尺乇丨几 @satorusaysiloveyou - Tumblr Blog

Dopamine

You're married to Satoru Gojo - an arrangement since your childhood, one you're so excited for. You soon find out - he wants nothing to do with you. Any one is preferable, from the waitress at your engagement party, to his secretary. Torn apart by insecurities and devastated by the fact that you can't make this one sided affection work, you decide to find something to keep you going until Gojo finds a way to end the marriage. That's what lands you right in the notorious boxing ring in town - led by Ryomen Sukuna, who finally sees you.

pairings - Nepo baby! Gojo x Reader x Boxer! Sukuna

warnings!!! - oral ( f receiving) cum eating, fingering, rough sex, semi-public sex, lots of emotions, lots of filth - obsessed Satoru and Sukuna, both men wanna breed reader, throuple vibes, messy ass fucking dynamics, angst, feelings, creampies, spitting, fingering, crying, multi rounds, choking, rough sex and light bondage (think I got most of it???) enjoyyy - 10.2k

a/n - I was so glad to get back to this, idk how many ppl will see since I'm marked mature </3 butttt enjoy if you get to!

<<<part six - masterlist - playlist

part seven

You

Watching Sukuna fight was intense.

It was insane as you sit there in the audience, watching him punch, using every move you’ve learned and many you haven’t even scratched the surface of yet – with the cheers, the crowd going insane for him. You are towards the front where he wanted you, just a little secluded as you watch him move, surprisingly light on his feet for just how huge Sukuna was.

He floated across that ring, beating the day lights out of the poor damn fool that thought they could compete. Sukuna mostly just trained, but he decided to join one. You weren't sure if it was to just beat someone up for his own frustration, or if Sukuna genuinely missed the ring.

Maybe a bit of both.

His eyes catch you even across the entire crowded arena, his lips quirking up. He swipes at his chin with the glove, letting someone dab his bloody eye for just a minute, covered in sweat. His black tattoos are just glimmering with sweat, shining under the light, you can feel your heart racing.

Part, worry.

Part, being utterly turned on in the worst possible way. You get a text from Satoru then, peeking at it.

Satoru - coming home tonight?

You - yes I will be. In a couple hours. You?

Satoru - yeah same. Is he coming to dinner again?

You giggle a bit.

What life were you living? It almost seemed absurd, like some sort of a fever dream. The way both men ate dinner together with you last night. Somehow talking and not killing each other despite how tense they both were near each other.

As if you were the unspoken agreement.

You know Sukuna wants you all to himself, but you also learn that Satoru wants more. He wants more time, he spends time trying to get to know you. It's intense, it's terrifying, everything about opening up to Satoru when you don't know if he is sincere.

Yet you couldn't help but smile when you text him back, cursing him internally then.

Fucking Satoru.

You - No, he has a lot to do. Want me to give him kisses for you?

Satoru - yes please, give him all my love <3

Life has gotten extremely interesting since the first time Sukuna fingered you on the counter, the first time Satoru sent the girls away – girls you have now grown in just a short time not to hate quite so much. Of course what they did was hurtful, and you resent them – but for Jennifer you already made a call and got her a position.

Sukuna thought it was pretty insane, but he supported it, Satoru didn’t even know just yet.

You - I’ll give him all your love.

Satoru - you’re a fucking brat, he’s right.

Maybe you are.

Sukuna slams his fist with a sickening crunch, drawing your attention right back to him, you watch as the man lays there, and the ref counts – one, two, three.

Knock out.

Sukuna’s hand is raised as you cheer with everyone, the sounds thunderous with just how famous Sukuna really was, you stand right with them, clapping and feeling his gaze locked on you, all sweaty, breathless, his chest rising and falling. You can’t help but feel concerned with just how beat up he is, but also…

Fuck he’s sexy.

Are you really some slutty little brat, after being a good girl for so very long?

It’s not long after you’re walking in that locker room – and it’s just Sukuna.

“You came, hmm?” Sukuna tilts his head, studying you in the locker room, bulb swinging overhead casting shadows as he leans back against the lockers on that bench, his thighs spread wide. “Did you like the show?”

You don’t answer him, still trembling as you see how many cuts and bruises he has, half his jaw is swelling, making your tummy clench with worry. You cross the small space, standing between those thighs, letting his hands – huge and calloused, knuckles all bloody – come up to frame your face, thumbs stroking your cheekbones almost gently.

That’s the thing about Sukuna – even when he’s brutal, even when he’s fucking you so hard it hurts – he’s gentle with you in ways you can’t express. With his gaze and his words, how he’ll talk you through everything, how he cradles your face even now like it’s so precious.

The duality of him versus Satoru is never ending.

Satoru was hardly rough with you the one time you were alone together, but there was an underlying desperation, yet he gripped your face differently, like he thought you’d slip away. Sukuna is just a little more gentle, like he gives you that option to pull back, knowing you don’t want to.

“Sukuna…” You murmur softly, sighing now, gripping his wrists. He smells intoxicating like this, that sweat fucking ruining your senses. It’s only been a couple days and you already crave him.

“Look at you,” he murmurs softly, his ruby eyes dark as they drink you in “All cute and worried for me, hmm?”

“Of course I am…” Sukuna leans forward, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s messy, needy as he tugs you close, muscled thighs on either side of you. “Mnh…

“Those sounds you make, fuck,” you can feel him shaking himself, taste the copppery hint of blood mixing with his saliva right as he licks into your open mouth, claiming it for his own.

“I should clean you up…” You whisper now, pulling back as his manager comes in, pausing at the sight of you two.

That’s when it hits you, how dangerous it is to be public with Sukuna – no, not everyone knew you, but enough people did. Luckily they just smile and hand you some antiseptic and a clean rag.

“Trust you’ll take care of him?”

“Absolutely,” you smile as they shut the door behind them, walking over to the counter for a moment with shaky hands, feeling him study you. “You did so good against him, Kuna. It was insane.”

“Yeah, it wasn't that hard,” you scoff, rolling your eyes and peeking back at him, smiling just a bit. “Worried about me, really? Six foot five, two hundred plus pounds of me?”

“Yes I worry…” You frown now, dabbing the antiseptic on the gauze and walking back over, pressing it to an open cut, making him suck in a breath. “Look, and you’re a big baby.”

“Tch, me a baby,” you giggle and he glares at you. “Such a brat.”

“You say that, but I think you are,” he rolls his eyes as you keep dabbing at the cuts, suddenly feeling it again.

Split into pieces.

