Fratboy! Sukuna who keeps you by his side at any parties he goes to.
He's usually the type to sit and just lean against the wall, drink in his hand while the music is bumping. He's known for having guys and girls alike by his side trying to get his attention all night. Who wouldn't want to be with him? Over six foot, known around the school, big as hell, covered in tattoos and piercings, everything about him just gave off sex appeal. The problem was he wanted you, you and no one else. It wasn't even a hidden fact either because at every frat party he was all up on you. Either standing behind you while you danced or holding you drink for you so you could talk with your friend. You made him your little personal errand boy.
Once he got with you, he never let you stray too far from him while at these parties. Dark heavy gaze followed wherever you went because he was obsessed with you. Now he lurked in the corner with his boys but kept you on his lap to talk to. You wanted to dance? That's fine, just make it in eyesight. You wanna go off with your friends? Cool, he'll be checking on y'all though because he knows how these parties can be. When it was just you two on the couch, he was clingy as fuck. Touching on your thighs, kissing your neck while telling you how good you looked, rubbing his thumb against your temple to soothe any relief or keep any chance of a migraine from the music and alcohol coming. Sukuna was obsessed with you.
the rare moments when sukuna is actually clingy and acts like he's yours>>
you hadn't even made it out of bed before sukuna's arms were wrapping around you, pulling you back down against your shared bed. his movements were sluggish, still tired from sleep, but awake enough to realize you were trying to leave.
he pulls you back against him, all four arms wrapped around you tight, holding your body flush against his. two of his hands gripped your waist, the others splaying out against your front, keeping you close against his chest.
"what are you doing..?"
he mutters lowly, his voice rough and gravely from just waking up. you feel your stomach flutter, even after hearing his voice every morning for years, you still weren’t used to it.
you bring your hands up, grabbing onto his forearms and turning your head to look back at him, which only made the fluttering in your stomach worsen tenfold.
his eyes were half-lidded, narrowed in on you; if you didn't know him any better, you would think he was glaring at you. his pink hair was ruffled, short spikes going in every direction. his lips were downturned in a small frown; clearly, he hadn't been happy at the thought of you leaving.
"getting up?"
you reply, an amused smile finding your face as you turn in his grasp. he didn't stop you, letting you turn until you were chest to chest with him.
sukuna grumbles at your words, frowning further, his arms tightening around you instinctively, as if preparing for you to try and get up out of his arms again.
"no."
is all he says, pulling you even closer. the second your cheek hit his collarbone, you wanted to melt against him. he was so warm and soft. the skin of his chest wasn't like his hands, having built up years of calluses; instead, it was smooth, almost like a baby's.
you almost wanted to give in, to just go back to sleep in sukuna's arms; his warmth was inviting and practically calling your name. before you could even make a complaint sukuna's voice continues.
"you don't need to 'get up'."
he murmurs, his fingers starting to trace little patterns on your back, effectively destroying any possible retort you had. at your silence, sukuna starts to relax again, slowly letting himself fall back asleep, but you weren't gonna give in that easily.
you slide your hand up his side, gripping his side and trying to push back, pulling your head up away from sukunas. sukuna only grumbles, arms tightening further around you, wrapped around you like a vice.
after a challenging battle of pushing away from sukuna’s grasp, you somehow manage to loosen his grip, arms still locked around you, but now in a loose hold.
slowly you start sliding down, shuffling out of his grasp, carefully throwing your legs over the edge of the mattress before standing.
you made sure every movement was silent. nothing got past sukuna so you had to put up your best shot.
after making sure the coast was clear and you got off scott free, you turn, ready to start the day, even if sukuna didn’t want to.
“where are you going…?”
a hand reaches forward—then another, both of his right hands lock around your arm, tugging you back against him, into your rightful spot next to him.
this time you sigh, reaching up to pat his back, trying to get him to do something.
“ryo…”
he only exhales through his nose, eyes closed, purposefully avoiding looking at you.
“ryo.. the sun is starting to rise. it’s time to-”
before you could finish your sentence, sukuna rolls, taking you with him, laying fully on top of you, almost crushing you with his sheer weight.
your face was smushed against his neck, body completely shadowed by sukuna’s. sukuna presses his face into your hair, clearly telling you he wasn’t letting you win this.
after a few moments of silence and contemplation, you huff, begrudgingly wrapping your arms around his waist, accepting your fate as sukuna’s favorite pillow.
sukuna shifts, bringing his top set of arms to slip under your head, his lower set of arm staying wrapped tight around you. he finally relaxes, seemingly pleased with your submission.
if this was what it took to stay by his side, you didn’t mind, you’d probably do anything for that stubborn pink haired man.
besides he was really warm, and he did smell good…
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guys it’s 3:45am. that’s funny. I am NOT proof reading, I cringe when I read my writing too soon.
Pairing: Aang x Top/Seme Male Reader x Sokka x Zuko
Summary: It's been years since you've seen any of the gaang, and the three male members have just been dying to get their hands on you.
Featuring: Oral/anal sex, straddling, biting, blood, hand job, cowgirl, no-prep, exhibitionism, infidelity, jealousy/possessiveness, blow job, creampie, prostate massaging, making out, temperature play, glowing body parts, minimal Sokka x Zuko at the end, and cum play.
WC: 4.7k
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The flicker that came from the flames presented in front of you did nothing short of create a beautiful scene. Their romantic glow caused an inconsistent cascade of light and shadow to mix in the cave you and the rest of the crew were in.
Of course, the master behind those flames was even more impressive himself. It had been a while since you had seen Zuko in person—hell, since you had seen any of the members from your teenage group. After everyone had decided to go their own way, there was never much time for you all to have a mutual meetup, as everybody was busy pursuing their own life.
Maybe it was a calling from a spirit that Aang needed all your guys' help on this mission. You did miss the dynamic and energy that came from being surrounded by the people closest to you; heaven knows you craved to be going back and forth with the guys or teasing the girls about something random.
In the midst of your zoning out, you suddenly heard an abrupt yet clear cough that came from your right.
"Hey, Y/n, you okay?" probed the same voice that previously cleared its throat, seeming to add a slight playfulness to its tone as if to not discomfort you. "You've been burning holes into Zuko’s torso for a good minute now."
Blinking your eyes a few times, you zoned back in to realize that your pupils had been laser focused on the fire lord's chest. Immediately ripping your eyes away from his body, you looked at the floor instead, deciphering whether it would be better to explain yourself to who you now realized was Sokka on your right or apologize to Zuko for the unintentional staring contest with his pecs.
You ultimately decided to do both while keeping your gaze on the ground, assuming that would save you the most humiliation from the expressions plastered on your comrades’ faces.
"My bad, I guess I was too in my head and didn't realize where I was looking," you mumbled timidly, like a kid who was forced to say sorry by their guardian. On your right you heard Toph let out a cheeky snicker while Katara started to tease.
"What's so enthralling about Zuko’s chest that had you zoning out over it, huh?" the waterbender taunted, wrapping a lazy arm around Aang’s shoulders. She put a portion of her weight on him while eyeing you, her grin stretching across her face at the realization she struck gold in something to mess with you about when you covered your face with shame, groaning in response.
"It was nothing. I'm telling you, I got busy thinking and didn't pay attention to where my eyes were," you stated disgruntledly, trying to be as casual about the conversation topic as possible in hopes that it would make it die out faster.
"Yeah, right," Toph mocked, now starting to join in on the ridiculing that should've ended 30 seconds ago, "I bet you were doing it on purpose and are just making the zoning out thing up to not get caught."
The metalbender got more comfortable in her sideways position on the floor before looking in your direction. For a blind woman, she sure did have a talent for knowing where to look to make eye contact.
"You can admit Zuko is pretty handsome," she kept on going, manipulating a small rock to head in the firebender’s direction and circle his upper body. You dragged your eyes over to look at him, wondering if he was hating the situation as much as you, only to be met with a rather flustered expression.
Although he wasn't saying anything or interacting with the discourse, Zuko was visibly red in the face. His shoulders were nearly steaming from how hot he was.
'He's probably just surprised at the direction the conversation went in,' you reasoned, not questioning his reaction much. 'It's nothing.'
Thinking about reactions, it had just dawned on you that neither of the other males in the room had said a single word since you apologized. Looking over at Sokka and Aang, you noticed that they seemed rather...tame with the whole theatrical.
They didn't seem overjoyed at the opportunity to dogpile on you about something silly like they usually would. Instead, their faces reflected that of hidden discontent.
Sokka was wearing a smile like usual, but the ends of his mouth shifted from time to time as if he were forcing himself to do it for appearances. Aang was barely reciprocating Katara’s physical affection, spiritlessly wrapping his arm around her waist while mundanely looking around the room.
Their reactions were inherently odd compared to how you last remembered them acting. However, again, it has been several years since everyone's gotten together like this. Perhaps they've just grown up and changed.
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Nighttime had officially fallen, and everyone had mutually decided it was time to rest. After a bit of rearranging had been done to better set up for sleeping, the crew had started to pull out their own bed linens and do whatever else was needed before lying down.
You had found yourself taking the space between Zuko and Sokka, dropping your blanket and slowly following it onto the ground as well. Sluggishly mumbling a goodnight to the rest of the group, you closed your eyes and instantly began dwindling into a limbo between wakefulness and sleep, your exhaustion overtaking you.
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Gradually evening out your breathing, you tried focusing on the black behind your eyelids and disconnecting from the rest of your surroundings. In the process of doing so, though, you heard a shuffling coming from in front of you.
‘Someone's just probably changing positions,’ you thought to yourself. ‘It's not like sleeping on a cave floor is the most ideal resting location.’
Just when you were about to return to your previous activity of zoning into nothingness, you heard something again, but this time it was coming near you. Someone was up, but that shouldn't bother you. There isn't any danger from anyone in the team. You're safe, and as far as you know nobody from the outside is coming in.
Still, you opened your eyes just to peek at who exactly it was and what they were doing at this hour of the night. You did not expect, however, to be met with Zuko hovering over you, his stature unwavering even as he came to realize you were, in fact, awake.
"Uhm, hey there, Zuko," you started, a slight concern present in your voice by the odd interaction. "Everything alright?" The buffer man did nothing but gaze down at you for a few more seconds.
It was when you were about to go in again with another question that he finally acted, kneeling down to meet you at face level and inching towards yours. Somewhat appalled by the action, you attempted to lean back and put some space between the two of you, but just as you were starting to, another hand made contact with your neck, halting your movement.
Slightly jumping at the unexpected intervention, you turned around to be met with Sokka already looking back at you, his loosened hair cascading over the front of his face, giving him a rather alluring appearance.
"Why are you up?" Zuko grilled in a low voice, though it came out more like a statement with how harsh his voice sounded. While asking, he leaned forward again, but this time his body language came off more territorial than usual. Your knees bumped together as he took a hold of your forearm, seeming as if ready to drag you away from the other man.
"The same reason you are," Sokka bit back, pulling out a smile as he gave Zuko an all-knowing look. You now wore a perplexed expression, completely unaware of whatever hidden message was being spelled out behind the pair’s short sentences to one another. What exactly was Zuko here to do?
You didn't have to wait much longer for that question to be answered, though, as Sokka pulled his arm back—your hair that was held by that same hand went with it. He forced the back of your head onto his collarbone, instantly diving into an open-mouth kiss. The tactician’s tongue played inside your mouth, making room for itself without prior notice.
Your eyes widened at the intrusion, too surprised to take any immediate action. Too caught up in the obscurity of the moment to fight back or do anything but make an alarmed noise.
"You—" Zuko spat out, catching himself before going off the handle over what he was seeing in front of him. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Everyone should've been asleep, and the two of you should be kissing. Yet, now that the situation has been changed, there's nothing he can do except modify his plan.
The flame king clenched his teeth, taking a breath before crawling towards you. Just because Sokka landed the first move didn't mean it was over for him. He slowly brought his hands to rest on your thighs, using them as leverage to put his weight as he neared your necks. The firebender began to leave soft kisses from your collarbone to your neck, finding home on one of your scent glands and beginning to suck. If Sokka got the first kiss, he was going to be the first to leave a mark on you.
You groaned into Sokka’s mouth at the sensation on your neck, subconsciously wrapping a hand around Zuko’s waist to keep him there. The man who was responsible for tonguing you seemed to take notice of this, a new rage filling him at the reciprocation in touch. How come Zuko got it and not him? Why were you even looking at his chest earlier? Did everything have to always be about him?
Deep in his thoughts, Sokka ripped his lips away from yours and dug into your neck instead. However, he wasn't as sweet with his markings as the fire lord. The inventor locked his canines into the skin in between your shoulder and neck, biting down without a second thought. An uncomfortable grunt came from your throat. Moving your irises down to look at the skin after feeling a trickling wet sensation on it, only to be met with your own blood flowing down and seeping into your clothes.
"W-what did you do?" you asked, a visible quiver in your voice at the fact that you already knew the answer. Sokka dragged his eyes back to your own, a small grin of satisfaction on his face. Lowering his head, he licked the open wound, not breaking eye contact with you as he lapped up the spilling red liquid. That seemed to have gotten your attention away from the other male.
While in a dazed state and still looking at the clear bite mark on your trapezius, you heard another shuffle come from across the cave. That's when reality hit you again: there were several other people in the lair that could wake up at any given moment and see the scenario unfolding.
Although you told yourself that scared you, and your stomach filled with anxiety at the thought, you somehow felt an additional mix of arousal at the idea too. That small drop of it must've been enough to cause your body to react, as you felt yourself growing.
Zuko seemed to notice it too, looking down to be met with a clear bulge sticking forward in your pants. Continuing to gaze at it, he moved one hand away from your thigh and cupped your clothed penis. A ragged breath tore through your lips at the feeling. This caused the fire lord to snap his head back up, looking at your pleased expression and uneven breathing that was mildly hitting his face.
A blush crept up his cheeks as he swallowed down the saliva that had unknowingly been building up in his mouth.
"Don't worry, I'll take care of it," he whispered, letting himself catch a small peck from your unguarded lips before lowering his head to be between your legs. Though the contact of lips merely lasted for a second, you could feel just how high his body temperature was. Had he not been the leader of the Fire Nation, you would have become concerned at just how hot he was.
You got distracted from his steamy kiss, however, when you heard the shuffling from before again, but this time it seemed more consistent. Hearing a groan, you turned your head to be met with Aang slowly waking up. Your heart started beating even harder, a mix of feelings seeping into your skin.
The moment you were experiencing had happened so fast that you hadn't even thought to yourself what you would do if another member woke up. You hadn't exactly wanted this, so should you ask for help? Yet again, you weren't exactly fully opposed either.
Not much time to think was given, though, before the airbender rubbed any sleepiness he had left over from his eyes and scanned the view in front of him. After shifting his now wide eyes back and forth and analyzing what was going on, his pupils ultimately landed on you. Staring back at him, you said nothing, but your expression was an amalgamation of panic, anxiety, and arousal.
A beat passed without anyone saying anything, but eventually the avatar slowly rose from his bed, walking more casually than you would've expected towards the scene. Squatting down in front of you, he cupped your face and leaned into a kiss. His kiss was less intense and aggressive than Sokka’s, but just as hungry. He let himself moan into the kiss, seemingly enjoying the small yet heated act of intimacy.
