met you.

you don’t answer, just sniffle quietly, and he sighs under his breath before shifting. he maneuvers you down beside him on the too-small couch, half his body hanging off the edge, but he doesn’t care. his arms wrap around you, warm and steady.

“love,” he murmurs, voice low and gentle, “you gonna tell me why you’re crying, hm?” his thumbs brush the tears under your eyes.

you sniffle again. “it’s just that… it means you’re getting old…”

he huffs out a quiet laugh. “you worried i won’t be as handsome?”

you lightly swat his arm. “never! i’ll just have more competition…” you mumble, embarrassed, and he chuckles into your hair.

“i’m flattered you’re crying over me getting older.”

“when i get a grey, will you cry?” you pout, and his eyes flicker down.

“yes.” he answers without missing a beat.

“is it because i’ll be ugly—”

he bites lightly at the junction of your neck.

“ow— ow! it was a joke!”

he presses a soft kiss over the spot right after, lingering there as he buries his face into your neck. “no. i won’t cry because of that.”

“then what for?”

you feel the warm puff of his breath against your skin as he pulls you closer, arms tightening just a little.

“it’ll just means my dream is coming true…”

he lifts his head, looking at you with so much quiet adoration it makes your chest ache. his eyes soften, almost glassy, like he might cry if he let himself.

“i’ll grow old with you.”

★ yooo i finally got ideas and posted hell yeahhh, it might be shitty but hey at least it's something