It’s so easy here in his arms, it’s so perfect – isn’t that what love should be? Easy, effortless, perfect like you just fit – but then you feel horrible, knowing those feelings for Satoru exist. That they haven’t died when they should have, and no matter how much Sukuna lets you feel them, you hate them.

LIke a sickness for that man with the blue eyes who gets on his knees and begs to just taste you, the desperation in which he begged you just to say his name, it rings in your head as you think of last night. He had stood by your door for far, far too long, as if he may come lay down, but he held himself back, he stopped himself.

Did you want him to lay with you?

Maybe you did – and maybe you feel worse about it, as you clean your… boyfriend. Sukuna has become your boyfriend, even though you’re married, and even that seems like a word not good enough. Was there anything better than being like this with him, aside from when you had both of them on you?

“How was last night?” He asks, husky now.

“He just slept in his room,” your answer is quiet, cleaning up his cheek carefully, tilting your head just a bit and studying the red streak on his face. “He wasn’t happy about your video, no, but he didn’t say much.”

“Surprised he didn’t beg to lick my cum out,” you scoff and roll your eyes at him. “Didn’t fuck him last night?”

“Not after we were… no, Sukuna, haven’t talked much to him today,” he hums, his hands slipping up your waist, lips pressing along your collarbone. Your hand entangles in his messy pink hair – damp with sweat, sighing a bit. “Would it make you upset if I had?”

“Him getting any part of you is insane considering he doesn’t deserve shit, but no. I would never be upset at you,” he grips you tighter. “Wanna fuck thoughts of him away though? Wanna pump you full of me instead? Yeah.”

“Kuna… when you talk that way…”

“You’re wet, hmm? Pretty lil girl, so slutty for me,” you tremble when he stands, hauling you up in his arms like it’s nothing, kissing you again, over and over. “Did that fight have you wet?”

“Yes,” you whisper, letting him set you down, he moans, spinning you around so that your hands brace against the cold metal of the lockers. He shoves your skirt up, spreading your thighs to find you over your panties, damp already from need. “Kuna!”

“Miss me already, brat?” He whispers, yanking them aside as he lifts you up, the heels you’re in making it just enough for him to bend down and plunge two fingers in your messy cunt. You can feel the heat of his body pressing against your back, feel him taking you over.

“Yes, Kuna,” he moans, teeth sinking into your neck, fingers buried knuckles deep, your plump pussy lips gripping him so good he moans out even louder. “W- want you.”

“Want me to fuck you right here?” he whispers those words, breath ghosting against your ear, tickling it, making you tremble. “Gonna fuck so many kids into you, would you want that, brat? All my babies inside, not his?”

“You’re so insane,” you mumble, he laughs then, gripping your chin as he moves his fingers up and down, knowing your every spot. “Kuna!”

“Would breed you over and over, fuck… imagine,” you’re lost in his filthy images of that – of you round with Sukuna’s baby, of your tits full as he mumbles it and squishes them. “Hah, how cute you’d look.”

You swallow nervously, “Is this y-your kink?”

Sukuna chuckles, a dark sound that makes your eyes roll back, the way he moves against you makes you feel so small compared to him. “Kink? Nah, never before you. None of this shit before you, losing my goddamn mind.”

“I… y-you…”

You can’t talk, not when he’s pushing you further, when the raw scent of him is filling your nostrils, the coolness of those old, beat up lockers rushing against your skin as his rough fingers fill you. His lips dragging, leaving little marks everywhere they roam, teeth sinking into your skin, sharp and biting.

“Want you to smell like me when you go back to him, want you covered in my hand prints, dripping with my cum,” Sukuna yanks those fingers out before you can hit your peak, pulling your hair back and groaning, cock heavy against your ass as he presses it through the thin gym shorts. “Not a kink, just what you fucking do, god what you do.”

You look back with drugged eyes now, hand reaching back to feel him, he hisses at the contact, pressing you further against the lockers, turning you right around and lifting you, hands gripping your ass. “Kuna I…”

“You’re still talking? I need you cumming,” his cock is heavy and leaking when he tugs it out, pressing right against your messy slit, stretched open just for him. “Have to fucking have you, now.”

“Need to tell you…” He chuckles at you, kissing you again, fat cockhead and that piercing just pressing on your slick hole.

“Tell me what, brat?” His eyes are dark when he keeps positioned at your entrance, breaths coming quick. “Say it, use your words.”

You swallow nervously.

You’re gonna say it.

“I love you,” he pauses then, faltering at your words, you curse and shut your eyes, wondering if you’ve ruined the moment. “S-sorry it’s sudden and… but I feel so much and… it’s not fair to-”

“Shut up.”

You glare and he chuckles. “What!?”

“Shut up, brat,” he murmurs, softer then, cupping your face as he presses your back against those lockers.

“You… shut up, you… jerk!”

“I love you,” he answers now, with a laugh, shaking his head. “God I fucking love you, even if you’re not all mine, even if I have to share you with a dumb fucking twink that I hate.”

With one brutal, mean fucking thrust, Sukuna is buried fully inside you, so rough and the stretch so insane it’s a blur, his words, the desperation, the stretch of him.

“Feel me? Feel me fucking ruining you?” He whispers now, you just nod, tears spilling as you cry out, the sound echoing in the small space of the locker room, a mix of pain and overwhelming, sinful pleasure with him just pulsing inside you. “Who’s inside you right now?”

“You, Kuna,” your answer makes him laugh, a cruel sound, his lips against yours again. “You.”

“Me.”

*****

Sukuna

He doesn’t give you a moment to adjust like he should, like he usually does – not with your words ruining him, not with you destroying him. No, he instead sets a punishing rhythm in your tiny lil cunt, lifting you and dragging you right down his cock, the slap of his hips against your ass loud and obscene, the lockers reverberating and shaking.

Love.

Yes, Sukuna loves you – and no, it’s not pure, it’s not sweet or anything of the sort – it’s insanity, everything you put him through, the way you so utterly and effortlessly ruin him in ways that are never going to repair. If Sukuna can’t have you – even if he shares you – no one else can.

There’s no world in which he lets you go, not when you look at him with hearts in your eyes, with drool spilling from your lips, gasping out with your nails scraping uselessly against the sore shoulders of his, bare with them pressing in. “F-fuck… Kuna…”

“Yeah baby,” he groans softly, lifting your body like it’s nothing – it is nothing to him, you’re his to fuck, his to ruin, and he loves to do it. To use your body, and he knows you love that shit. “Love me usin’ ya? Fuckin’ cocksleeve f’me, pretty, perfect lil cocksleeve, hmm? For my cum, for my cock?”