"Not gonna say hello or anything before crashing the party?" probed Sokka through heavy breaths. One of his hands was down his pants and the other up his shirt, twitching his right nipple. He had become so spellbound by the bite mark he left on you that he'd been lapping and sucking on it for minutes, getting off at just how dark and noticeable he could make that singular mark of his on your skin.
Aang spared him a glance before returning his attention back to you, not completely in the mood for talking.
"It's not like there's much to say. And anyways, I obviously showed up late, so I have some catching up to do." He simply stated, closing his eyes to continue the kiss while slowly reaching to hold one of your hands.
By this point you had stopped including rationality or morals into the mix. You were so drawn in by the kiss that it hadn't even hit you that out of all three men, Aang was very much taken. The man who was necking you like he needed you in order to breathe was in a relationship with a woman who was less than 20 feet away from you.
The thought itself punched your gut with guilt, but with the way he was kissing you the negative feeling slowly transitioned into one of excitement. You eagerly kissed back, letting the airbender intertwine your guys' hands together as you made out. It wasn't your responsibility anyway to deal with the way people went about their relationships.
A sharp inhale was forced into your lungs as you felt a warm sensation overtake your cock. Slightly opening your eyes, you lowered your vision to be met with Zuko and his mouth wrapped around your shaft. You could see the tip of it poke out through his cheek as he made his best attempt at taking you all in.
Utilizing your free hand, you moved it over to be on top of his head, caressing and petting his hair in a way of showing praise for his actions. The lord peered back up at you, his half-lidded eyes making their best attempt to stay on you as he swallowed, making more space in his throat for your dick to pierce through.
"Lean back for me, baby," heaved out the strategist behind you, freeing the hand latched to his nipple and making a feeble attempt at pushing your shoulder down to put you on your back. You obliged, momentarily removing your hand from Zuko’s head—who seemed rather saddened by the missing physical contact—to balance yourself as you lay on your back, stretching your legs out to give the one between them better access.
Aang followed you down the whole way, continuing to smooch you like a lovesick puppy. It really started to make you wonder just how devoted he was to Katara with how feverishly he was about a simple kiss.
When he leaned back to catch his breath, Sokka took that as an opportunity to use your mouth for himself. Putting a hand on your chest, he used his other to peel off any clothing item that was on his lower body. Once they were discarded, he crawled closer to you, putting a leg on either side of your neck and straddling your face.
Without even needing to speak, you knew what he wanted to do and instantly cooperated, moving one hand to get a firm hold on his thighs as you helped lower him onto your face. Now that your mouth was taken, the avatar resorted to kissing your free hand instead, slowly moving it over to his lips. The wet sensation of his tongue rolling around your middle and index fingers was felt directly as he sucked on them while palming himself through his pants.
You laid your tongue flat under Sokka’s ass, licking a long line from his balls to his brown hole. This seemed to appease him, evident by the strained exhale that left his lips. Deciding to stop teasing, you went for the real motive. Pointing your tongue, you wiggled it into his anus, letting a finger you had previously wet tease around the edges before ultimately sinking in too. The inventor arched his back at the intrusion, slapping a hand over his mouth to keep his voice down while you worked your way into his hole.
The change in pace seemed to have struck a nerve for the element bender more down south. Zuko retracted his lips away from your cock and impatiently started to part ways with his lower-body garments as well. Throwing them off to the side, he inched closer to your midbody, deciding to straddle your hips before he made a reach for your cock again.
By this point Aang had soaked your fingers in enough of his saliva that it dripped down the back of your hand and onto your wrist. He pulled back from it, a string still connecting to your middle finger before fully detaching.
Lowering his pants just enough to unsheathe his cock, he moved your hand over to position it in a way that your palm would immediately make contact with his base. As you felt around it, you wrapped your hand around his dick with a firm hold, going to toy with the tip and realizing it was already leaking pre-cum.
A groan left your mouth and reverberated into Sokka’s tight walls as you felt Zuko’s warm ones take in your cock. The sensation mildly came off as painful first due to the lack of prep he had done for himself, too eager to have you inside him to consider the faults of his rushed plan.
However, his walls were soooo warm. He absolutely lived up to the fire lord name with how heated and comfortable the muscles taking your penis in were. A small groan of discomfort left his mouth at the initial penetrating sensation, but eventually he started to move, not seeming to let the tenuous pain get in his way.
“Do you feel it, Y/n?” he called out, looking down at the visible bump in his stomach from your cock. He felt himself twitch just from the sight below him. Moving a hand over to lay it over the protruding skin, he instinctively tightened around you even more. “We’re one now, too.”
He placed his hands on your torso while swaying his hips, moving them in a circular motion as he made his best attempt to properly ride you. Although the lack of preparation made for an uncomfortable start, the more he grinded down on your dick, the more tolerable it became.
Just when he was about to start speeding up, the side of your cock hit a bundle of nerves that made him gasp, suddenly freezing at the spike of pleasure he felt. When he tried moving again, he realized it was a lot harder to hit that same spot with the way he was positioned.
He grounded his feet on the floor, taking a squatting position before beginning to bounce up and down on your dick. The change had absolutely helped, as he was more frequently able to make contact with the spot.
"U-ughhh, Y/n, Y/n, Y-Y/n, this feels really good," whined the man, getting cock-drunk the more stretched out his walls became from your erect piece of flesh. His eyes started to unfocus as he didn't know where to look while feeling this almost unbearable amount of pleasure.
With Zuko now having a repeated pace he was fucking himself on your cock with, it caused you to also start reacting to the building feeling in your abdomen. Pulling your finger out of Sokka’s anus, you wrapped your hand around his thigh, squeezing it as a method to mildly ground yourself.
Focusing instead on protruding your tongue as deep as you could inside him, you used that hand to push him even closer to your face.
While moving your tongue near the middle of his walls, he suddenly clenched around your tongue, letting out a small mewl and clawing at your thorax. Seeing this as a good sign, you repeated your assault on that specific angle, locking your arm around his thigh when he tried rising from your tongue or squirming away.
With your opposite hand, you had started to fully jerk Aang off, utilizing the pre he had been leaking as a form to more smoothly glide your hand on his cock. He had been able to better handle the sensation of pleasure than the other two men, focusing on keeping his breathing evened and as quiet as possible.
Yet, even with not being as loud as them, his pleasure could be visibly seen by his arrows actively glowing. He had also put a portion of his weight on one arm, slowly starting to feel himself collapse the closer he got to reaching his high. Even with his energies being down, though, he made an attempt at reciprocating your actions by repeatedly pushing his hips forward, humping your hand in return for the service.
"T-thank you f-for this, Y/n," he huffed out, trying to put together words without letting out an audible moan. With the hand not supporting his weight, he laid it on your forearm, wanting to have more physical contact with you even aside from the one already taking place.
"I-I," Zuko whimpered, taking in a few breaths before trying his sentence again, "I'm going to cum soon." Had you not been tongue-deep in Sokka’s ass, you would’ve realized that the firebender was heating up like crazy.
Aside from his walls sucking you in so warmly, his back—leading up to his shoulders—and thighs were releasing steam at a rapid pace. It’s surprising he hasn’t caught on fire by this point.
Sokka agreed with his message by nodding his head, opening his mouth to speak, but only an airy moan came out.
"Me too," he added, biting his lip the closer he got to his climax. He’d started grinding his hips back into your face, alternating from shifting away at your abuse towards his prostate. “I-I don’t think I can last much longer.”
Out of the three men fondling you, the air nomad was the only one that stayed more so quiet, seeming too caught up on your hand pumping him to care about the other two’s words. Yet, he too felt himself building up and getting ready to explode. Anyone could tell, really, if they simply looked at him. He was lighting up like a glow stick the closer he got to reaching his peak.
Five more bounces later and Zuko had started shaking, his orgasm overtaking him as he clenched and unclenched around your cock. He wasn’t able to actually say anything, but small strained noises left his lips while he aimlessly looked up at the ceiling of the cave.
His seed spilled all over your stomach, dripping down to nearly reach your belly button. The flame king’s breathing continued to waver as he felt his limbs collapsing, the overexertion from riding you taking a toll now that the high was coming to an end.
But it didn't come without the seeping of your own semen starting to fill him too. He softly gasped as he let himself hunch over, using your cum-splattered stomach for leverage while you let your load out inside him.
Sokka came next, the moans from you reaching your own peak being the last thing he needed to be thrown over the edge and climax as well. His thighs tightened around your head as he bit his hand to cheaply cover his moans. He tipped his cum on your pecs, some of it still dripping from his tip, painting little dots in the middle of your collarbone.
As Sokka and Zuko both were catching their breaths, stooped over and holding onto a part of your core for leverage, they timidly made eye contact. They were practically breathing on each other from how close in proximity they were.
The non-bender decided to make the move first, and he weakly reached out for the flamebender’s face, pulling him into a tired and messy kiss. Although mildly surprised, the other didn't pull back and soon started to kiss back. The two silently rejoiced in the kiss, seemingly content with what they got out of tonight.
Aang finished last, an extra few pumps from you being enough to finally join the rest of you in the euphoria that came with experiencing sexual relief.
With his mouth agape but no sound coming out of it, his arrows maintained an unwavering glow throughout his whole orgasm, and his eyes fully went bright for a few seconds before calming down. His cum dribbled onto your closed hand, gradually slipping downwards and seeping into the web space between your thumb and index finger.
When the avatar finally came to—with wobbly breaths and tears poking at the corners of his eyes—and saw the mess of himself in your now-relaxed fist, he used that as a weak opportunity for the two of you to "unite" as well.
Shakily moving the hand previously grabbing yours, he slid it over to your knuckles, extending his fingers to intertwine his hand with yours once again, letting his still-warm semen mix into both of your palms. That was his personal compromise for not getting to have a part of you inside him.
Everyone seemed to have been satisfied for tonight.
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The next day you had mysteriously risen with a fever. Nothing deadly, but definitely not well enough for you to move much for the day.
"You were just fine yesterday," stated Katara, organizing her bag before getting started on whatever needed to be done that day. "I just don't understand where this could have come from in such little time."
"Maybe those guys chasing us had something to do with it," guessed Toph, shrugging her shoulders while putting her hair up. It's true, there hadn't been that big of a time window in between yesterday, when you were doing just fine, and today, when you're practically bedridden.
But there definitely had been a lot of action, and none of the men in the room seemed to want to offer any explanation for your sudden decrease in health.
"I'm not too sure what happened, but someone should stay near Y/n while the rest of us go out," the waterbender sighed, seeming both concerned and irritated at your condition.
"The three of us can stay behind, and you two look for resources today," chimed Sokka, getting closer to you and putting a hand to your forehead, checking your body temperature. "There's a decent chance someone might locate us here, and if that happens we won't be able to move as efficiently with one of us being weaker."
Katara wanted to interject, but Zuko and Aang cut her short by immediately expressing their agreement with Sokka’s idea. She eventually gave up on proposing any other agenda and went on her way with Toph, leaving you alone with the three other men.
Nothing to worry about anyways; they were obviously going to take good care of you.
a bit nervous, considering i’ve never sent an ask here before…if you’re comfortable with it, can you do a popular gyaruo reader x an emo loser who tutors the reader? theyre good friends, they’ve been friends for years. and like, theyre studying in the emo’s bedroom, when he leaves to go to the bathroom and m/n somehow comes across the emo’s notes on how much he’s obsessed with the reader and wants to feminize and dumbify him and freak shit like that. then emo comes back and gets mad at him for snooping thru his shit, and then they have sex!!
but if you don’t want to do it, just ignore this ask lol!! no need to do it if you don’t want to!!
ఌ 𝐄𝐌𝐎
w.c › 6.7k
warnings › bottom male reader. OC.
kinks › lite feminization, manhandling, dumbification, degradation, dubcon
ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
“You and Matsuda-San are friends?”
That was how everyone, no matter their age, would react when you brought up Matsuda Kota casually in conversation. You were quite the persona since middle school. Going against the dress code to fit your gyaruo style. Kota, however, was quiet.
Some labeled him an ‘emo’ but he just had long black hair and mostly wore black clothing. At least that’s what he would say. His hair was so long that his bangs regularly covered his face.
You wore black clothing too—but they were often paired with bold pieces. You wore black eyeliner to make your eyes pop. It was only in university when you were able to go full out in being a gyaruo—a male version of a gyaru. Though you were on the more simple side of the aesthetic.
The full makeup and outfit took so much effort that you only did it on rare occasions. Or whenever you were in the mood to sit in front of a mirror for over an hour.
Your parents were lacking in the usual strictness that older Japanese people were known for. So you basically wild out—a stark contract to Kota whose parents were so overly strict it was concerning.
That’s probably why he spent most of his time over at your house. The two of you met in middle school. By pure accident.
You were sent to your homeroom teacher’s office for being caught with eyeliner. After a stern talking to and being shoved outside of the room with some wet wipes—you were too busy wiping your eyes to notice Kota standing in front of you.
It was only in middle school that you were taller than him. You bumped right into him, causing him to crash to the ground. His bento box spilling all over the floor.
“Woah! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.” You kneeled down and carelessly began scooping up the food with your bare hands, dumping them into the bento box. “Five second—”
“I’m not eating that.” Kota rudely interrupted you.
You blinked, finally glancing up to look at him. He had an ugly bowl cut and thick rimmed glasses that looked too big for his face.
“Pfft—!”
Your lips clamped shut as you quickly covered your mouth. Eyes wide while Kota’s narrowed.
“I don’t know why you’re laughing. You look ridiculous too.”
Kota huffed. He roughly grabbed his bento box from your hand and walked away. You stood up and looked to your left, seeing your reflection in the window.
He was right.
The makeup was all smudge—giving you perfect raccoon eyes. A laugh left your lips. It was honestly a look. You rushed after Kota and wrapped your arm around his neck. He grunted and tried to push you off but you used your height to rest your chin on his head.
“Since we both look ridiculous, we should hang out!”
Kota groaned. “What are you—?”
“My name is Togami (Name). But you can call me (Name), no one calls me Togami.”
“We just met, why—”
“Because it’s sooo boring. My name is so much better than Togami. Don’t you agree?”
“Well—”
“Anyway, what’s your name?”
“Matsuda Kota, why—”
“Can I call you Kota?”
“Are you going to keep interrupting me??” Kota yelled out, stopping you both in your tracks. You stared down at him before grinning slyly.
“Sorry, Kota-kun~ keep talking, keep talking. I think I really like you!”
“I didn’t give you permission—”
“Lunch’s almost over! Hurry, we don’t want to be late for class!”
“I said stop interrupting me!”
The rest was history. Which led to where you are now. University. You were able to dress up more and didn’t have to worry about getting in trouble with teachers for a little bit of eyeliner.
You and Kota decided to rent an apartment together. With your parents' help mostly. They were retired and had a decent amount of savings. Kota paid for everything else that your parents didn’t cover. You were just there to decorate the apartment.
Kota really didn’t care about that type of stuff. His bedroom was bare. Really bare. It looked exactly how it looked before you both moved in. The decoration he had in there was from you. Though he rarely allowed you in his room.
The apartment was covered in a lot of furry furniture. Black, brown, and gold. Leopard print… it was a mess but also somehow worked for the chaotic vibe you were going for. Your bedroom was the only real mess.
In any case, you and Kota lived together fairly well. Despite everyone being shocked that the two of you were even friends. You were outgoing and nice–Kota was quiet and a little bit rude. Everyone called you by your first name… no one but you could call Kota by his first name.