“Yes,” you’re lost in it – you, once a good girl who barely kissed, becoming slutty for him, he loves every bit of the confidence in your gaze as you drink him in, as you spread your thighs as wide as they can go. “Y-yours…”

“My toy, huh? Mine,” he’s possessive then – even in moments he tries to act like he’s okay, like he’s sane, he can’t pretend when it’s raw like this – he can’t pretend like he doesn’t hope you’ll choose only him.

He hopes you fuck whatever frustrations it is out on that dumb fuck and come right back, that you’ll lose interest and stay his – toxic, maddening, infuriating – you, you, you. It’s all that’s spinning in his head like a madness, like a mantra as he fucks your cunt like he owns it.

He wants to own you. Every piece of you.

“Cunt got split open by me, hmm?” He whispers, a hand on your throat as he leans you against those lockers – you’re so sweet and pretty, even obscenely being fucked like this. You can only whimper in response, earning his soft laugh. “Can’t answer, baby?”

“Mnh,” Sukuna tugs your mouth open as he splits your cunt open like he says, as he buries himself, losing himself in your very scent, your everything.

“Open f’me,” he whispers, you so eagerly obey it’s precious as he leans so damn big over you, spittin right into your open, gasping mouth, letting that saliva just drip right down your lips. It’s filthy, degrading in other times, but with you? The spit feels like worship, like you taking him.

All him.

It’s all Sukuna could even think while he was in that boxing match, every other thought was just of you sitting there – of how he wanted you immediately, in the ring with every victory, but he can’t have you like that. It just makes him fuck you meaner, more desperate, but he knows what you can take.

“Swallow it,” he commands softly, and you do just that so fucking obedient and pretty, your throat working convulsively. “That’s it. All of me. Every fuckin’ part, hmm? Inside you.”

Sukuna fucks you desperately now, in ways he’s never been with a woman, how can he not be lost inside you? Bury his face in your neck, pounding your cunt with no mercy as she melds so pliantly to his shape.

“Made f’me,” he whispers. “This cunt is mine. You hear me? Mine – he can have you when I’m done, but you’ll always be mine.”

You sniffle at that, he wishes he could hold it back – wishes he could stay controlled and dominating, sometimes he can, usually he can. He wants to give you everything, but in this moment after his fight?

It’s all desperation.

You nod in response, gasping again. “Love… love you…”

“Yeah, do you? Love me, brat, love me fucking you like this?” You nod eagerly, h “Then cum for me, lemme feel her.”

“I’m s-so… I’m…”

“I know what you need,” he murmurs then, pulling out and having you desperate, hands trying to keep him there. He laughs softly, turning you and pressing your face against the lockers by the small of your back, lining his cock back up. “Arch.”

You do it perfectly, letting him line his cock back up, wrapping a hand around your waist and finding your twitchy clit, sinking right back inside. “Ah! Y-yes… there, please I’m…”

“I know your body, brat,” he whispers, knowing he’s showing that side he’s tried to hide so well, whispering in your ear as his rough fingers abuse that small lil clit. “You love this, don’t you? Clit is so needy. Cunt is so full. Feel me?”

He takes your hand, letting you feel that bulge as he wraps you tightly, bending down to sink right inside. “Yes, I feel you… I… Kuna!”

You shatter from one more roll of his fingertips on her, your body convulsing as he pushes you through it, as he whispers your name and loves it too much from his lips, those circles working over and over as your cunt twitches around his thick cock. Sukuna moans, feeling you milk him for all he’s worth, groaning out with you, your cunt squirting and gushing.

“There you go, who knows you?” He asks, voice hoarse.

He needs to hear it.

You’re weak when you answer – “You.”

He smiles against your neck, but it’s anything but a sweet one, it’s a possessive one, psychotic. “Who made you cum all over the fuckin’ locker room floor, has this messy cunt squirting all over, hmm?”

“You,” it spills easily from your lips as Sukuna pumps his cum inside you, burying himself deep as he floods your walls with his hot, thick release, coating every inch as he presses up on your clit, milking another orgasm from you.

“All me?”

You nod, but he can feel you shaking, feel your body and every bit of you weak against him as he presses further, making you take every little bit of his cum. “Too much, too much!”

“You can take it,” he whispers, laughing then softly. “You take it so well, like you were made for just this, hmm? Take me after every goddamn match, too.”

For a moment, you both just breathe and he hugs you too tightly, letting you come down as he pulses inside, even more cum flooding your needy hole, making you arch your ass, his fingers finally leaving your clit. He sighs, kissing up the side of your neck messy, up to your ear, as the two of you stand there.

There is so much he can’t put into words.

That he wants to kill your goddamn husband as much as he wants to make the dumb fuck worship you how you deserve, that he wants to be the one you love the most, that you’re much more than a ‘cocksleeve’ or ‘fucktoy’.

You’re everything and he’s terrified.

“Did you tell him you loved him,” Sukuna asks softly, you look back, eyes all dazed, he swipes drool from the corner of your mouth.

“No, you’re the first person I’ve ever said that to,” you admit, color dancing on your cheeks as he studies you – slowly pulling out, having you whimper at the loss, the filthy mess of his cum and your own slick begin to trickle down your thighs, the sight has him lost. Your thighs are shaking, head pressed against the lockers as he studies you.

“I’m the first person you’ve said it to?”

“Ever,” you admit softly, Sukuna moans at that, seeing just how rough he has been with you now, sinking to his knees behind you, his hands gripping your ass cheeks and spreading them wide.

Sukuna drags the hot, flat of his tongue against your cunt to lick a broad, possessive stripe from your clit all the way up to your other puckered hole, lapping up the creamy, white mess he just left inside you.

“K-Kuna!” you gasp at the sensation, your knees nearly buckling underneath if he didn’t hold you up in time. “You’re…”

He just hums against you, gathering more of his own cum and tasting it – salty and bitter to your sweetness. “Drinking us up. Us, baby. This is all us, every bit of this messy cunt.”

“Mhm,” he turns you now, so you look down at him, letting him lavish your abused cunt – the one that’s now had another man inside her. Fuck, he wanted to see it next time, he wants to see her stretch and know he can do better.

“Did he fill you this much?” Sukuna asks, looking under his long pink lashes, smirking as you tremble. “More?”

“He came alot,” you admit, he chuckles at that.

“Bet he fuckin’ did. Who wouldn’t?”

Sukuna will put more cum inside you – he’ll fill you so much Satoru Gojo is the last fucking thing you’ll think of. Yet you brush his hair back, crying out and arching, pressing your cunt more firmly against his mouth, Sukuna greedily swallows the squirt he gets from you with a hum against your pussy, swallowing his own creamy release right with you.

You’re screaming out, hands tugging hard at his hair – pulling at the roots to the point of sweet pain. “Come stay with me tonight, please? W-want you to…”

“You’re askin’ me to stay while I lick my cum out?” Sukuna smirks and chuckles, tongue licking the slick from our inner thigh. “Cute.”

“Answer me – you brat,” you tease, making him laugh again, thumbs brushing hints of blood against your skin.

“I wish I could,” he parts your lips, looking at his own mess, breathing against it and making you jerk. “I’ll be there tomorrow, okay? I promise I won’t leave you with his dumb ass alone too long.”

“Mmm…” your eyes flutter shut, rocking your hips rhythmically so that your slick drags all against his skin, his cock is already throbbing again. Then I’ll miss you tonight...”

“One night?” You nod and he moans, lavishing you up even more, eyeing how pretty you are when your head slams the lockers, when your thigh is thrown over his shoulder and he’s drinking every bit of his own cum from you.

As if Sukuna will let you forget him even for the night.

No, Sukuna needs you to remember him, even when Satoru Gojo – your ‘husband’ – is pathetically begging for you.

*****

You

You step out of the shower and wrap yourself in a towel, swiping some of the fog from the mirror that night. Satoru had to go to a business dinner and is just walking in as you step out, thighs pressed together just a bit, seeing the way his eyes drift across you achingly slow, like a physical touch.

One time, they were cruel.

Then, they were hungry.

Now, they’re devoted almost, the way he exhales ever so slowly and loosens his tie at the knot, kicking his pretty, expensive ass dress shoes off at the door.

Fuck if your sort of husband wasn’t sexy.

“Enjoy the match?” He asks, voice edged with that sarcasm, but you don’t answer back that way.

“I did have a good time…” your cheeks heat up a bit as he undoes his collar, looking devastatingly handsome in the darkness of the evening.

“Bet you did,” he says, laughing and shaking his head. “Does he just deepen those marks every time?”

“Maybe,” you murmur, touching your throat carefully – as if Satoru hadn’t left his own, but Sukuna had sucked each one, like he’d mark you harder, deeper. You barely manage to hold it together as you talk. “Did you have a good dinner?”

“Was boring as shit with a bunch of old geezers and horny ass, middle aged women that want to get fucked,” he admits, hands in his pockets, walking over toward you.

“Oh, any pretty ones?”

“Yeah, some are pretty – but can’t say I paid much attention,” he admits, surprising you, words you never thought you’d hear. “Kept thinking about this girl I’m married to, knowing she was fucking a dumb, pink haired boxer.”

“I think you two like each other,” he snorts, standing in front of you now, tilting your chin up.

“Heard you got Jennifer a position with your family, it was a bit of talk at the dinner in fact.”

“I did, if that's okay?” He frowns now at you, jaw tensing a bit. “Was she that bad of a secretary?”

“She was fine at that I guess,” he admits, shrugging a shoulder, toying with a damp strand of your hair. “Why though?”

“I felt bad.” Satoru laughs without humor, you clutch your towel tighter. “I do.”

“Why the fuck would you feel bad for her?”

“She clearly was in love with you,” he blinks now as if you’ve said something insane. “You didn't know?”

“She loved sucking my dick, loved getting expensive gifts, and loved cumming. Not me.”

“No, she loved you… you don’t act like that for no reason.”

“Yeah no one does,” Satoru says, but before you can open your lips to say that cannot be true – he halts you. “No, that's not some ‘oh poor me’ shit, I just know that isn't what she felt.

You frown now. “Are you so unlovable to everyone?”

The question hangs in the air – once you thought Satoru was the world, then Satoru crushed your world, your everything – but now it was so hard to understand. Satoru was flawed, he was selfish, he was cruel and utterly immature – but there was more to him than what brimmed on that surface, and you knew it.

“Have you met me yet?” He shakes his head, sighing now. “Yeah I am, and I already know it. There is a difference between loving my cock, or my fingers…” He smirks a bit. “My sad method of eating pussy.”

“Satoru…”

“Difference between that and loving me.”

“Well, it's not only your cock I like, in fact…”

“You like my cock?”

“Shut up,” you roll your eyes, holding the towel tightly – just for him to tug it even closer, pulling you near. “You’re not just that is all I mean. I am sure that there is a lot to you that…” you look away then.

“You hate me. Remember?”

You do.

Right?

You swallow now, letting him hold that towel for you instead, just that as the thin barrier between his body and yours, feeling his breath nearly against you, your heart hammering in your chest.

“I guess I forget a bit for a minute,” he trails his fingertips down your shoulder as you heart breaks. He almost looks boyish with his hair brushed back off his forehead, you can't help but step closer. “You couldn't have always been so terrible, there’s no way.”

He smiles and it’s a sad one. “I was born like that.”

“You're ridiculous, I remember getting to meet you as a kid,” he sighs, brows together. “You were defending this kid from getting bullied. And you said hi to me… you were sweet, if anything.”

“I wish I could remember that,” he says almost longingly, tugging you closer and leaning low, his lips far, far too close. “What am I allowed to do when you're mine, when your attention is just on me?”

“Allowed to do?” You whisper, as he steps back, fingers brushing across the terry of the towel. “I um… there are no rules or… there isn't a guidebook for this mess, Satoru. It's a mess.”

“It is,” he admits, sighing now, letting the towel fall and having his breath catch. “Fuck… you're so beautiful.”

Your answer is to tug him down and kiss him, letting him pull your body against his. Things still feel so tentative and new with him, with Sukuna you're declaring love, you're open.

Satoru it's scary.

You don't ever know what to say, what to feel, but it's there – cruel and merciless, the need for him to be so close. To be consumed as he praises you in ways you never thought he would, pressing your body so you feel his hard length underneath his slacks.

“Can I say that this time?” He asks, you swallow nervously, reflexively, looking right into those heart breaking eyes. “Can I say how I can’t even believe how beautiful you are?”

“If you mean it… I can’t believe that you…”

“Yeah, I fuckin’ mean that shit,” he whispers, lips pressing against yours over and over. “Fuck I can't stop thinking about it,” he shakes his head, cupping your face. “Was it the hate that made it feel so good? Was it just you?”