It actually got you into hot water once with Kota.
“You can call me (Name), I don’t mind!” You proudly said, grinning at your clubmate. You and Kota joined the photography club to kill some time. The club was meeting at a restaurant as a way to get to know everyone.
Everyone said their introduction. Kota’s was as bland as ever while you were practically bursting with excitement. You were sitting beside some guy–you couldn’t remember his name–and was telling him that he didn’t have to be formal with you.
A loud clink of glass hitting the table startled everyone even with the bustling sounds of people excitedly chatting. Eyes were all on Kota. His beer glass had a small crack on the bottom, the yellow beer slowly seeping free all over the table. He calmly grabbed some napkins and dabbed at the liquid.
“Uh, waiter!” The club leader waved someone down and pointed to the pointed glass.
You only watched Kota, blinking as he seemed to not even react to anything. Not when the waiter carefully took away the glass. Not as a few other clubmates wiped away the mess. Not when a new beer glass was placed in front of Kota.
Kota only grabbed a skewer of meat from the shared plate in the center of the table. He took a small bite, his gaze not even flickering over to you. It took a minute before everyone began to talk like normally, as if nothing happened.
As soon as the club leader had mentioned that everyone should start heading home–you were roughly grabbed by the arm and tugged to stand up. Everyone watched in silence as Kota grabbed your coat and backpack without a word.
He draped your coat around your body, buttoning it without allowing you to properly put it on. Your arms were restricted but he didn’t seem to care. Kota nodded his head at everyone, wrapping an arm around your waist and guided you outside.
“Kota. Kota, I can’t move my arms,” you tried to push your arms through the sleeves but Kota kept pulling you forward. His hand tightening his grip on the curve of your hip. “Kota!”
He hummed. “Does everyone need to call you by your first name?” His words suddenly stop you in your tracks. It was only now that he actually stopped as well. You both were far from the restaurant by now.
“I let everyone do that.” You muttered, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
“Maybe you shouldn’t.”
“Where… is this coming from?”
Kota looked you in the eye. There looked to be something there… the need to say something. Something that could possibly change things. But he only shook his head.
“Forget it.” He removed his hand from your waist, finally allowing you to properly wear your coat. You follow behind him as you slip the coat into place. His words swirled around in your head but you didn’t say anything.
You still allowed people to call you by your first name. At least the people you had already allowed to but for some reason, anyone new had to call you by your last name.
Nothing was said. It just happened.
But you couldn’t forget the one time Kota had overheard you introducing yourself to a new member of the photography club.
“Hi, I’m Togami (Name). You can call me Togami or Toga!” You said, smiling wide as you excitedly shook their hand. Your gaze flickered to Kota who was standing right beside you and his expression was pure smug.
A small smirk tugged on his lips. Big enough that even another member noticed and asked Kota what he was thinking about to smile like that.
Kota only hummed. “Nothing.”
That was really the only time Kota had ever been mean towards you. Or at least angry. Afterwards he didn’t use any force on you again. Which really made you wonder what upset him that badly.
But you never brought it up again.
“If you want at least a B, you’ll need to get an 80% on the final exam, Togami-San.”
You groaned, rubbing at your face. Your grades in college were decent. Could be better but decent. Your parents were just happy you weren’t flunking. The fact you even went to college surprised them and your entire family.
It wasn’t like you didn’t care but you didn’t go above and beyond like others. You studied like twice a week. Each time before an exam you studied a bit and somehow that allowed you to continuously get Bs and A minuses.
Good enough. Some would kill for that.
However your studying method was proving to be useless for one class. The one class where you had your first ever D.
Organic chemistry.
Now why are you taking organic chemistry?
Well because you’re dumb.
Dumb enough to not realize that you signed up for the wrong class until it was too late and you had to continue taking it. You were a literature major! Why would you ever need organic chemistry?
“It’s okay, (Name)-Chan~” Hinata, your classmate, gave you a wide grin. “Maybe you should do tutoring.”
“Tutoring?” Another one of your classmates chirped in, Genki. He was a fellow gyaruo who put more effort into everyday makeup in comparison to you. A true legend. “What (Name) needs is a miracle.”
Hinata rolled her eyes. “Don’t make it worse. You’ll stress him out. I know someone who took organic chemistry as a freshman and actually passed with a 99%!”
“99%? Woah,” Genki’s mouth dropped while you perked up at her claim. “How—? That professor is strict. How'd that kid pass?”
“Don’t know but he was even the teacher assistant last year. He’s good, really good. But he doesn’t just tutor anyone.” Hinata turned her gaze over to you. “You might have to really beg for it.”
You frowned, “beg…? Ah, it can’t be helped. I’m not failing that final exam!” There was no way you’d let this class ruin your semi perfect record of As and Bs. “Where can I find him?”
“He’s an engineering major! My friend said he’s currently a teacher assistant for engineering 101, class should be ending right now. Go stop him before he leaves!”
The thought of having to beg some stranger to hopefully pass your class was a little stressful. Technically your whole life was up to this one dude.
And judging by how Hinata had described him—he wasn’t exactly the helping type.
He already reminded you of Kota.
Ah, Kota.
A giddy smile pulled on your lips at the thought of him. It’s already been three years of living with him and you had begun to realize you had a crush on him. Nothing serious at the moment but it certainly was something.
You found yourself doing more things for him. Making him lunch or dinner. He wasn’t a breakfast person so you never forced that. Two days ago you even bought him a leather jacket that reminded you of him. Though you still haven’t given it to him yet.
You’ve given him things before. Especially not an expensive leather jacket. It was around ¥291,500. Nothing cheap at all. But it was real leather with fluffy fur around the collar.
Perfect for winter that was right around the corner.
Thinking about Kota, you began wondering what you should make him for dinner. You stood outside the classroom door just as students began to walk out.
“(Name).”
“Kota?” You blinked, looking over to see Kota standing right beside you. Your head tilted as you blinked. “You’re taking this class as a junior?”
Kota fixed the strap of his bag as he raised an eyebrow. “I’m the teaching assistant.”
“Ah!”
Well looks like luck was on your side after all.
You grinned and rushed to his side, grasping his arm with your hands. “Kotaaaa~”
Kota only hummed and looked down at you. The height difference wasn’t by much. Your head was the perfect height to rest on his shoulders—which you constantly took advantage of.
“Can you tutor me? In organic chemistry? I heard you passed the class and I need to get an 80% on the final exam to even pass the class. Please, please, please—”
“Sure.” He interrupted you.
You blinked.
That was really easy.
Well, getting him to tutor you was easy but he wasn’t an easy tutor at all.
“If you can’t even memorize this then don’t even bother showing up to take the exam.”
“Kotaaaa.”
“Try again.”
It had only been a week and you were pooped. Kota didn’t let up. Each day after dinner, you’d spend almost two hours sitting at the dining table as he tutored you. No breaks, no days off.
And yes you were certainly learning and retaining information… but you were also tired.
“67%,” he said, placing the mock final exam he made you take on the table after grading it. Despite his rough tone—you knew he was semi happy about your progress in just one week. “I’ll test you again next week.”
You sighed. Better than nothing. You used to get 20-30% on the exams. This was an improvement.
Kota cleaned up the dining table while you placed your head on the table. You were only going to close your eyes for a second. But soon you found yourself in bed. Hands tugging up your shirt.
“Kota?” You groggily whined, placing your hand over his. His hand was larger than yours. He stopped what he was doing and leaned away a bit.
“You’re awake?” He asked. You felt his hand slipping away but you quickly tightened your grip. With sluggish movements, you tugged his hand up, making him gently cup your face.
He didn’t stop you nor did he say anything. If you weren’t struggling to even stay awake, you would’ve noticed his thumb gently rubbing circles on your cheek.
“I got something for you.” You whispered.
“Like what? Is it a thanks for tutoring you?”
You weakly shook your head. “No. It’s…” your voice trailed off, eyes struggling to stay open. “It’s just for you. Because I like you. It’s underneath my bed.”
“Don’t fall asleep.” He gently tapped your cheek. “You still have makeup on.”
“I like you… didn’t you hear me?”
“Mhm.” Was all he said in response.
The rest of that moment was a blur. You remembered feeling makeup remover wipes on your face. Kota grabbed the box from underneath your bed but he didn’t open it in front of you. Your eyes were basically closed by then.
He whispered something and then you were fast asleep.
Another two weeks passed. It was uneventful. Kota continued tutoring you and you made significant progress. Your little puppy crush was beginning to grow by the minute. Especially now that you two were spending most nights together.
You didn’t have to ask about the jacket because not even a day later you saw him wearing it. It made you so giddy that you almost laughed right in front of Kota. Luckily you managed to hold it in.
Despite organic chemistry being the worst class you’ve ever taken—you certainly had to thank it for allowing you the opportunity to be near Kota for such long hours.
However there was something you began to notice.
Kota didn’t allow you in his bedroom.
At first you didn’t notice because well it’s not like he comes into yours. You both were close but still wanted the bedrooms to be your own personal space. But now that you two were studying together for a long period of time… you and Kota would sometimes study in your bedroom.
It was a mess, obviously, but Kota didn’t seem to mind.
But it was like his room was off limits before you could ever ask.
Nothing was wrong with that per se… at least at first. Until you finally realize it when Kota always keeps his door locked. The door was always closed and even locked sometimes.
That’s strange, right?
Was he hiding something?
What would someone like Kota have to hide? He’s such a normal guy at the end of the day. You were the one that had more to hide but your day was basically left wide open at all times. Even when you were changing.
Like right now.
You slipped on your boxers, yawning. The thought of looking for some pajamas felt like a hassle. Your body was tired and even struggling to stand up straight.
“Where did I put it…” you whispered mostly to yourself, rubbing your shirtless chest. It was certainly a sight to behold. Your makeup was only semi cleaned off, your eyeliner was being stubborn and your lips were stained from left over lipstick. It’s kind of why you never wear lipstick that often.
It always stained your lips.
Just like your clothes, your pajamas were also heavily influenced by gyaruo clothing. You even dabbled a bit in more feminine pajamas. Simply only because male pajamas were boring half the time.
You knelt down and grabbed your silk shirt. It was plain black but felt nice to sleep in. “Pants… where’s my pants?” You spun around, now facing the doorway when you finally noticed that you weren’t alone.
Kota was watching.
He looked like he had just finished taking a shower. Hair still damped while the towel laid around his neck. An old beaten up white t-shirt and black sweatpants. His bangs covered his right eye entirely.
You gulped. Your own semi nudity was the last thing on your mind. Just the fact of seeing Kota in clothes that didn’t cover his body entirely. Nothing baggy that hid his muscles. You were allowed to see everything.
Almost everything.
Your bottom lip caught between your teeth. You didn’t even realize just how bad you were ogling him. Though it seemed to be mutual when you glanced up at his face.
Kota was staring at you. Really staring at you. His gaze flickering from your thighs to your chest. You still hadn’t slipped the shirt on yet.
Feeling yourself heat up from his strong gaze, you slipped the silk shirt on. That finally broke the spell as Kota quickly looked away. He began quickly drying his hair.
You finally found your pants, right near your dirty hamper. They were actually shorts. A matching pair to the shirt. You stepped into them and it was basically the same length as your tight boxers. These were one of your more feminine pajamas.
“Well,” you spoke, blinking slightly as you glanced over at Kota. “Uhh,” your lips pursed together. Hands wringing together. “Can I ask you something, Kota?”
He hummed. His eyes still focusing on anything but you.
“Can we… maybe study in your room one day?”
That caught his attention. His eyes snapping over to you. “Why?”
You froze. This was probably one of the first times Kota ever pushed back against a request of yours. Usually you could just say one word and he’d do it without hesitation. Not even asking why you want to do a certain thing.
It wasn’t always like that—that behavior didn’t start until high school.
“Oh well…” your voice trailed off. There was technically no reason. Or really any good reason. “Uhm, I just… want to change the environment.”
“We can study at the library.”
“Kota.” A pout on your lips. “I don’t wanna. I like being at home.”
“Then we can study on the balcony.”
That did sound nice.
You sighed. “Then… if I pass with an 89% can I celebrate in your bedroom?”
Kota raised an eyebrow. His face was neutral but you could tell he was getting agitated. The slight twitch in his upper lip, the way his grip tightened on the towel. “89%? That’s high.”
“Yeah, so if I do that good, then you have to grant my wish.”
“Why do you want to do that? Be in my room so badly?”
You were nosy, that was certainly the main reason.
But instead of saying that…
You said, “because I want to be in your scent.”
Which, in hindsight, was one of the stupidest things you had ever said.
I want to be in your scent? What did that even mean?
It was one of the strangest things you’ve ever said. And you were known for being weird to Kota.
Oh well—you couldn’t dwell on it too much because to your shock, you did it.
“How??” Hinata and Genki stared at the final exam paper in shock. There, written in bright red ink, was the percentage 90. You had done better than you had even thought was possible.
You simply smirked. “I managed to get that tutor you told me about.” Was all you said before heading straight home.
Kota was home, luckily enough. You had bought some take out and a case of beer. A smug smile on your lips as you walked over to where he was sitting on the couch.
He closed his book as soon as he saw you. His gaze solely focused on you. Your cheeks felt a little hot from his gaze but you straightened your posture. You placed the food and drinks on the center table.
“I took the exam.” You reached into your bag, excitedly pulling the exam paper out. The paper was folded as you handed it over to him. He took it, you excitedly sat down beside him and inched close, wanting to see his exact expression once he saw your score.
Kota opened the paper and despite the fact his face didn’t move an inch, you could tell he was proud. “Amazing.” He simply said, placing the paper on the center table. “How do you want to celebrate?”
You pursed your lips, eyes looking to where Kota’s bedroom was located. There was nothing else that needed to be said. Kota got the hint immediately.
Kota’s bedroom was the exact same as you remembered. The last time you had seen it in its full glory was maybe a month after you both moved in. To say it had no personality was an understatement.
It didn’t feel lived in if it weren’t for his studying material all over his desk. You plopped down on his bed as he sat at his desk, placing the items you brought on the surface. He glanced over at you with an unamused expression.
“This is all you wanted to see?”
You eagerly nodded your head. “Well yes.”
“You’re weird.” He opened a bottle of beer with a bottle opener. “Enjoy my scent.”
Your cheeks felt hot.
Kota’s room really was uneventful. He didn’t even have a tv. You stuck to watching something on your phone. About an hour or two passed when Kota excused himself to the bathroom.
You only huffed and moved to rest more comfortably on the bed when you felt something poke your back. It felt like a notebook. Underneath his pillow was a small little notebook—a diary was your first thought.
Now, did you originally plan to snoop around Kota’s room? No, you did not.
But now that you had the opportunity to possibly read his diary were you going to miss it?
No.
While you might be able to understand Kota’s expressions after spending so many years with him—it was too tempting to be able to read about his thoughts.
Who was he talking about? Jealousy bubbled deep within you. Who was lucky enough to be the object of Kota’s affection? It wasn’t like he talked to many people that weren’t you.
You gasped as the diary was roughly ripped from your hands. It was there you came face to face with an overly pissed Kota. A first. The last time you ever saw Kota this angry, his face actually showing the full emotion, was back in middle school.
Your stomach began to twist into knots. The idea of angering Kota this much hadn’t even crushed your mind. Sure you were pushy sometimes but you never wanted to ever make him feel this way.