“I don’t know either…” You don’t have a clue what this is, when he’s lifting you and the towel is all gone, and he’s carrying you right to his bed – his bed – hovering over you, his lips drinking every cry. Your nails dig into his chest, making him moan, spreading your thighs and pressing his clothed cock on your slick, needy cunt.

“Is she already stretched out?” He murmurs softly, an insult – but you nod, he already knows Sukuna was inside you. “Does she need more cum inside?”

“Yes,” he blinks for a moment and you do too, heat dancing on your cheeks – you’re not sweet to Satoru, you can’t be. “Why are you still dressed? Like fucking me with your clothes on?”

“You’ve become so slutty, tsk,” he’s trembling a bit as he leans up, unbuttoning his shirt, showing you his hard chest and that abdomen, he’s not tattooed like Sukuna but there’s a little one on his ribs that your fingers brush, he sucks in a breath at the contact, his eyes locking on yours.

Just what did go through his head?

Was this some distraction until your inevitable end? Or did this mean something to him, did those kisses actually mean more than he could say? Why do you want it so goddamn bad – when Sukuna loves you, when that’s more than enough – why do you also have to want Satoru like this? Why do you feel this?

He’s yanking off his tie now, standing and undoing his belt, looking over every inch of you – you watch hungrily and eagerly as he tugs his pretty cock out, already leaking and dripping white, smacking his flat stomach and splattering against that white hair underneath his belly button.

“On your knees for me, sweetheart,” he’s never talked to you that way, you pause, on your elbows for a moment. “If you want, I’ll tie your pretty wrists, fuck you dumb, pump all that cum inside. Is that what you want?”

You don’t beg for it like you would with Sukuna, your answer is to get on your knees and turn, letting him press your wrists back, tying them as his breaths rush through him quicker. “Mnghh… I j-just…”

“You want that? Answer me,” he whispers as he is binding your wrists, tugging right at the knot. You’re even wetter when he tugs so hard that your wrists hurt, breasts rising and falling with your quick breaths, his lips against your ear. “Words.”

“Yes, okay? Yes…”

Did he need it from you, like you need it from him?

“Hah…” His laugh sends shivers across your spine, down the back of our neck. “Say you hate me.”

“I hate you,” there’s not enough there anymore, he tilts your chin and studies you, his other hand wrapping your throat, squeezing where Sukuna had earlier. “So much, too.”

You wish you hated Satoru – wouldn’t that make things better? Instead, you’re arching for his cock, begging for his touch, dying to be taken over.

Maybe you do hate him, for how fucking much you want it.

******

Satoru

“Yeah, that much?” He smiles just a bit, fingertips tracing down the curve of your spine, darting between to find your soaking wet cunt, moaning when he feels you.

Satoru positions you so your ass is arched up, his other hand comes up to tangle in your hair at the nape of your neck, still damp from the shower and coating his hands in the fragrant remnants of your conditioner, like silk against his fingers. He inhales it pathetically really, pressing your face deeper into the pillows.

“Seen you arch for him, you can f’me, hmm?” He taunts, as if he doesn’t want to beg, as if he’s not desperate to have any of you. “Lemme see how good you can do.”

He expects and argument, anything other than you arching, he can’t help but groan and lean back, parting your messy cunt all abused from Sukuna earlier, but if anything it makes him more fucking feral.

“Should fuck his cum out and fill you with mine, hmm?” He murmurs, laughing softly as he drags his fingertips up you. “Ready? Do I not need to touch you first?”

“Shut up and fuck me,” he laughs again – there she is, the mad girl who hates him, the one who makes this all easier to deal with.

Somewhat.

The inevitable fact that you’re going to fucking leave him – he doesn’t know how long it’ll take, but he doubts there’s a world he gets to stay. So he’ll be greedy, he’ll take every bit of you he knows he doesn’t deserve, stroking his already hard cock and biting down on his lower lip.

“Well I don’t see that mess, hmm?”

“He ate it out of me,” he pauses now, blinking just a bit.

Sukuna really was some fucking freak.

He never thought he’d be out freaked, but as it stands, that man is clearly filthy – though the thought of licking his own cum…

Fuck.

“Oh, how sweet of him – are we sharing you properly for now?” He taunts, leaning low and lapping a stripe up your slit, all clean and perfect from your shower. You whine out, he parts your folds to watch your clit twitch for him. “Mmm… almost like co parenting, but with a slutty lil wife instead.”

“Such a dick,” your voice is muffled by the fabric of the pillow you’re pressed against, he licks once more before spreading you wide and spitting right in your hole, the sight utterly filthy.

He remembers the first time he tasted you, on that counter when you let him lick your thigh, when Sukuna let him.

Let him.

Taste his wife.

Taste you – dangerously sweet — addictive like the sweets he loved when he was younger. Looking at the bubbly mess spilling when he shouldn't even be granted such a sight – yet here you were, spreading wide open for him.

“So eager for my cock, hmm?” You say nothing, just whining out again, the sound throaty and slutty.

He wants to say so much more, the dumbest shit that he should never think to utter out loud, barely holding it back. That when you look at him the way you do it ruins him in a way that is terrifyingly not only sexual.

His whole life women wanted him for his looks. His money, his power – and he let them think there was a chance, played their games and enjoyed their wet mouths, their cunts milking his cock. The way they were so devoted.

You didn't want that.

You hated him, yet here you were.

“Beggin' to be split open by my cock,” he loves how you feel. He loves how pretty your ass is, how your pussy is fluttering just for him.

Yet all he can say is filth, he knows even calling you beautiful hurts you.

He hurt you.

If only he could fuck away every memory of what he did, and fill you with what he wishes he could do.

Satoru leans over you now, cock gliding up and down your slit, the pink tip catching the gush that’s sliding out of your needy hole – watching you tremble as he presses your head down.

“Fuck you in my bed,” he whispers, losing any tentative fucking control he has – it’s all out of the goddamn window with you. “I'm going to fuck every thought from your pretty head, do you want that, sweetheart? To be fucked dumb?”

“Yes,” he groans then, he can’t take it – how raw and real every bit of you as, he pushes into your tiny cunt and groans, easing as his head pops in, getting sucked by those tacky lil walls, the ones quivering right around him, begging for more. “Fuck, why do you feel s’good? God, I hate you for it.”

“Mngh…” You say nothing this time, not with your wrists bound, just gushing when he pulls back again, running his tip up and down until you’re about to cum from just that – he can tell in every way you tense, every movement you make.

“Need me inside?”

“Jus’ f-fuck me… you’re… ah!”

“Ask nicely baby,” he whispers, chuckling as he tugs your hair back, and you glare at him. “For me inside you.”