It was silent. Your mind raced a mile a minute. But nothing left your lips.
Kota let out a humorless laugh. Another first. He stared down at you. “Are you weirded out?”
“Huh?” A soft gasp left your lips. Your eyes flickering up to stare at him. He towered over you. You sat on your knees on the bed.
He waved the diary. “You read what was in this.” His voice sharp. “You’re weirded out, right? You want me to leave don’t you?”
“Why—? Why would I want that?” You quickly moved to stand up but Kota grabbed your shoulder and shoved you back down. It should’ve upset you that he put his hands on you but you felt your cock twitch in your pants.
“Stop acting dumb.” He carelessly tossed the diary behind him. His eyes never left you. The intensity in his eyes scared you but also made you incredibly horny. Who knew he could act like this? “You read it, you saw what I wanted to do. Degrade, feminize, and dumbify—you saw it, didn’t you? Don’t spare my feelings.”
You quickly shook your head. “I wouldn’t… I wouldn't judge what you… do in your free time.”
Kota froze. He raised an eyebrow before leaning further down. You leaned back until your back bumped into the wall, effectively caging you in.
Your heart was beating so fast you were sure he could hear it. You clamped your legs together. Why was this actually doing something for you?
“How did you get that 90% on the exam?” He finally spoke.
“Huh?”
“You. I want to degrade you.” His hands pressed on either side of the wall, gaze harsh. “I want to make you pretty, only to ruin you for anyone else. Who else would I ever want to see naked beneath me?”
“…huh…? Kota…?”
Kota sighed. “I’ll move out as soon as possible.” Was all he said as he began to pull away.
“Wait—!” You grabbed his shirt and tugged him back towards you. The force causing him to accidentally bump his nose against yours. “Ow,” a whine left your lips but you quickly pushed through the pain. “Why… why are you going to leave me?”
“Did you not understand a word that I said?” Kota responded, his tone exasperated.
“I did. I did and I don’t mind. I like you! Didn’t you know that? I told you…”
Kota tilted his head. His gaze focused solely on you. “You always tell me that you like me. Was I supposed to believe that one time was different?”
You frowned. “Well I did mean it differently. I meant that I like like you.”
“You like like me?”
“Mhm.”
Kota laughed. You were seeing a whole new side to him. “Do you like me enough to let me do whatever I want to you?” He asked, his voice deep. There were simple words but somehow they felt heavy in your chest. It didn’t feel like it was a simple easy thing to agree to.
He seemed mad but not that mad that you thought he would’ve been. It felt different. A scary different. But not scary enough that you didn’t nod your head in agreement to his words.
“I need to hear a yes.” He said.
“…Yes.” You whispered. “I really like you.”
For the first time ever, Kota’s lips pulled into a wide smirk.
Your cock twitched at the sight.
You would’ve never expected that Kota would be the kinky type. Honestly you ever really expected that he’d be into sex… or anyone really. He didn’t seem like the type. It’s why you didn’t expect anything to happen from your feelings.
But here you were, hands tied together above your head with Kota’s belt. Undressed—your boxers being the only clothes you were allowed left.
Kota didn’t say anything at first. He had silently tied your wrists together, manhandling you to rest on the bed. His hands gripped your skin. It felt harsh and rough but it didn’t scare you.
“Kota…” You whispered.
He was silently taking in your body. His hand slowly tracing up and down. As his hand reached your inner thigh—you let out a gasp. Your legs clamped together as your cheeks heat up and feel hot to the touch.
“Kota… are you mad?”
“No,” he answered. His hand squeezed your thigh before he reached his other hand and grasped your other leg. He easily parted your legs open, it happened so fast you didn’t even register it until your legs touched the bed.
Kota sighed. His gaze flickered up to look you in the eye. “I’m not going to do everything I ever wanted.” He said. That somehow disappointed you. “I don’t want to rush this… not now.”
“Rush?”
“(Name),” he whispered your name as if he was worshipping you like a God. So soft and tender though his eyes held a certain hunger that made your stomach clench. “I’ve always wanted you to cry on my cock—letting your makeup mess up your face.”
“Really?” You couldn’t help but grin. “Is that why whenever you saw me with my makeup a mess, you’d get quiet?”
Kota didn’t respond. He moved to sit between your legs. “When we moved in together, I thought I’d have to deal with you bringing in random people to have sex… or maybe even get a boyfriend. How lucky am I that you aren’t able to date anyone?”
“Hey, I was single on purpose!”
“Sure.”
You frowned but before you could say anything else Kota pushed your legs forward. A strained grunt left your lips. The stretch was a little unnatural—not a position you’ve ever done before.
“Since it’s our first time, I’ll be nice. Okay?”
“You’re a virgin?” You muttered, blinking slightly.
“Aren’t you?”
“Ah,” you quickly looked away, biting your bottom lip. “Not… exactly.”
It was silent.
Too silent.
“Kota…?”
The sound of fabric tearing caused you to cry out in shock. You looked over to see Kota focused solely on your legs. Your boxers were torn open, the cool air teasing your hole. Embarrassment shot through your body when you realized Kota would have a perfect view of a certain something in your ass.
Finally, your little secret was revealed.
“(Name)…” Kota chuckled, his voice deep. His index finger circled around your sensitive rim. Your body shook from the touch. “Is this a butt plug?”
So, it wasn’t as if you expected sex today. You had just wanted to be a little… adventurous today. After your exam you had actually come home first before going back out to buy the food and beer. Just for fun.
It was a small plug. Only stretched you a little bit to where you could feel it if you shifted just right. But other than that it didn’t feel like anything was inside you.
Really the only thing you expected tonight was using your dildo late at night as you imagined Kota fucking you instead. Luck was really on your side today.
“Did you wear this all day? Even when you took your exam?” Kota grasped the edge of the plug, slowly tugging it out. You gasped—tugging at the restraints around your wrists. “Did you masturbate like a pervert, hoping no one would notice you rocking in the chair, trying to focus on the exam while making sure the plug hit your prostate?”
With a simple shift, the tip of the plug pressed directly on your prostate. A loud moan left your throat. You wanted to tell him that he was wrong. That he was making stuff up. Degrading you.
But the continuous, slow rub against your prostate took over your thoughts. All you could focus on was gasping and moaning in response. Nothing else could escape your lips. Your cock twitched. It was still covered inside your tight boxers.
“Kota,” you mewled.
“Such a slut. Is that why you’re so flashy?” He asked, pressing down on your prostate. “You want everyone’s attention on you. Not just your looks but also from your sex appeal? So perverted, Togami (Name).”
You sniffled. Your wrists tried to break free from the belt but somehow it was wrapped tightly. You could only bring your hands down to try and cover your face from Kota’s intense stare.
“Am I not enough?” Kota moved up, his body now towering over you. His free hand grasped your wrists and tugged your arms to rest above your head once more. “Do you need everyone else’s attention? I’m not enough for you?”
You quickly shook your head. The words escaped you—only broken wet moans leaving your parted lips.
“Fine.” An almost pained laugh left Kota. “They can look…” he leaned down, his breath teasing your face. “But you’ll always be mine. Only I can see you, touch you, and ruin you, do you understand?”
Kota pulled back when you didn’t respond. His glare sharp as he roughly pulled the butt plug out. He tossed it behind himself. “Answer me with words.”
“Mhm, ngh,” you nodded your head. It was hard to speak, your throat was already dry. You haven’t even been fucked yet and you already felt tired. “Yes.”
“Good girl.”
You let out a shuddered moan. Your legs wrapping around Kota’s waist. It felt so sinful for you to be practically nude while Kota was still dressed. He was wearing a black sweater and black pants—his usual winter clothing.
“You’re perfect for me, (Name)… I don’t even need to prepare you.” Kota unbuttoned his pants. His gaze focused solely on you. “I won’t be nice. I’m going to fuck you and if you manage to cum, good. If not…” his voice trailed off.
The thought that he wasn’t even going to try and make sure you would come too. To just use you for his own pleasure… made your whole body shiver.
Shit, you were really learning new things about yourself.
Kota was never known for being particularly nice. Sure he did nice things for you but that never meant he wasn’t a little rude to you still. Even if you were his favorite person. He had no issue degrading you. And it was shocking to yourself that you didn’t mind it at all.
He didn’t fuck you nice and slow. He didn’t slowly ease inside you or anything like that. Your hole was still dripping from the lube and allowed for a semi easy entrance. Though his cock was bigger than your small butt plug.
Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. The stretch felt otherworldly. Kota grasped your face, pushing your head down into the pillow as he began thrusting in an easy rhythm.
The slap of skin filled the room. Your gasps and moans came out in rough staccato. Toes curling as you bite your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.
“K-Kota…” you cried out.
Kota pushed your head further into the pillow as his thrusts began to pick up speed. He was unforgiving—obviously chasing his own orgasm. True to his words he didn’t aim for your prostate nor did he touch your cock.
He was fucking you got his own pleasure.
“Mhm?” He grunted out. His thumb brushing against your lips, pushing them apart. “Does it feel good? Are you enjoying yourself?”
Each thrust sent a shock throughout your body. The sound of skin slapping, bed creaking from each thrust into your tight heat. It was sending you into a frenzy. You could’ve sworn that he was purposely avoiding your prostate. Just barely teasing it to cause a shiver in your body before ignoring it once more.
It was degrading. He was treating you like a toy.
You smiled slightly, eyes glancing up at Kota. He was a sight to behold. His eyes almost fully covered from his long bangs. He was sweating but still hadn’t made the effort to take off his sweater.
The jeans rubbed against your ass, chafing the skin. You’d certainly cry about it later but now it only served to make you moan. Every little thing he did that only served to please himself and not you… made your toes curl.
“Hey,” Kota cut in. “I asked if you’re enjoying it?” His voice deep and held an air of dominance.
A strained laugh left you, punched out in tandem with a particularly harsh thrust that almost sent you hitting the headboard. Your bottom lip was cut. A little bit of blood coated both lips and some on your teeth.
“Yeah,” you breathed out. Your eyes struggled to stay open, fingers curling to grip the pillow beneath you for a sense of purchase. “Love it so much.” An almost exasperated laugh left you.
Kota’s thrusts slowed down. His grip on your face almost loosened. He certainly didn’t expect such an answer from you. The willingness to accept his behavior as if it was a normal thing. A thing that you readily craved and enjoyed.
A perverted smirk pulled on his lips.
It was one of the widest smirks you’ve ever seen from him. With his eyes practically hidden behind his bangs—his smirk was the only thing you could use as a way to see what he was thinking. With that smile alone you knew he was happy.
Proud even.
This… was exactly what he wanted.
And how lucky was he that you wanted it just like him.
The last of his thrusts were almost cruel. He positioned his hips so his cock would tease your prostate. Barely a touch that was enough to even count as anything. You almost cried at the teasing—it was too much.
Your cock was weeping in your boxers. But you didn’t beg for Kota to start pleasuring you as well. No you enjoyed how he was fucking you. This was too fun. Better than anything you could’ve originally imagined.
Kota released his grip on your face, both hands reaching to grab your waist. He held your body still against the bed. Keeping you still as he delivered his last, harsh, heavy hitting thrusts into your ass. Each thrust earning a loud accompanying cry from you.
Hot wet cum released inside you. The fact that he didn’t even ask if he could only made you shivered in delight. A weak gasp left you. Kota spanked your ass as he pulled out. The cum slowly seeping out of your hole.
“You look beautiful like this.” Kota hummed, “next time I want to see you in full makeup when I fuck you.” He said. He grabbed your boxers, tugging them off when he stopped.
A soft humorless laugh left him.
“You actually came?”
Two fingers touched the lower half of your stomach. White cum leaking from your cock. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment. You didn’t expect that this would lead you to cumming in your boxers.
But here you were.
“Of course a slut like you would come untouched.” Kota leaned over you, gently freeing your wrists from the belt. He captured your lips into a hungry kiss—not allowing you to take any sense of control.
❝S(CREAM) ON THIS D!CK?!❞— ghostface! gojo x male reader
ꗃ Summary: Behind the facade of his academic triumph, influence, enigmatic aura and luxury, he never seemed to get what he really wants, not until you. His ocean-blue eyes seems to glimmer behind those black frames everytime you're on his sight, almost desperate, even beneath the mask that he carry ever so carelessly by night fall, he reeks of obsession and desire as blood drips on his fingertips, his gaze always lingered, it never faltered until that one phone call.
ⓘ Warnings: porn with plot, slight slow burn(?), college au! nerdjo, nerd reader, murder, blood and violence mentioned, pillow prince reader, light knife play (if you squint), obsessive and mean gojo, mocking, dumbification, masturbation, drooling, full nelson, belly bulge, creampie, bare back, overstimulation, cumflation, rimming, fingering, dick riding, choking, breeding, manhandling, size difference, blow job, deep throat, doggy-style, power imbalance, you get folded like a pretzel, not proofread, grammar because english is not my first language, this is a bit long.
University has been very difficult for you, hectic even, though not necessarily through academics, you've been a consistent honor student back in your home land, always joining some extra-curriculum activities, organizations and even climbing to the higher ranks, medals hanged heavily at your neck, gold and silver. though maybe it's just you're still adapting to your new environment.
It's not like your parents pressured you to be that way, to be an academic weapon, in fact they are very supportive, asking how your day went, they even ask to help you with your homework, and you merely gave them a look, like they've spilled your matcha latte in your chem textbooks, one might say that you're studious, intellectual, more likely a nerd in their lame and miniscule minds.
Well who could blame them? It's not like they pay your bills for you to care enough.
Glancing at your phone, 2:03 am, your message box was empty, it always had been empty, it's either your professor asking you for the class itinerary or the delivery guy who always asks for a tip every time you order chinese takeout on a friday night.
Surprisingly enough, you got a few friends to rely on even with your individualist syndrome, your message box might be empty but your curated ig account isn't, like your own little museum, you never showed your appearance but people assumed that you're quite attractive because of your style. They often see your friends, Yuji, Nobara and Megumi, they're sophomores while you're a junior, it is your third year in college, so just one year gap, but they insist on calling you their own old man.
You were a sophomore when you got into your dorm, you never had a roommate, well more likely because there's a rumored ghost haunting the hallways and bathrooms, It's not like you don't believe in ghosts, you actually like watching paranormal documentaries after the exams, but it's because you like the peaceful and quiet nights when you can study unbothered, doing the chores on your own accord, cooking meals with no one to share with.
It might seem lonely to be by yourself, but at least you got your cat, no?
You flinched, as you felt a furry and fluffy creature snuggled against your foot.
“Kiki. . are you hungry?”
You asked the white furball reaching for it, your hands slipping under its short arms, putting kiki on your lap and scratching its head and chin, it mewled softly leaning to your touch.
“I guess you are. . .”
-
You hated calculus, no, you loathed it.
Let's just say that mathematics wasn't your strong suit. . . You literally just crawled your way in to pass that subject, you even tried to avoid it but it was inevitable, you never had a blink of sleep when you tried to study Multivariable calculus, and all of that shit show, your eyes almost bulged out of your skull sockets and it's already the fourth can of coffee you've inhaled.
You'd rather memorize all parts of every single organ in your body and its functions than adding, subtracting two vectors.
-
Now at some cafe.
“[Name], are you still breathing. . ?” Nobara asked in half concern while putting on her lip-gloss.
“Doubt it! I mean just look at him he looks like he just went to his own funeral!!” Yuji grimaced as he tried to shake you for your soul to somehow wake up again.
“Well aren't you harsh?” Megumi sat down next to you, with a matcha latte on his hand, sliding it in front of you.
“I'm actually cooked.” You then gently grasp Yuji's hands gripping your shoulders and pulling it off you with a forlorn look on your face.
“Cooked? Babe, you're charred at this point, you can't just keep avoiding your core subject y'know? It's a general education requirement, what if you can't graduate because of it.” Nobara deadpanned, her words stung but it was facts.
“You're talking as if you didn't fail general mathematics in highschool, consecutively. ” You bantered as you felt a hand, fingers with acrylics on it, gripping your scalp, ouch.
“HOW DARE—?! I'm just concerned about you and that's what you're going to repay me?” Nobara spouted while she continues to torture you.
“How about you get a tutor, [Name]?” Yuji meekly suggested, while he takes a little sip of your matcha latte.
“[Name]'s pride is higher than the mount everest itself, y'know, he can't just stumble on faculty and inquire for a tutor that's just crazy—” Megumi scoffed, not until you actually consider it.
“Yuji. . .that's actually smart of you.” You gave your friend a small grin as you ruffled his soft pink locks.
“WAAH.. [Name] complimented me! It's a miracle—”
“Ugh. enough of this studying shit already, sem-break is actually coming how about we actually do something fun, and you! why don't you come with us just this once? You've done nothing but to rot inside of your dorm!” Nobara irked as she pulled her brown strands in distress, pointing at you.
“Why would I? Y'know I don't like socializing..” You grumbled leaning down to sip on your matcha latte.
“Oh for god's sake! It's Halloween you dumbass and we're having a party, I hope that calculus notebooks of yours haunt you.” Nobara rolled her eyes to sass, jested as she checked her phone if her costume is arriving on 29th.
You choked on your drink, and your friends just snickered at you. What a lovely friends you have.
-
His ocean-blue eyes glimmered behind the black frames he was wearing, he eyes then glanced to his wrist, pulling the white sleeves of his button up, revealing a silver rolex, 6:09 pm.
The library has always been empty and quiet, not because it was in the rules to be quiet, but because people rarely come there to study, most of them just borrow books and go on their merry way to go back to their dorms or home.
Gojo Satoru liked the vibes of this particular library mainly because the books here are more scholarly and detailed, just his type, the smell of coffee and old paper, vellichor is what would he call. And especially because this library is fully air-conditioned and it has free wifi if you kindly ask the elderly who supervised the whole library.
He does visit the university library to return books but it just doesn't just piqued his interest especially when it's packed of performative students who just lounge there for attention, for his attention.
Well wouldn't? He might be a studious monster but it doesn't mean that he's not packed under that model student facade.
There's been this trend around the universities all around the country that's actually quite concerning for him. Like what do you mean people wanted a tall, handsome and nerdy boyfriend who never felt a touch of a woman all of his life for? And why does it have to be him? Well too bad they can't approach him.
His name and candid pictures is all over the internet for some reason and they've immortalized him into their degenerate fantasies.
He turned off his phone before he even went to a crashout, he then rubbed his eyelids, pushing his glasses upwards. His gaze then reverted back on to his laptop, looking at the date, 10/15/25. . . Should I do it. . . ?
He then heard rustling just in front of him, a few meters away from him, fixing his posture, to see who it is.
“Oh. . It's him, again.”
He always sees you in the library but he never saw you on campus, he knows that you guys went to the same university because of the ID lace you've been wearing, and you're always studying.. just like him, though you never acknowledged him inside the library nor tried to bother him in any way, though your presence always has been comforting for him, making him feel that he wasn't alone in this big ass library.
Whenever you guys somehow make eye contact with each other, you never gave him a scowl nor a smile, just your eyes making contact with his own made a connection, a silent conversation, Gojo felt something inside of him that he never felt before, he tried to brush it off like anyone else. Ignoring the part that his ears are tinted with pink and felt the blood rush onto his cheeks, his eyebrows knitted.
“Is this what having a crush is like. . .? How troublesome.”
He then continues to finish his reports, looking all constipated.
-
Let's just say that Gojo Satoru is a well-known figure all around the university, he dominated the ranks, consecutively, and his family name is widely known for it's excellence and luxuries, though he's been gifted intellectually ever since he was in his pre-school, crushing anyone's dreams and passion in one snap, the true definition of talent beats hardwork, many people despised him for that but some admired him, well not that Gojo cares for that anyways.
It was autumn, the sea of every shade of orange and brown maple leaves flooded the streets followed by the cold breeze making them dance, with kids in their thick coats, bonnets and little mittens running down the road, chasing each other.
He was walking down the hallway, basking in sunlight, almost illuminating his tall figure, fixing his black spectacles, he was wearing a black trench coat that reached below his knees, black turtleneck, grey slacks, and there hanged his ID lace, the shadow of the trees swaying gently in the wind matched the atmosphere, noticing the horde of students in front of the bulletin board where the preliminary ranks are announced, he then observed some of the students expressions contorted into a shocked, broken and somehow relieve faces.
“They're blocking the way. . .” Gojo irked as his veins almost popped on his forehead, he doesn't have a choice but to just look at the bulletin board himself where he can look for his rank this time, some of the students noticed his presence with a shocked expression and decided to step away, giving him a path and everyone else did.
His eyes scanned for his name, finding it on top, Rank 1. Satoru Gojo, with 99.45%, and followed by Aoi Todo being on Rank 2. with 97.56%, he felt the burning stares almost poking through his back, he heard some of the murmurs being “He didn't get a hundred this time, huh?” “Are you serious? You couldn't even get passed 70% you imbecile?!”
Gojo merely deadpanned, though they're right, he's expecting it to be 99.87% or just flat 100% this semester, General biology really did do him dirty this time, he gripped the handle of his black prada satchel rather tightly.
He then noticed a presence beside him, eyes widening slightly, it was you, he felt his heart thump, you must've been here to look at your rank as well, considering at the side you're in you must be his junior, looking at the direction you're looking at he saw your rank.
Rank 1. [Name] [Last name], with 99.47%
“Holy shit.” Gojo's eyes widened once again, his eyes slightly shimmering staring back at your figure.
“Stupid calculus. . .—” You murmured, eyes almost burning the paper in front of you, you then hear the tall person beside you.
“Wanna be study buddies together?” Gojo said in the most monotonous way as possible, as if he didn't just dropped a bomb on you and everyone else who's present, shoving his hands deep inside his pockets, ignoring the warm sensation coiling into his core and the audience behind you two.
“Pardon . . ?” Your jaw agape, confused? puzzled? confuzzled? You don't even know if that's a word at this point.
-
“So. . . you're meant to tell me that we should tutor each other, because your weak point is Biology and my weak point is Calculus?” You said as you try to calm yourself down, by the fact that the most popular nerd in the campus just drags you to some expensive cafe downtown to talk about academics. were you in some sort of lucid dream?
“Wrong, I said that your strong suit is Biology and my strong suit Calculus and by that we should help each other to be on top” Gojo gave a smile while slicing his strawberry shortcake with a knife.
“You literally just twisted my words and still proved my point, and besides how can we do that? We're not in the same year nor curriculum.” You then stabbed the blueberry cheesecake in half with a fork and shoved it in your mouth. fuck this shit is so good.
“Cute, but I did consider that and thought about that already, do you really think that I'll just decide and not think of the possible effects? I'm hurt.” Gojo pouted, chewing on his lips like a bullied child, fiddling his fingers together.
“You're a child. . . I didn't expect you to be this way y'know? You just have this certain aura about you that would make people not approach you at all but here you are begging me to be your study mate.” You said bluntly then sipping on your chocolate milkshake.
“Is that what you really think of me? Well I guess that's fair, though I just didn't like people leeching off me for their own benefits, but I'm guessing that you knew that already knowing how smart you are, aren't you?” Gojo said steadily, gaze dripping to your form, memorizing the every curve of you.
“Of course? I'm sure it's not that hard to conclude, no? Unless you're that pathetic, Being smart is nothing without empathy after all, so yes I would love to be your tutor.” You finished with a satisfied expression, putting down your fork on the plate.
“You just know what to say every time, did you rehearse this by any chance?” Gojo's heart kept on beating loudly as if he was alive again, leaning his head down to hide his growing smile and the healthy pink tint on his cheeks, it's so nice to get to talk to someone once again, he thought to himself.
“ I'm afraid I did not. . .”
-
“Satoru. . . Did you hit your head on your way home? What do you mean you want to live in the dorms?!” Geto screamed at the man as if he killed somebody. . . again.
“What's the big deal? It's not like I'm going to move away forever, just for a while y'know, I need tutoring for biology and shit.” Gojo grumbled slipping off his shoes and throwing the socks in the laundry bucket.
“Well it's not like I'm opposed to it or something, it's just so sudden. . . and weirdly enough for tutoring purposes? You all of people needed tutoring? Are you still the Satoru Gojo that I knew? The honor stud—” Geto was silenced by a pillow colliding on his face. “HEY—?!”
“Oh, shut your trap, will you? I literally have to beg my way just to make him agree y'know?” Gojo complained, lying down on the soft mattress of the couch.
“Begging? You? Damn you are down bad aren't you? Is your new boy-toy that hot?” Geto flopped down the couch beside Gojo, as he turned on the television.
“He's not just hot y'know, he's incredibly smart and kind too . . .” Gojo buried his face on the pillow screaming into it.
“You got yourself a crush, huh. Young love these days. . .” Geto sighed, holding the remote directly at the big ass screen in front of them.
“Ugh. You're such a bummer, Suguru. . .” Gojo sat up, gaze staring at the screen, reading it silently.
Scream, 1996.
“Hey, Suguru. Wanna dress up as Ghostface again? I mean it's almost Halloween.” Gojo asked Geto beside him.
“Eh, Him again? I think I will change my costume this year's halloween y'know? Like Count Dracula or something.” Geto answered his friend making his way to the kitchen to get some snacks.
“Well suit yourself, I guess.”
-
“WHAT?!” all of your friends chorused, cramped inside your dormitory, it's not that cramped actually, you're just dramatic.
“Oh, will you guys shut up about it already?” You grimaced as you tried to focus on the math tutorial online to not embarrass yourself once your tutoring starts, clicking the play button on your laptop on top of your study desk, notebooks and textbooks scattered everywhere.
“What do you mean by shutting it already, huh?! You punk. The Gojo Satoru just asked you to be his tutor?! That's fucking insane.” Nobara pinched your cheeks and pulled it with a scary look at her face, you tried to pull it off only for her to pinched it even more causing you to winced. Her nails are weapons, I'm telling y'all.
“That's actually so lit, [Name]!! I mean you are the smartest student in the Junior department after all and he's the smartest in the senior department.” Yuji said with a proud look on his face because he's your friend and you're his friend.
“For once, I agree with Itadori.” Megumi said while playing with Kiki on top of your bed as the cat merely snuggled to Megumi's side.
“Hey! What's that supposed to mean, huh?!” Yuji abruptly stood up to throw a pillow at Megumi.
“ H-HEY NO PILLOW FIGHT— HEY THAT'S MY TROPHY YOU DUMBASS?! PUT IT DOWNNN—”
-
After class, you found yourself in the teacher's faculty room, the air-conditioning hitting your face gently, a cold shiver running down your spine, Professor Tsukaba personally called for you via message.
“Mr. [Last Name], thank you for the immediate attendance, I would like to inform you about the issues with your dormitory and I would like to congratulate you for ranking first.” Ms. Tsukaba merely spinned her chair with a small smile gracing her lips.
“Issues? I'm afraid, I don't know what you're talking about. . .though thank you Professor Tsukaba.” You pondered, but you don't exactly remember what you did wrong or what happened to have an issue.
“Oh, Do not worry dear, it's not that kind of issue. It's just that the University's (RA) noticed that you don't have a roommate just this week and we decided to settle it, luckily someone in the senior department is willing to be your roommate, since it's his first time in the dormitory.” She explained to you while finishing her lesson plan.
Your body stiffened at the moment that you actually forgot to breathe, a roommate?!
“Ah. . Is that so, I understand. Though can I please know who it is?” You meekly asked the lady.
“I'm afraid I cannot, I made a promise with that child, to not tell you who he is if you ever asked for it.” Ms. Tsukaba apologized with a sorry face.
“No, it's completely alright, Professor. When is he arriving?” You dismissed but asked again.
“Tomorrow night, Dear.” The lady answered your question before sipping her tea.
ALREADY?!
“ Thank you, Professor. I will take my leave now.” You plead your goodbye, as you bow to her.
“No need to be so formal with me, [Name]. I am not going to feed you math equations this time.” Ms. Tsukaba jested with a teasing tone.
“Ma'am, it's not funny at all. . .” You grimaced.
“Y'know I'm joking.”
You then made your way outside the faculty, the warm sun rays welcoming you through the glass window, the sunset after classes always had mesmerized you while you pondered.
“I guess I need to do a general cleaning, huh. How troublesome.”
-
You slipped the last book into your shelf, the books categorized as what kind of genre or type they are, you even changed the sheets of the unused bed beside you, cleaned the dust on the empty study table, changed the curtains, vacuumed and mopped the floor, you even scrubbed the bathroom clean, cleaning your medals and trophies you received since you're a freshman inside the glass cabinet, of course you have more than that but you left all of your highschool memorabilias and awards at your parent's home.
You flopped down to your bed, checking your phone for the time, 7:12 pm. Swiping up to see if your order has been shipped, it's just Halloween decorations after all, you're still thinking of what your costume is going to be, you did see that some of the dorm rooms had started to decorate their doors and little pathways.
It's still unreal to you that you're going to have a roommate now but you can't bend the rules after all, whoever your roommate's going to be you prayed that they're somewhat kind or chill, you messaged your little friend group about it and they absolutely went batshit about it.
You stood up to look at your appearance in the mirror, damn I look like shit. You then reached for your towel in the rack and got the clothes inside your closet, your roommate might be on their way now and you're looking like shit? No way.
You make your way inside the bathroom and shower.
-
Gojo kept on looking at his watch every damn 5 seconds while he drives with Geto beside him who's looking at him like he's gone mad.
“Will you please calm your ass down? You're not even late. You insisted on living in a dormitory now face the repercussions.” Geto said with a tired face, “If Shoko was here right now she'd be frying you.”
“I am calm! I'm just nervous because it's my first time y'know. . !” Gojo bantered as he parked near the university.
“Oh, don't bullshit me with that, Satoru. I know you too well.” Geto just watched his friend get his luggage inside the trunk in the mirror.
“Yeah, yeah Mr. Know-it-all. Bye for now, don't miss me too much, 'kay?” Gojo said with a smug smile while waving his goodbyes.
“Last time I checked you are the Mr. Know-it-all here, you nerdy hunk. Just don't die.” Geto said while waving back to his friend, starting the car once again.
Gojo went inside the dormitory building to see some of the students in their sleeping wear and some of them in casual, looking at him with a bamboozled expression, he looked for the room 436 with a luggage on his side, wearing a black chrome hearts hoodie with white sweatpants.
He eventually found it on the fourth floor, where the rooms are weirdly quiet, is it not occupied? Well I guess no neighbors then.