“You ask nicely,” he sighs, laughing and shaking his head.

“I begged last time.”

“You should every time,” Satoru moans at that, kissing you again as he brings you to your knees and plunges his cock inside – in one long, deep stroke, filling you and stretching you right there, making you gasp out, your head falling back.

“God…” Satoru groans, kissing down your neck, god you fit him so perfect – surely you’re made for him, even if he’s ruined it all, even if some other dumb fuck got you – he’ll enjoy every moment he gets.

Inhaling you.

Kissing you.

Fucking you.

Satoru loses his mind inside you – god how perfect – thrusting his cock so deep, balls slapping your clit, pressing you down and moving in and out faster, hovering over you as you cry out, helpless and so small in comparison to Satoru’s huge, long body. “I'm going to fuck you so full of me you'll forget what his cum even feels like, huh? Forget his cock, forget him.”

“Psycho, y-you…” a choked out little whimper escapes your lips as he buries himself deep, pressing you into the mattress, his weight heavy as you gasp out. He’s prone over you, cock moving faster, breathing out your name against your ear.

“I wish I could get in your head and rip out every fucking memory,” he whispers now, shoving his cock fully now. He doesn't move or let you move, even as you wriggle and beg, letting you feel every inch of him. “All me, want it all me… fuck you know you should belong to me.”

Your answers are muffled curse words as one of his big hands slides from your hair down to your throat, his long fingers wrapping around it and tilting your chin up, leaving you helpless underneath him squeezing at your pulse points. He feels it fluttering right underneath his thumb as you look at him with dazed eyes.

“Tell me how you don’t, how you never will be mine,” he begs it, as he kisses you in between words, squeezing your throat and swallowing every pretty cry you give him, cock steadily pounding even deeper in you. “Mmm, how many times will I even get this, get you like this?”

“Satoru…”

“Yes, call me that – fuck,” he’s not the ‘in control, dominant’ Gojo, even with your wrists bound and your pussy being railed by him, even with the way Satoru absolutely ruins your cunt until you’re breathless.

He’s not in control even if you’re being choked.

It’s all you, just a little whisper of his name is enough to almost make him bust, insane thoughts of breeding your needy cunt filling his mind – when he never even wanted that shit. But wouldn’t you have to stay, then? Wouldn’t you be bound to him forever if he could?

“Put a baby in you first – hah,” he laughs softly, watching the look of fucked out pleasure turn to shock, the drool slipping down the corner of your mouth. “How would you leave me then?”

“You don’t w-want that…” He moans right with you, squeezing harder now, fucking your pretty body into the matress, his other hand snaking down, finding your clit.

“Arch up,” you eagerly do, letting him find that pressure he already knows you love, pretty patterns on a clit he knows was licked on, sucked on, touched – he wishes it turned him off.

He wishes it didn’t make him want to fuck you better.

“That’s it, wanna cum, hmm? All over my cock like the pretty lil slut you are,” your answer is a whine, bound and helpless, obeying as he has your clit dripping down to the sheets, the sounds of his breaths and the rhythmic slaps even louder.

“Yes… ah!” Satoru’s lost in you, as he buries his face against the back of your neck, inhaling you, feeling your bound arms pressed underneath him.

“Does it hurt?” He asks, a cruel tone – but you peek at him, lips parted – looking in a fucking daze. “Does it?”

“Yes but…” you sigh, swallowing and then whining as his fingertips continue their assault, as his cock keeps stretching you out. “I…”

“Love it?” You say nothing, nodding, but he leans up and un ties them quickly, rubbing your wrist in his hand, pressing it up over that pillow and pinning it with his free hand, eyeing the marks, making him feral. “Has he tied you?”

“No,” you surprise him just a bit, but he squeezes your wrist brutally, continuing to fuck your tiny cunt.

How is it so perfect?

How are you everything he’s ever wanted, but all he did was push you? Fucking make you leave, make you do anything and everything to leave him, to make you think he didn’t feel what he did.

Now he hates himself even more – a special type of hate, truly. Perhaps part of him always has – but he doesn’t hate himself enough not to fuck you, not to taste you, not to make you shatter as he drags his tip against your walls, feeling you shatter. You cry out his name as you fall apart, letting him watch as you do.

Satoru stays pressed inside you, body taking you over as you shake, cunt making a drooly mess all across his fingers, your lashes fluttering – tears spiking at the ends of them. “Move, move…”

“Mmm… in a minute,” he whispers, just staying there – pressed against your cervix, he knows you’re stuffed full – he knows you can feel him. “Too deep, baby?”

“Mhm,” you whisper, but you arch back more, curve of your ass against him, making him chuckle ever so softly, clenching your cunt right around his length. “Move, sh-shit…”

"Who is inside you right now?” He whispers, posessive and sick – aren’t you a sickness, everything fucking about you?

Don’t you ruin him by existing, especially when you look at him, and his thumb is on your fluttering pulse, holding your chin up. “Would you just… can you… move, fuck…”

“Who are you with now?" he asks, his hips finally starting to move. It's a slow, grinding rhythm, devastating in its intensity – each drag of his slick length against your walls feels like it's going to make him bust then and there, you’re almost impossible for him to handle, to take and act straight.

How he’s forming words is hard to even fathom.

"Who's inside you right now, making you squirt all over? Answer f’me… fuck, jus’ answer…"

"You," you choke out finally, tears spilling from your pretty, fucked out eyes. “You, god just…”

“Say it,” he whispers desperately, sweat dripping down your skin, slick as he moves even faster. “Don’t fuckin’ call me Gojo.”

There is a quiet moment and he pauses again, but you finally grip those sheets with your hands, still marked from his tie, shaking underneath him.

"Satoru."

"Good girl," he murmurs – condescending he’s sure – he’s sure he sounds like a fucking dick when all he wants to do is praise you truly.

“Choke me,” you whisper then, using a hand to press his harder, he falters.

He wishes you didn’t know you loved that.

Yet all he can do is listen, is give you everything.

“Choke you, hmm? Wasn’t I?”

“No, really fucking do it,” he loves you.

God he loves you.

Squeezing his hand so hard with your own – so much smaller than Satoru’s huge ones, than his five inch fucking fingers that swallow your throat, letting you put that pressure you want.

“Really… choke… m-me – ah!”

“Like this?” He asks softly, his fingers pressing down harder this time – more pressure like you ask for – just enough to restrict your airflow, to make your head dizzy, fuzzy, feeling your cunt just contract right around him. “Like that, baby? Choke every little thought away?”

“Mhm…”

“You’re almost sweet like this, hah,” he’s taunting, but the way you give in is fucking addictive, as he squeezes harder and earns your cunt spasming right around his cock, tip dragging just so. "You feel that?

His pace picks up as you feel too goddamn good, becoming more desperate, more needy for you – all of you. Your answer is some incoherent mumble as his cock makes filthy fucking noises in your slutty hole, balls slapping hard on your clit – so full of his own cum.

"Feel how I'm filling you up?" He asks, knowing you can’t answer.

He loves hearing your cries, ruining you like he’s never loved anything else – never has being inside being someone felt like this, the devotion with every movement absolutely tearing him apart.

How much of him would be left when he was done?

How much of you would be?

Could he fuck his cum so deep it replaces every goddamn bit of Sukuna?

He wants to.

“God I want it…”

“Want… mnh… wha- ah!”

You’re cumming when Satoru mumbles in your ear incoherently, words you don’t get to hear, ones you’re not meant to – “you to love me.”

*****

You

There is no hearing.

There is no thoughts while Satoru is pounding your messy cunt, one stretched open by a man you love, just to be filled by a man you wish you hate – no.

It's confusing – so fucking confusing, everything about Gojo choking you, about him stealing your breath as he strokes his cock deep – was it anything like Jennifer, like Chloe?

You shouldn’t be jealous, you shouldn’t care – you have Sukuna, and you know that shit is love, then why do you still want so badly for Satoru to want you, crave you, love you too? Why do you desire it all, the way he takes you over, the pain and the dizzying pleasure of every filthy stroke?

He's hurting your throat, your cunt is trying it’s best to take him – there's a desperate edge to his movements, a frantic need in the way he's fucking you, the way his breath hitches against your neck, his whisper of your name. He's not just taking you this time, he doesn’t just take and take – no, he's begging for more from you, breaking you piece by piece and putting you back together.

Satoru takes your breath away like Sukuna does.

But it’s cruel.

It’s mean.

Knowing this was all there – knowing he showed you how terrible he was instead, knowing for a month you watched him and waited, wanting to have this, fuck you didn’t even know this existed with Satoru.

“God, feel you milkin’ me… needy lil slut,” he eases his hand now, sighing as his cock slams deep – pressing his forehead against the back of your head, his movements becoming erratic, desperate, losing their rhythm. “Made to ruin me… fuck what you do – god you feel s’fuckin’ perfect…”

“Don’t say that,” you plead, sniffling as he holds your throat again, his grip tightening and loosening as if he can't decide whether to possess you or break you – as if he doesn’t know if he should go easy or gentle.

“Don’t say it? God, I wish I didn’t need to,” he laughs in that cruel way you used to hate – but when he’s inside you, you love it. “I want to ruin you – I want to be the one who breaks you, the one you think about when you're with him.”

“Satoru… don’t fucking… say…”

Sukuna said it too, he meant that shit.

But you never thought that Satoru…

Do you want this, two men desperately fucking the memory of each other away? Ruining your body and mind as they fight over you, as they desperately take and take from you.

What will be left when they’re done?

Even filled with cock you wonder it – wonder how long they’ll ever want a girl like you, wonder why they do, to the point you tense, and Satoru realizes it, pausing, pulling out and making you cry out.

He shoves your thighs up until they’re smushing your tits, and those thighs are trembling when his hands run over them.

“Do you wanna know what I really think, sweetheart?” Satoru asks, dangerous – his eyes dark, the ceiling fan whirling and brushing his long soft white hair over his brow. You swallow nervously.

“I can’t t-trust anything from you…” He exhales, cock dragging back up and down, up and down – fucking maddening. “Yes though… wanna… know…”

“I want to fuck you so hard you can't walk straight tomorrow,” he smirks, cupping your face. “I wanna fuck you so goddamn rough that every step you take reminds you of me – of my cock buried, of my cum dripping out of you.”

"You're so fucking confusing," you whisper, letting him sink back inside, your eyes rolling back in your skull as he leans over you with that heavy weight, folding you right in a mating press.

“Me, confusing?” He’s whimpering against your hair, your ear, fucking you so goddamn filthy, your blood rushing and mixing with his broken, husky voice.

The words next are what finally ruin you.

"Why do I want you this much? Why do I want to be the one who ruins you, that has you, that wants you? Why did I push you the fuck away – why? God, why do you fucking ruin my every waking moment…"

His hips slam forward harder, faster, folding you so in half he’s hard to take – you feel it then, your tears.

You're crying now.

It’s not the pain, the fullness, no – it’s the terrifying realization that this desperate, broken man might be just as dangerous to you as Sukuna is – that you might just be as in love with him. That all consuming love, the type you can’t feel for two.

But you know it, trapped in your throat as he leans up and his hands press so deep into your flesh, as it bruises those thighs.

You still love Satoru – no.

You didn’t love him before you knew him, you thought you did – now you have an all consuming love for two goddamn men.

Broken ones, like you.

Broken ones that you wish you could put back together, but you’re scared you’ll only rip them further apart. As he pauses and falters, stuttering hips, tilting his head and easing his movements.

“Look at you, crying for me,” he breathes out – almost cruelly – was it cruel?

Did you love it?

Do you love this?

“Is it because it feels too good, or because you hate how much you love it?” He makes you glare, teeth clenched together.

“Shut up and cum,” he laughs at that, you’re never mean – you’re sweet, but with Satoru he brings that shit out.

Sukuna brings it out too – the brattiness you never knew you could feel.

They both take so much from you, the bring so much out.

You fucking love them, don’t you? You love Sukuna who is good for you, and you love Satoru who is terrible for you – but you sure the fuck won’t admit it now, even as Gojo has you split apart on his cock and bent in half.

“It doesn't matter,” he whispers now, kissing you again. “You can just say you hate me, isn’t it easier?” You feel a tear slipping from the corner of your eye.

It’s easier.

Than admitting you love two men.

“I do hate you…” He kisses you deeper, moaning into your lips, as if he knows you don’t mean it.

I love you, I hate you, I despise you.

Satoru I hate and love what I became because of you.

Yet you say – I hate you.

"Say it again," he whispers. "Tell me those pretty lies about how fucking much you hate me."

"I hate you," you sob out those words – he knows what they are.

You do hate him – how can you not hate him for making you want this, for making you feel this twisted, destructive love when you're supposed to belong to someone else, someone who is devoted and loving?

How can you go from so unloved to feeling this?

“Want me to cum inside, hmm? The man you fuckin’ hate so much?” He asks now – Satoru and Sukuna give you this choice, in their own way.