He stopped in front of the door, twisting the knob to know if it was locked, it's not. Walking himself inside the room, it was quite spacious, with two windows, two beds and two tables. How cute, it was really made for roommates, have you been living alone like this for months? Isn't that lonely. He also saw your glass cabinet full of trophies and certificates stacked together with your name on it, medals displayed. Yeah. You're his type. He bit his lips, smirking a little.
Gojo also noticed a bolster bed beside your bed with two small bowls, he then felt a creature snuggled beside his leg, a white ragdoll cat, with cerulean-blue eyes that could rival his, letting out a small mewl.
“Well aren't you cute? Besides the fact that you look just like me. . .”
Gojo then made his way to your side, where all your things are organized and located, you're so neat with your things, leaving his luggage by his bed, with a cat following him.
He noticed the small things that screamed too much of you, you're so cute. He also noticed the pictures you displayed, pink haired dude, black haired boy and a brunette girl, it must be your friends.
Gojo heard the knob twisting by the bathroom area, he perked at the familiar figure that emerged from it.
“Long time, no see. How have you've bee—” He then felt his breath hitching by the sight of you, clad in a loose white shirt and dark grey sweat shorts, and a white towel hanging in your neck, droplets of water dripped down your hair strands, also dripping down your thighs and smooth legs. Fuck.
“So it was you after all? I had a hunch but I didn't expect it to be true. . .” You then tried to dry your hair with your towel then you remembered that you have a hair blower in your drawer. “ I've been fine, make yourself at home, you can unpack your things sooner or later if you want, Kiki seems to like you.” You said walking past his frozen figure.
“Its name is Kiki? How adorable, considering that it looks a bit like me, no?” Gojo swallowed his saliva back, and jested, flopping down his bed.
“Now that you mentioned it, Kiki does look like a bit like you because of color, he's also a boy if you're wondering.” You then turn the blower on mild heat to dry your hair, putting the blower slightly higher making your shirt hitched a bit upwards revealing the side of your waist. he wanted to grab it so bad.
“Y-yeah. . . Thanks.” He then looked away covering the half of his face with his hand, fearing that his face might erupt into multiple shades of red. Why must you tease me this way.
-
It has been a week since Gojo moved in with you.
He already got his pc setup with triple monitors settled on his very own desk, his xbox, nintendo switch and even his vr set is already displayed, his multiple textbooks and books are already stacked and settled on the shelf, and not to mention his hyperfixation of Digimon is already there. Gojo's greed sickens me.
You also find him weird.
There are a few times when you catch him just blatantly staring at you then looking away, you can't just ignore the feeling of that eyes memorizing the every crevice of you, no? Watching the every fiber of your being, There are also these scenarios where he will almost touch you in any way but it's almost like he's restraining himself to do so, holding himself back, you can't seem to grasp it.
You will see him all day on his desk studying, well you aren't surprised by it in any way it's just that you notice him skipping his meals trying to memorize and solve things in his notebook, for a smart person he sure is dumb enough to neglect himself.
“Hey. . . Have you eaten? You've been at your desk since 7:06 am, it's already 4:30 pm.” You asked while flopping down to his bed, tilting your head to see his face.
“Aw, I didn't know that you care for me, [Name], for you to keep track of my time at that.” Gojo perked at your sudden appearance next to him, with a dainty smile gracing his lips.
To be fair, Gojo isn't used to being cared for, especially a stranger who only knew him and he knew for weeks, usually it's just Suguru and Shoko who checks up on him, because his parents weren't present when he turned five years old for business overseas and familial reasons, leaving him emotionally unavailable and mentally constipated, then he felt that warm sensation coiling inside of him once again everytime you're so close to him, the hairs on his neck starts to stand up.
“Why yes? This is my first time having a roommate y'know, I can't just have you neglecting yourself, not on my sight.” You bantered at him, putting your arms up to stretch your back.
“That's true or maybe you're just too kind for your own good, do you treat everyone like this, [Name]?” Gojo said with a honeyed tone at first then gritted his teeth by the end of it.
“Not really, I'm quite picky.” You stood up making your way to the mini kitchen you guys have, as you answered him frankly.
“Oh? I guess I'm a lucky one, then?” Gojo's irises glimmered at your form, with a small smile on his lips.
“I guess you are.” You craned your head to look at him and said.
“You aren't really making me win that easy, huh?” Gojo let out a breathy laugh, returning to his screen, hiding his growing smile once again.
“Y'know how I am. . . ” You merely finished grabbing the matcha powder in the cupboard.
-
Your eyes felt heavy, feeling the incoming yawn in your throat you stretched your back, arms up, you've been on your laptop for almost 8 hours now, finishing some of the powerpoint presentations and group reports, a few ones in microsoft excel and some quizzes in kahoot! that made your head want to explode, but you still have a week till the deadline, pushing the power off button the laptop can finally rest and so are you, standing up to make your way in the bathroom, giving your roommate glances who's also chained to his desk, with the textbooks he borrowed from you scattered around his desk, high quality headphones that hanged on his neck, the light of his monitors illuminating his figure, making a certain glow that made him look ethereal.
You washed your face, then brushed your teeth, coming out of the bathroom to see Kiki already waiting for you. Food. Yeah.
You immediately went into the kitchen cabinet to find Kiki's kibbles and his favorite wet food, mixing it together, then poured it into his food bowl.
Yawning once again, then flopping down to the soft cushions of your bed, you almost melted into your mattress, the sheets were cold because of the air-conditioning, and the fabric conditioner smelled so nice, but you can't seem to fall asleep, looking at your roommate who's still glued to his seat, you then rested your chin on your hand, staring at Gojo, his face, I mean who wouldn't especially when he's not wearing his glasses.
Gojo typed the last paragraph, precisely, though he already felt the exhaustion punching him right in the head, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses, until he felt someone staring at him, it was you, staring at him, making eye contact with you.
“Uhm, Do you need anything. . . ?” Gojo asked while fixing his glasses.
You perked up at the sudden question, your mind almost went blank, what should you say? Shit. Well you don't have anything to say anyway because you're just literally looking at his face. Though If I say that it'd be embarrassing, no it's humiliating.
“Well not really. . ? I was just wondering why a good-looking guy like you wears glasses, now that I mention this, I noticed these past few days that you get around just fine even without your glasses, I assumed that your eyes aren't that bad.” You rambled while scratching your cheek, but you just made yourself more humiliated.
Gojo's eyes widened yet softened at your words, no one really asked him that before.
“To be honest, you're quite right, though I already wear glasses since I was in the fourth grade and I am not used to it when I don't have it, I feel like I'm blind or something. . .thanks by the way.” He answered returning back to his monitors, attempting to hide his reddening cheeks.
“I see, well good night then.” You smiled at him as you settled down in your bed, nestled under your snoopy blanket.
“Good night.”
Gojo wasn't the type to lose his mind when it comes to deadlines and the mountain of reviewers that he needs to study on a random thursday night, he's usually so laid-back and composed when it comes to this to this stuff, because he always studies until it's breaking dawn, the sunrise always greeting him like an old friend.
But this time he's not so sure anymore, his skin didn't feel right on his bones, sweat slick on his back, unfocused and distracted, and it's all your fault, the every thought inside his head somehow is being interconnected with you.
Eventually he did get used to it, but it wasn't easy, he really likes it when you teach him, you're actually educating rather than making him feel dumb for not knowing or understanding it, and you're so patient with it too. The way you explained so intricately yet he can pick it up quickly is so important to him. and by that he decided that you're going to be his. No matter what.
He also decided that you're not just his flimsy crush anymore, something ignited inside of him that he can't somehow control, but he's not opposed to it either and then so this kind of occurrence only happens when you're not around.
Whenever he's in the shower he can't help but to get a boner when he remembers your fleeting touch on his broad shoulders, the way you ruffle his white locks whenever he gets the correct answer to your questions, the way your breathing tickles his ears when you gossip with him about your day or when you walked in the room only wearing an unbuttoned white button-up shirt that revealed your soft and smooth stomach with some muscle on it and a black boxer shorts that almost destroyed his last drop of sanity. Fuck he's so into you and you're too oblivious for you're own good.
He bit his lip, eyebrows knitted together, whimpering, pumping his dick up and down, slick covering his shaft, precum oozing out the slit, he imagined you blowing his dick and shooting it down your throat as you gagged on it, tears brimming.
Fuck. He can't wait to tutor you.
-
“Satoru. . . Will you get your ass here already? I need help with decorating the door over here.” You called for him, while holding the Happy Halloween cutouts and webs, you already displayed the jack-o'-lanterns and the whole skeleton sitting on the chair with a coffee mug in its hand, resembling what you're going to be in the future or something.
“Hey! Just because I gave you the permission to call me by my first name doesn't mean that you can abuse it.” Gojo grumbled coming out of the bathroom with his hair slick back from being wet, wearing a black compression shirt and grey joggers.
“Stop being a baby and stick this on the door. ” You rolled your eyes and said while reaching it to Gojo.
“But I'm your baby aren't I?” Gojo finds a way to twist your words against you once again and decides to tease you, leaning his face close to you, with a sly expression.
You smacked his shoulder in return.
“OUCH— Hey! That's not nice” Gojo cried, rubbing the spot that you've smacked, while pouting.
“Well, news flash, I don't intend to be nice.” You said, while walking inside the dorm leaving the weeping Gojo outside, unbeknownst to the reddening of your cheeks and neck.
“For a short-term roommates they sure act like a married couple.” Mai spoke while puffing out smoke in her cigarette, looking at the situation unfolding in front of them.
“This building has been inhabited with gay people or something.” Maki bantered while fixing her cap.
“You're talking as if you didn't just eye fucked Nobara back in the bar.” Mai jested, teasing her twin sister.
“H-HEY?! That's not true, Take that back! and will you stop smoking when I'm around? You've been hanging out with Leiri-senpai haven't you?!” Maki's eyes widened, face blooming into 50 shades of red, pointing to her devil-spawned twin sister.
“Nye nye nye, I can't hear youuu—” Mai said throwing the used cigarettes to the nearby trash can as Maki chased her down the stairs.
-
“Satoru, why's your face like that. . . ?” You noticed then asked in concern.
“What do you mean?” Gojo asked back in return, with a clueless expression.
“You look like you're about to kill someone with that look.” You deadpanned.
“Really? I apologize, I'm just not used to many people coming here to study or lounging, it's usually peaceful.” Gojo reasoned out, as his gaze never left the people packed in the central area of the library, he recognized those ID laces, his veins almost popped in his neck and forehead, knuckle turning white from his grip, when he catches one of them ogling at you.
Fucking. Sukuna Ryomen with his signature smirk. Asshole. He's definitely trying to piss him off. Yeah I'm going to kill that bastard if he even tries to touch you.
“Is that so? Well, don't mind them, I'm sure they meant no harm.” You replied gently.
“Yeah, I'm sure. . .” Gojo said lowly.
-
“Little red riding hood? Really. You're making me dress into some dumb and naive girl? I am quite offended.” You grimaced at Nobara who's dressed up into Clawdeen Wolf from monster high, reaching the costume to you.
“Not my fault that it's the one that you've got in the spinning wheel, be grateful that I'm going to do your make-up!” Nobara rolled her eyes once again, throwing the clothes to your face.
“I'm sure you'll look great, [Name]!!” Yuji tried to cheer you up who's dressed up as the Frankenstein from Hotel Transylvania.
“How come you guys got the good ones while I didn't?!” You complained while pointing fingers at your friends.
“Our fate is aligning with our wants, I guess.” Megumi said while adjusting the scissors in his fingers, dressed up as Edward Scissorhands.
“How unfair.” You sulked while putting on the costume in Nobara's bathroom, the costume consists of white tailored button-up with high collar, long sleeves with ruffles, dark red vest with gold buttons with a matching corset, burgundy trousers that end around the knees, white tights with a rose and vines design, chestnut colored lace-up knee high boots and a dark red cape with a hood and a ribbon, you slipped on the boots and it's just your size. How did Nobara know. . . ?
Anyways, you finished the laces that you need to tie and took your phone to message Gojo to tell him that if he's done dressing then he could go early, don't forget to feed Kiki and lock the door, then turn it off.
You walked out of the bathroom with a scowl, earning a squeal from Nobara who's been waiting for you, Yuji who's just clapping and Megumi who's sitting uncomfortable with his costume, he can't exactly function that well with a big ass diy scissors in his fingers.
“That's more like it you dumbass, now let's do your make-up!!” Nobara mischievously smiled and ran to her walk in closet to grab her make-up box.
You checked your phone to see Gojo's white heart reaction, and a little message that he's already on his way to the campus on the notifications, you smiled softly at the small endearment, he also told you that he's dressed up as Ghostface which actually intrigued you because you haven't watched Scream yet.
“Hey. What are you smiling at? Get your ass here before we get late.” Nobara grimaced, holding a foundation and make-up blender.
Well. You can't escape now, this is your first time joining a party in a public event, especially halloween, mostly you just rot on the couch and just play whatever halloween special movies you see in the recommendation in netflix, eat popcorn then call it a night.
“Yeah, yeah.” You sat on the chair in front of the vanity mirror while Nobara tries not to rip your face off.
“Hey, y'all the class gc just announced something.” Yuji scrolled to his phone.
“What did they say?” Megumi said while muching on some skittles.
“They said that some of the students from the university just crashed into the campus grounds, trick or treating, some of our schoolmates didn't like that and almost started chaos but the university deputy let it slide because it is a halloween party and anybody could join and announced some of the rules and precautions if somebody ever did cause a problem.” Yuji explained with his knitted eyebrows.
“The fuck? Just how shameless could they be to do that? Crashing into another university's party, for what? Couldn't they just do a party on their own campus?” Nobara irked with an angry expression that it almost scared you, while applying light eye shadow on your eyelids.
“I bet they have hidden motives, ain't no way they're just going on our campus to go trick or treating, don't they?” Megumi bantered.
“Yeah, they didn't do this on last year's halloween.” Yuji followed while fixing his red neck tie. Damn this costume is hot.
“Well enough of that, look at our little red riding hood! Isn't he so cute.” Nobara teased while applying the lip gloss on your lips as a finishing touch.
“Will you stop that? You're actually scaring me.” You grimace while Nobara just ignores you as she does a retouch on her face, looking at yourself in the mirror, you actually find it pleasant.
“Looking good, [Name]!!” Yuji complimented you while helping Megumi stand up, as he also agrees.
“Thank you, Yuji.” You smiled while fixing your hair beneath the hood.
“Y'all, let's get going it's almost 6pm.” Nobara reminded while getting her purse.
-
Walking down the streets, you noticed that the streetlights are finally waking, illuminating surroundings, the road is full of kids in their little costumes and jack-o'-lantern baskets filled with candies, it was boisterous yet fun.
What could go wrong, right?
When your little friend group finally reached the University's entrance, it was decorated with Halloween decorations, spooky.
You can hear people chattering inside some are even playing loud music. If you can recall the song, it was called the Goo Goo Muck.
“Looking rather dainty aren't you, Mr. [Last Name]?” Ms. Tsukaba approached you with a fruit punch on her hand and a small smile, dressed up as Unohana from Bleach. Holy shit.
“Professor?! You attend a gathering like this?” Your jaw slacked when you saw your well respected science professor at a Halloween party.
“Why yes? I conclude that this is your first time attending, because I always greet my students if I see them.” Ms. Tsukaba spoke in a well mannered way yet slightly teasing.