They both do.

You want both of them.

You nod, and he laughs, pausing.

“Answer me.”

“Cum in me,” he moans then, falling apart and shattering – his white puffy ropes of cum replacing what was inside, shattering right with you and kissing you messy, desperate.

“Wanna put all my goddamn heirs inside,” he laughs, like he’s lost his fucking mind. “God I do – I wanna have so many babies, let them run our fucking families into the goddamn ground.”

“Ngh, psycho…” He’s just pumping now, slowing as he kisses you, as you try to catch a breath.

There was no breathing with him.

Just utter confusion when he cleans you after, when he brushes your still damp hair that has left his pillows wet, putting it up carefully as he stands behind you in that mirror.

Your hands grip the bathroom sink as you look up at him.

How long could you have them both?

Why could one not be enough, why are you greedy, terrible, split into pieces for men that hate each other – one who you should still hate – but the one who leans against you, staring at your fucked out reflection in the mirror. He leans low, and you feel his hard body against you, feel his hand delicately brushing your throat, smile on his lips.

“Guess I left my own marks,” he whispers, lips against your ear. “Do you like me tying you up? Choking you?”

“You’re just a freak,” you mumble, he laughs again.

“And you’re not? Was a good girl, a sweet, innocent one, now look at you,” he tilts your chin up, showing all those marks from both men. “Covered in us, full of us… answer me.”

“Yes I liked it,” you look into his blue eyes now, sighing. “It won’t be long though, right? You want the divorce so… this is what, some distraction?”

He pauses, faltering.

“Don’t answer…” You shake your head and go to turn, to be pinned to that sink by him, suffocating. “Gojo just…”

“Sleep in my bed,” you gasp, looking up at him now.

“What?”

“In my bed just…” He exhales and leans low, a hand on either side of you, until his pretty face is level. “Tonight.”

“Why?”

“I’m fucking asking you.”

“I…” you blink tears now. “When I saw her in your bed, nothing fucking hurt me more, Satoru. Nothing.”

He swallows now.

“I know Sukuna probably didn’t feel good to see, I know I’m not innocent or perfect – but I was trying, then. I tried so hard and you… you just rejected and…” You’re losing it, shaking as he holds you, even as you sob, even as you smack at him. “It hurt, it hurts… it still…”

“I know,” you feel his tears now. “I’ll give you the go as soon as you want, I swear to god just… please, a night. To hold you, even if I shouldn’t get it.”

“Gojo…”

“Please…”

“Satoru,” you finish, trying to pull it together, hardly able to think as you blink and look up at him – tears blurring your vision. “Why?”

“I don’t fucking know,” he admits, cupping your face. “I just want a night to hold you in my bed.”

“One,” you answer softly.

One.

One you say, as he pulls you close, and an arm wraps your waist, thumbs brushing up underneath your tits, running little circles, and you feel as comfy as you do with Sukuna. He texts you, and you pick it up, suddenly eaten by guilt – even if Sukuna knows, and he’s fine, this is so much.

It’s almost too much – being shared by two men, being torn apart.

Sukuna – I’ll be there in the morning, brat. You gonna make me breakfast or is the twink?

“He calls me that!?”

“Don’t read my texts,” you scowl back at him and he sighs, tugging you even tighter. “You called him a ‘dumb pink haired fuck’.”

“Well he is.”

You – I’ll make you breakfast, Kuna.

“I’ll make you breakfast Kuna – ow!” You’ve turned and shoved Satoru almost off the bed, and he can’t help but laugh.

And fuck if that doesn’t break you further, is cute ass laugh, the way he keeps going the more you smack at him, until you’re laughing too – despite yourself, despite everything, pausing. He holds your waist and swallows, looking into your eyes, a million words left unsaid between you – like a physical weight, you can feel it, all of it.

He lets out a breath, and you realize you’re straddling him, his hands darting across your waist.

“Is he coming for breakfast?” Satoru asks now, making you shift a bit, feeling him harden again impossibly.

“He is,” you say now. “Or we could go to his place?’

“No, he can come here,” Satoru mumbles, leaned up on his elbows – even in the night, his eyes are bright. “I wanna be all that’s in your fucking head.”

“Oh do you?” You murmur – so does Sukuna.

But you’re fucking torn.

“I wish I was, I wish I could fuck every memory away,” he brushes your panties to the side, moaning at the mess the men have made you as you cry out. “I could keep trying all goddamn night, but I know he’s buried fucking deep – so deep I can’t get him out.”

“You can’t,” you lean over him, even as he’s running his fingers across your sore cunt. “I love him.”

“I know you do,” he whispers, the energy between you both sickening as it is addictive.

Satoru – bright and pure – is the darkness.

Sukuna – dark and sadistic – is the brightness.

What are you?

“You can try all you want,” you taunt now, knowing you’re playing a dangerous game with him.

“Fuck you in your sleep?” He whispers, you blush and he laughs. “Oh… haven’t done that, sweet girl?”

“Sweet, thought you hate me,” he drags you down and you tug his lips open, curious then. “Open for me.”

“For you?” He smirks, but then he sees your eyes. “Oh… you’re trying to out freak me, hmm? Think it’s possible?”

“Open,” you whisper again, before spitting a little trail of saliva in Satoru’s eager tongue, his mouth wide and ready, he whines out as it hits, as he stays there underneath you, and you can’t help but feel powerful and that moment. “Swallow.”

Satoru’s adam’s apple bops as he obeys.

*****

“Ahem…” It’s early morning, and you’re utterly sore and aching when you hear it – your boyfriend Sukuna eyeing the mess you and Satoru are in his bed, swirling the house keys that he fucking made himself.

“Kuna!” You lean up now, grinning at him as he takes you in, smirking when he sees the choke marks and the little bruises on Satoru’s throat.

“Damn, what’d you do to the kid?”

“She’s a fucking psycho,” he mumbles, coughing as he wakes up, trying to tug you against him, burying his face in your neck. “Five more minutes.”

“Nah,” Sukuna climbs right in the bed and tugs you to him, smirking as he studies you. “Missed my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Morning, Kuna,” you whisper, kissing him sweetly, as his weight sinks the bed – feeling them both against you.

Satoru is hard behind you.

Sukuna is hard in front of you.

You’ve done a tiny bit with them together but not everything. Sukuna tugs down your top and moans at the sight of your puffy nipple, as Satoru’s kissing up your bare shoulder.

Trapped between a man you hate and a man you love.

Yet you can’t stop the way your ass pushes back, and your tits press up.

You want them both.

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