“You don't need to rub it in my face, Professor. . .” You sulked once again, while your friends are holding their laugh in their hands while Megumi suffers from holding his breath.
“Y'know I'm joking, dear.” She lamented while patting you in the shoulder.
-
You sat down on some bench while your friends left you to meet up with their other friends, you felt a little lonely but you remembered that you have a roommate, fishing for your phone inside your pockets, you immediately opened your message box to send a message to Gojo, asking where is he as you try to describe what part of campus you're at.
“What's a pretty little thing like you doing all alone over here?”
You flinched at the sudden voice, it was rough yet steady, you looked up to see a man, he has pink hair that was slicked back, burgundy irises that turns into red when light touches it, muscular body that dips down to his slender waist and he's dressed up as the Joker with markings tattooed on his face, and so you thought, he looks just like Yuji. Could it be?
“Do I know you. . . ?” You meekly asked, since you guys are in the secluded area where there's not many people around.
“Aw, sweetheart, don't be that way, I just wanna be friends with ya.” flopping down next to you, one arm on top of the backrest, fleeting touches right on your shoulder, legs slightly spreading, bumping with yours, head leading too close to your shoulder. “The name's Sukuna, darlin', can I know yours?” He said coyly, gaze boring into your figure.
“[Name]. . .” You answered, nervously sliding away from the seat, you sense the intentions of the man beside you, yes. He is fucking hot, you'll admit that, but you barely know him so—
“A fitting name for such a delicate thing, now why are you trying to back away from me?” Sukuna spoke, grinning at your answer, noticing the shifting of your body and the way you're fixing your cape, he finally saw an opening, your hips, he slithered his hand, fingertips almost touching it until, black figure swoop you into his arms.
“Do you not know to fuck off?”
Your eyes widened by the sudden action, cape swaying in the wind, knocking your hood off, you recognized that voice and it sounded pissed off, by instinct you engulf your arms around the man's neck, legs securing his waist.
Gojo lifted up his ghostface mask to the side of his head, he's not wearing his glasses this time, with a deep scowl in his face, gaze that sharp as knives, his irises are almost glowing at this point, you also noticed his jaw ticked, vein prominent on his neck, holding you by the waist by his bulging arms, you don't know what is it but those eyes can hold such storm, menacing and malevolent.
“Is that how you greet your old peers, Gojo? Oh and look I met your little bunny.” Sukuna merely whistled at the swift move, smiling even wider at the sight, teasing, pointing at you.
“Too bad I never considered you as one, you dumbfuck.” Gojo spouts, hands gripping you even tighter. You eyed him, you certainly haven't seen him this worked up and full out cursing someone out, then you whispered into his ear.
“Satoru. . . Let's just go.” Oh how he loves it when he hears his name rolled perfectly out of your lips, he almost purred right there. Patience Satoru. Patience.
“You better take care of that one, or he might disappear.” Sukuna spoke as he lit up the cigarette and put it in his mouth to puff out smoke, looking at two, retreating back to the party, with a growing smirk, leaning his head back. Fuck, that cute little thing is just my type.
While walking, Gojo still hasn't let go of you, and refuses to.
“So mind telling me who he is?” You asked curiously while playing with his hair.
“He's my highschool classmate, and he's a pain in the ass, especially to me.” Gojo pouted and grumbled, tucking his chin on your shoulder, cuddling you at this point.
“Based on his looks, he's a bully isn't he and he bullied you?” You said lean your head on his shoulder while patting his back like you're consoling a child.
“I think so? But I don't really consider it as that, he just loves pestering and messing with me to the point that we almost killed each other.” Gojo narrated while walking down the dimly lit road, damn you did try to run away from the crowd that hard that you really went this far.
“What a child. Do you think he's into me or something?” You absentmindedly said then he just squeezed you a bit tighter right after you said that, you then slap his arm. “Hey! that hurt.” looking at his expression, he's biting his lips with a scowl once again.
“Mhm. . . I think so, But! There's no way I'm letting that happen, I found you first.” Gojo grumbled then declared, making you cringe.
“Anyways, enough of that fucker, did you like my gift though?” Gojo's mood just changed in seconds, Is he bipolar or something? then he asked while tugging the hem of your costume.
“So it was you who bought this?! that's why it fits me so well, are my friends part of this? Oh for god's sake of course they are.” You pull his white locks in anger.
“OUCH—”
-
After the party, and multiple shot fruit punch did really punch you in the face considering that you have a fucking massive headache right now, they didn't tell you that the third batch of fruit punch was alcoholic, good thing that Yuji was there to inform you right after your second glass, now you're in Gojo's car, he said something about staying in his villa to stay for the night but you can't even decide or function properly because of the current state you're in, your head is pounding and your legs hurt, so you just agreed.
Waking up to someone moving you, in a bridal style, you rubbed your eyes to see properly, oh it was Satoru, he's finally wearing his glasses this time.
You noticed the surroundings, you were in some kind of estate, large gates and a pool.
“Satoru, Is this your house?” You asked groggily, leaning to him even more, your head's still pounding after all.
“Yes pretty, this is my home.” Gojo murmured softly into your ears, you only hummed in return. “It's beautiful.”
“Thank you, pretty.”
“Since when did you start calling me that?”
“Since now.”
Going inside, the breeze of the air-conditioning immediately invades your skin, as Gojo settles you down the couch, and it's the softest couch you've laid upon, he went upstairs then comes down with a stack of clothes in his hands.“Hey, you can use the bathroom by the way, wash your face, and change, I just need to take care of something.” Gojo reached the stack of his clothes to you then ruffled your hair. this side of you is so so cute.
“Mhmm. . . Thank you, take care.” You hummed in agreement once again and took the clothes, watching your roommate's form go outside the door.
You reach for your phone to check the time, 9:16 pm, you open to check your message box, pressing your friend group's gc, messaging them if they can go and check Kiki in the dorms, fortunately Yuji's still online and replied that he'll go. Nice.
Damn my legs are fucked up, you thought as you navigate your way in the bathroom in this big ass house you're at, changing into the clothes that you were given and tossing the costume set inside the laundry basket, and it's a bit big for you, well it was Gojo's clothes after all.
He gave you an oversized grey shirt and hello kitty pajamas, you then proceed to wash your face with whatever soap Gojo got in his bathroom, surprisingly he does use the stuff you were also using, coming out the bathroom room, the cold wind made you shiver, damn this place is so fucking cold.
You flop down the couch to observe the spacious place, the interior design was amazing, it fits Gojo's aesthetic just right. Now you remembered, you didn't ask where he was going, you immediately took your phone and messaged him but he didn't answer, how odd, he always answers immediately. Maybe he's busy. You turn it off.
Eventually you got bored since you're not sleepy anymore. Satoru wouldn't mind if you watched a movie on his large ass television, yes? Yeah he wouldn't. you reached for the remote, pressing the Netflix button.
Should you rewatch Halloween once again? Or maybe Friday the 13th?
And so you did both.
It's been two hours since you've been watching, and Gojo still hasn't answered your messages you even tried to call him though it seems like his phone is off and it's actually making you worried.
Then you flinched when you heard it ring, grabbing it to see Sato— wait, this isn't Satoru's contact number, it must've been a wrong press, you just ignored it until it ended, you felt yourself quite famished so you went to the pantry to find some snack, pretzels? Chips? Popcorn? Yeah.
You placed the popcorn bag inside the microwave until your phone rings once again. You finally answered it.
“Hello?” You asked, putting your hand in your hip.
“Hello. Who is this?” The man spoke rather confused, his voice is deep and gravelly, it almost sends shivers down your core.
“Erm. Who're you trying to reach?” You asked once, maybe this is some kind of prank because it's halloween, but wouldn't it be more fitting if it's in april? How peculiar.
“What number is this?” The man asked, and it almost irked you.
“Again, what number are you trying to reach? Mister whoever you are, I don't have time for some kind of prank—” You answered agitated. Then the man answers “I don't know.” You thought that you'll pop a vein first then those popcorn in the microwave.
“Well, I think you have the wrong number.” You replied, a finger almost hovering on the end button. “Do I?” The man behind the phone coyly said.
“Yeah, It happens. Take it easy.” Your eyes flickering to the microwave, you press the end button, hanging up and put it on top of the counter, reaching for the buttons of the microwave, then it rings again. Are you fucking kidding me?
Since you're petty, you answered it again. Hearing the man's voice once again.
“I'm sorry, I guess I dialed the wrong number.”
“So why'd you dial it again?” Your voice almost raising by being annoyed.
“To apologize.”
“You're forgiven, now leave me alone.” You scoffed.
“Wait, wait! Don't hang up on me.” The man almost sounded desperate.
“What now?” You asked, rolling your eyes.
“I wanna talk to you for a second.”
“Sorry to break it to you but I'm busy. And besides I'm sure there's thousand of numbers for you to prank or something.” You sassed to the complete stranger who has an incredibly hot fucking voice but he was disrupting your movie time while waiting for your roommate, you then hanged up.
You finally turned on the microwave and cook the popcorn, fucking finally, watching it spin around inside, once it's done, you opened it and poured it inside a porcelain bowl, you wondered why Gojo decided to live in dormitory when he lives like this.
Flopping down the couch, you reach for the remote, until you hear your phone rings once again. Oh it's the same number. How fun.
“Hello?” You deadpanned.
“Why don't you wanna talk to me?” The man desperately asked, almost sad.
“Hey, actually. Who is this? You're actually creeping me out.” You told him truthfully as you placed the bowl on the glass coffee table, lying down the couch now.
“You tell me your name and I'll tell you mine.”
“Are you serious? If you are, I don't think so.” You replied, you felt your headache coming up again, reaching out for the popcorn and munching it.
“What's that noise?” He asked.
“Popcorn.” You answered shortly.
“You're eating popcorn?”
“Obviously.” You stated, with knitted eyebrows.
“I only eat popcorn at the movies.” He ignored your immediate reply of stating the obvious and continued to yap.
“Well I am getting ready to watch a movie right now, if you care enough.” You answered while eating.
“Really? What movie?”
“Just some scary movies.” You blatantly said.
“You like scary movies?”
“Yeah, but mostly paranormal documentaries.” You answered truthfully, even though he's a complete stranger he seems chill, and so you think.
“What's your favorite scary movie?”
“I actually haven't thought of that.” You pondered.
“You have to have a favorite, what comes to your pretty little mind?” The man's honeyed voice just happened to hypnotize you or something.
“Erm, Halloween? Y'know the one with the guy in white mask that walks around and stalks babysitters?” You answered absentmindedly yet concise, thinking that if you answer him he will finally shut up.
“Yeah. . .”
“What's yours?” It's your turn to ask.
“Guess.”
“Erm. Nightmare on Elm Street?” You just think of a random halloween movie and said it.
“Is that the one where the guy had knives for fingers?”
“Yeah, I think his name is Freddy Krueger or something.” Your memory wasn't that vivid, it's mostly the functions of the excretory system you try to memorize, not the killers in some movies.
“Freddy, yeah, that's right, I liked that movie. It was scary.” The man merely agrees.
“Well, the first one was, but the rest sucked—” You finally remembered the rest of the movie.
“So, you got a boyfriend?” The man asked.
“Why? You wanna ask me out on a date? Seriously.” Your eyes widened by the sudden question but still remained composed even when this man is literally wasting your time.
“Maybe. Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Mmmm, no.” You denied, the audacity of this man is quite insane.
“You never told me your name.” The man asked.
“Why do you want to know my name, so badly?” You answered once again with your remaining patience, then it happens.
“'Cause I want to know who I'm looking at.”
What the fuck.
Your blood ran cold. The atmosphere suddenly changed, are you trembling? You don't know, you became wary.
“W-what did you just say?” You murmured, as you sat up looking at every direction, but he can still hear you.
“I want to know who I'm talking to.” The man continues to talk.
“That's not what you said.” You bantered, trying to hold yourself together, you need to call Satoru, or whoever it is who's online, you close the blinds, windows and the doors, but remembered that this wasn't your house, you aren't that familiar with it.
“What do you think I said? Hello?”
You turned quiet, trying to think. Fuck, you're so scared, you're actually trembling.
“Look, I think we should call it a night, yes?” You asked the man once again, your heart is beating so fast.
“Wait! I thought we're gonna go out together.”
“Uhm, no. I don't think so.” You tried to stay calm, pressing the end button.
“No! Don't hang up on me—”
You scrambled to your feet, it still hurts but you still went upstairs, finding your way to Satoru's room. Then it rings.
Fuck.
“Yes?” Your voice growing loud.
“I told you to not hang up on me.” The man's voice turned lowly, threateningly.
“What do you want from me. Leave me alone.” You spoke rather harsh.
“To talk.”
“Well, dial someone else, okay?” You said trembling.
“Listen. . . Just don't hang up on me and you'll be fine, understand?” His voice becoming more sinister.
“Is this some kind of joke?” You asked, you're terrified.
“More of a game, really, can you handle that?” He bantered.
“Listen, I'm two seconds away from calling the police—”
“Oh please, honey. They'd never make it in time. We're out in the middle of nowhere.”
Your stomach dropped because y'know to yourself that it was true, the police have always been late, your eyes felt hot, the hairs on your arms and legs started to stand up.
“What do you want from me?!” You screamed at your phone, tears almost brimming down your cheeks.
“To see what your insides look like.”
-
His ocean-blue irises almost dimmed, as blood dripped down his sharp knife, seeing his reflection of it.
There laid Sukuna's body, with multiple stabs in his stomach and head, his organs almost flooding out, gutted like a fish, gouged eye balls, and severed hand, the hand that touched you, there's splotches of blood everywhere, he spat into the dead man's corpse.
“Fuck around and find out, I guess.”
He adjusted his glasses to see you properly, in the monitor, oh how adorable you are, he was already inside the house, specifically the security room where every single angle of the house can be seen, he's watching your every move, he used Sukuna's phone and inserted your number to call you.
He watched you tremble, and cry, like a bunny lost in the woods waiting for the big bad wolf to devour him. Fuck he's hard, watching you go straight up into his bedroom, you just fell right into his trap.
Gojo then took off his bloodied black latex and settled it on top of the control counter, disinfecting the bloodied knife with alcohol, slipping his mask on, once again. Let's play.
It's been awhile since he put on his infamous mask, feeling the adrenaline rush into his system and this time he's more eager, more carnal.
Walking out the door, with feather like footsteps, he lived inside these walls almost half of his life, he already memorized the every corner of his home, even in complete darkness, how smart of you to turn off the lights but he's always two steps ahead of you.
-
You don't know what the fuck happened but it all happened in a flash, you heard the door being shut then a clink being the lock, then your heart pounding inside your ribs. You tried to escape but the knife in his hand just sealed your fate.
Now you're kneeling on the floor with your mouth being fucked, hard.
The masked man's cock has a thick vein that disappears below its head, arched against his sculpted stomach that dips down to his navel, trimmed white pubes. Fuck. Satoru?
You couldn't see properly because of the dark surroundings, hearing a clap, the lights suddenly turned on, revealing the masked man sitting at the chair, legs spreading, surprisingly enough, it's the same mask that your roommate was wearing, you trembled as the cold surface of the sharp knife pricked the skin of your neck, sliding down to your chest, but not enough to scar you.
You felt your eyes widened at the sudden realization, tears brimming, choking on it while the creamy precum drips on your tongue down to your tight throat, whimpering as hands gripped your hair to pushing it deeper, you drooled, eyes rolling back to your skull, feeling the tip of the knife pressing against your throat.
“Well, aren't you a smart boy? Finally figured it out, hm?” Gojo murmured, pushing his mask aside, revealing his face, his white and silky locks falling perfectly to his forehead, with his black frames looking down at you as you look up to him with those pleading eyes, mouth full of his dick. Fuuckk.
“Can't talk with your mouth full, huh? Too bad.” He said with smirking, slamming it down, repeatedly with his hips, hard, the crown of his bulbous tip abusing the end of your throat, he watches as drool and his hot cum pooling in your lips.
The mix of saliva and his semen frothed, coating his shaft with a creamy ring, dripping down your chin, choking on his thick load. You can only moan and breathe to your nose Fuck you felt your own dick getting hard. You wanna touch it so badly.
He then threw the knife at the floor.
“Swallow it, and don't waste a single drop.” He then pulled his cock out of your mouth, creating a thick white string, you tried to swallow it all.
“Toruu. . . you're so mean.” You groggily said, throat raw, cock drunk.
“Aww, baby. Too mean for you?” Gojo cooed while caressing your head, untangling your knotted strands, swooping you up into his lap, you felt his rock hard cock slipped past your hole with slick, eliciting a moan from you.
“We aren't finished yet, pretty.”
-
“Fuck. You look so fucking good with my clothes on, baby.” Gojo moaned, his glasses were still on which made your stomach flutter for some reason you don't understand, while his tongue was deep inside your raw and slick hole, licking the stripe of your ass, holding your shaking thighs with both of his hands in a vice grip, you trembled while you tried to muffle your sounds.
Inserting his fingers on, scissoring your gummy insides, back arching when he spotted your prostate, repeatedly poking it with his thick and long fingers, squelching, you tried to stop his hand but he barely budged, maintaining eye contact with yours.
“Nghh— Ngh—. . .Toru, pleaseee—” You choked a sob.
Gojo merely hummed, pushing his thick fingers in and out of your warm, tight hole, knuckle deep, making you throw your head back, writhing.
“Look at you clenching on my fingers like a cheap whore.” He leaned down into your ear.
You bucked your hips into his fingers on instinct. You've gone non verbal at this point, you couldn't even think straight anymore.
“Where did my smart boy go? Dick so good it melted your brain, is that it?” Gojo teased spoke lowly, coating his shaft with lube, still wet and slick from throat fucking you, he stared at your form laid bare below him, with shirt on, the moonlight shined down at you from the window, body so fuckable and lips so kissable, You're so perfect.
“What would your friends say if they saw you getting dicked down like this, hmm? The smartest student at the junior department getting bred by his senior? fuck, such a slut.”
Gojo snarled, as he leaned into your lips, slipping his pink tongue inside your mouth, sucking on your tongue, sloppily while he grips your neck, nose bumping together, he stared at you, with your blurry eyes from tears, you kept on drooling like a dumb boy you are.
“Oh. . You're really getting it tonight.” He said, taking off his glass and slipping it to you, he made you wear it.
“You look so good honey, my glasses fits you so well.” He purred, while lifting both your legs up to your head, knees bumping in your shoulders, holding it together, locked and tight, and in a snap before you could even react he slipped his thick cock inside making a loud squelch, a loud sultry moan escaped from your lips, guttural from your throat, it almost sent you to blackout, seeing stars, a single tear dripped down your cheek.
“NGHH—! too. . deeep—!!”
“Hmm? Too deep for you, bunny?” He angled his hips, tongue darting out his lips, focused, hitting the bundle of nerves inside dead on, lube and slick almost bubbling from the repeated thrusting, the sound of skin slapping making obscene delicious noises, squelching.
Pulling it out slooowly— then slamming it back in, fast and deep, his shaft now glistening from the slick and creamy sheen of cum, Gojo merely smirked, pressing the bulge forming in your soft tummy making you scream, seeing the dumb expression in your face, tongue lolling, drooling.
“Fwuuck! sooo— b-big— Nghh. . .”
The glasses in your face are now crooked from the impact, pinning you down the mattress, sweat and drool covered your face, your chest heaves.
Fuck you're so hot.
Plap! Plap! Plap!
Gojo kept on pounding you until he reached his orgasm, whimpering, shooting hot loads of cum in your creamy hole, thick white strings painted your insides, you can't feel your legs and back anymore, your neck was full of hickeys from Satoru's nipping and sucking. He's so fucking starved.
“Been wanting to fuck you for so long now, do you think you can just tease me and get away with it.” Gojo said while scooping some of his cum inside your hole with his fingers and shoving it in your mouth, you almost choke, you held on to his wrist while maintaining eye contact with me.
“Walking around our dorm half naked and you're expecting to keep my hands to myself?” Gojo knitted his eyebrows together, while he licks your stomach up to your chest, suckling to your perky nipples, you chewed on your swollen lips from kissing, Gojo's lips quirking into a sly smirk, his canines peaking out, while licking and pinching your nipples.
“Wondering if you can produce milk if I just suck it enough.” He said while he watches your face contorted into a blushingly mess.
“W-what kind nonsense are you trying to say now— Nghh—” You managed to let out almost mad, but not until Gojo rammed in his veiny cock in the snap of his hips like a warning, making you squeal.
“T'aww. . . Since when did you get to speak. Dumb boy.” He said dangerously, his irises glinted, sharp and calculated, mocking you, you whined.
“Dumb boys don't get to speak until he's told to, yes?” Gojo gave you a close eyed smile, menacingly, now manhandling you, bending you over as you tried to crouch on all fours but your legs and arms are too weak to even stand, so Gojo grabbed a nearby pillow and settled it on your chest and face.
“And dumb boys take what they can take.” Gojo trailed, admiring his view, fuck, the arch of your back just made him even more rock hard, it's pulsing at this point, from the vein, he held the of flesh of your hips, almost bruising it, then slammed his cock inside in a heartbeat, repeatedly, in and out, it filled you immediately.
Your moans are muffled by the pillow, eyes rolling at the back of your head, tears streaming down your cheeks, staining Satoru's glasses, as you hugged it tightly, you twitched, legs shaking, you felt him in your tummy, the bulbous tip almost poking out below your bellybutton.
“Fuuck—! If I only knew that you'd be this breedable then I would've fucked you in that library in the first place.” Gojo whined, catching his breath, kneading the globes of your ass, watching your hole clench, winking at him, then your mind went blank.
Your back is killing you, and your legs feel like they're going to snap off if you even try to stand and walk. Curse Satoru and his stupid breeding kink, who would've thought that the model student of the campus is such a kinky motherfucker.
-
You don't wanna think anymore, you want to just pass out at this point, I mean who watches scary movies while having an intercourse?! Just what kind of mind does this sex machine have? you missed Kiki.
Now you're riding Gojo's dick in the living room where you neglected the bowl of popcorn, when Gojo decided to fuck with you, rather literally, while watching Scream, 1996. Now that you realized it, the scenarios in that particular movie just mirrored the conversation you guys had in that phone call which genuinely concerned you, and this is your first time watching the movie.
You thought as the tip of his big dick pressed against your already abused prostate, you choked a delicious moan, while the man thrusts his hips, piercing his thick shaft inside you, skin slapping.
“NGH—! T-toruuu—”
“Tired already?” Gojo teased you, asking as if he didn't destroyed you in bed, while caressing your sides, giving your shoulders kisses, you felt the vein in your forehead irked. The audacity of this fucker.
You pull yourself up then slam it back down, catching Gojo off guard, eliciting a moan from him, and a loud squelch. Take that you bitch. Hmph.
“Fuck, baby since when did you learn that, hmm?” Gojo's irises glinted and asked lowly, slithering his bulging arms beneath your knees, lifting it up to your shoulder, legs almost touching your pretty little head.
Gojo then stood up, your back pressed against his hard, toned abs and soft pillowy pectorals, his warm breath tickling your ear, placing sloppy kisses on your neck.
Pulling his thick cock out, leaving his bulbous tip in your rim, then pounding it deep inside of you in an instant, creating the most delicious sound. It almost knocked the air out of you.
“Baby. . . You should've known better to not rile me up.” He whispered into your ear.
“Fuuuck— just look how deep I am inside of you.”
He pressed down the bulge below your bellybutton, you threw your head back to his broad shoulder, gripping hard on his bicep, whimpering and moaning, twitching and shaking.
He kept on fucking you, in long and deep strokes, pushing it deeper with every single thrust, shaping your insides into his size.
He's so fucking big, and your hole is so used and raw, you almost feel bloated from the amount of cum he pounded inside of you, thick spurts of hot creamy sheen of cum just never ends. Is he that pent up?
He keep murmuring in your ears that if he knocked you up hard enough, that'll make you pregnant, full of his kids.
He kept on kissing the every part of your being, your neck, shoulders, jaw and your temple, as if it was enough to compensate with the damages that he made.
Once you recover you'll definitely beat the shit out of him.
ꗃ Author's note: Haii y'all!! Belated Happy Halloween!! Tysm for all of the support and being patient, I will definitely do a part 2, though I will probably edit some of the it when I have time, unfortunately I have exams tomorrow and I really needed to publish this before I abandon this in my drafts and left it to rot, and to the ones who saw this getting posted unfinished, no you did not saw that, you're actually hallucinating. and please ignore the typos if you ever saw it lmao. ^^
summary. sukuna once collected a great many things, but none have ever been so important as the fox spirit that captivated him. so consumed by his love, he offered it a deal: live only for him, and sorcerers will never touch its beloved forest again. something twisted along the way.
wc. 15.3k (THICK FIC FOR A THICK MAN YKWIM)
tags. smut | top reader, bottom sukuna, husbands!reader/kuna, slightly tsundere kuna (hes soo possessive). true form sukuna!!! curse/fox spirit!reader, reader is of a similar height (~8ft or whatever sukuna is idk). smut takes place in the heian era, the rest is modern day; lore part includes kenjaku + his squad of curses. reader calls sukuna 'my lord', sukuna calls reader 'fox'. blood, sexy cannibalism (? sukuna receiving), praise + degradation, oral w his stomach mouth, come eating, brief hair-pulling, spit as lube, hickeys/biting, riding, missionary, edging (sukuna; kinda? hes just stubborn), multiple orgasms, creampie
notes. as requested, the reader character has "golden eyes" and "long hair". he's a kitsune/inari okami based character bc i starting writing this when white fox came to marvel rivals and i was like "yo i wanna turn into a big fox too"
[ requested (+2) ]
At the bottom of a lake in a national park sits a towering stone statue of an Asura – the three-faced, six-armed demigods who revelled in war and hungered insatiably for worldly pleasures. Two hands are clasped in prayer; four reach for the heavens. The forests are dense, the mountains tall, and the waters dark and cool.
Most scholars estimate the statue to be particularly ancient – something like one thousand and five hundred years, around the time Buddhism was introduced to Japan. Its size, however, begets questions: why so large for such a new religion? Who made it? Why at the bottom of a lake? Why this lake? How is it still almost perfectly preserved, with such little water damage or natural erosion?
It was a local oddity, a mystery of ancient times. Its purpose – to scare, to protect, to be worshipped – was debated. Kenjaku, however, knows better.
It is a door. An entrance to a long-forgotten tomb.
Now, draining an entire lake is a mammoth task. Luckily for him, whoever crafted the statue also made it a lock. It will open via a specific pulse of cursed energy, shaped sharp and terrible like a blade rather than a key. However, time has eroded the statue's memory of its proper shape – with a determined-enough battering ram, any door will open. Kenjaku is that ram.
It's magical, watching the lake drain into some strange contraption at the raised circular base at the bottom of the statue. It looks like a grate. Soon enough, the roar of the water subsides, and the dark hollow of the lake, punched deep in the earth, is like the gods' very own kitchen sink.
Kenjaku's eyes flicker to the dark dome above. The veil conceals everything for now, but discretion would be awfully difficult to keep if he finds out there's no way to restore the lake to proper, well, lake-hood. Sorcerers would come sniffing in an instant.
At the bottom of the lake, he enters the revealed stone doors, probably fifteen or twenty feet tall. They waited, newly open, for him once he'd bypassed the lock, grinding open slowly once he reached them.
His steps echo in the vast, dark cave system. The soft plink of water drips into clear pools somewhere in the distance. His breath clouds in front of him, the air cold and damp, as he descends stairs carved into the dark stone. The stairs go down and down, then up and up, the long winding passages broad enough to fit three cars side by side.
Torches line the walls, hammered into place with black iron that fans out in the shape of spider lilies. They crackle to life as he nears them, their red flames licking the centres.
Eventually, he comes across another set of open stone doors. Two black braziers sit on either side, throwing crimson light on the walls and darkening the shadows. He lifts a hand to one of the braziers as he passes, fascinated as the flames flicker harmlessly around his bare fingers. The fire feels only as hot as the steam over a boiling pot of pasta.
None of this is for him specifically. There is no kindling in the braziers, no oil in the torches – this is a falling line of dominoes, with stored cursed energy instructed to follow a set of actions the moment the lake drained. It is unique. It is ancient. It is... ingenious.
Beyond the second set of doors, the cave system opens up into a vast, gaping cavern. Through a gap in the ceiling, pale moonlight cuts diagonally through the darkness, a cone of light falling upon a rocky formation in the centre of the cavern. A cleared path curves up to a point, and mirroring its curve above is a massive stalactite. Perhaps the points of each had touched, once, into a single form, but no longer. Water drips from the tip into a blooming patch of translucent blue flowers that stretches around the base of the rock all the way to his feet, so pale they seem to glow in the moonlight.
He glances down near the doors. At the edge of the field of flowers is a knee-height collection of drawings etched in stone and painted with flaked paint. He bobs down, brushing his fingers over the stone.
The linework is sloppy, unsteady. The paint trails outside of the lines. Humanoid figures dance around a spider-lily brazier – sit peacefully around a roasted boar – stand knee-deep in a river catching fish. His fingers trail over the last scene. Two figures are in the water, one tall and one small, but there's a third on the banks, watching under a tree. It has four arms. The face has been erased with time.
He stands again. He walks up the path, flowers sprawling on either side, and finds a tall, still figure slumped gently at the top, like a throne.
Ancient silks pool around its wrists and feet, trailing through the flowers. Any colour it once had has since faded, the cloth now bone-white. It still, however, retains its shimmery lustre, with a sheen like crushed pearls.
Kenjaku steps closer, brushing his bangs over his ear as he reaches into his pocket and extracts his phone, glancing at a picture of an ancient painted scroll from his private library. He lifts his phone up to the figure, glancing between them, and hums.
"All these years, and you haven't changed one bit."
A thousand years have passed and your skin is still supple, smooth, though ashen with death. No blood runs through you now. Your hands rest open in your lap, cupped loosely, as if awaiting offerings. Your hair is romantically long, tucked behind your ear and over your shoulder, and despite how soft they look, your lips lack colour.
Even standing at the end of your robes, more than a metre away from the bottom of your moonlit throne, Kenjaku still has to look up slightly – you are tall, definitely beating his current body, six-foot-something as it is. No, you are larger than that. God-tall. Easily worshipped, he thinks – easily feared.
He steps closer, carefully manoeuvring around the white silk pooling around his shoes. In your hands is an intricate golden brooch, inlaid with four almond-shaped rubies that haven't dulled with time. It rests delicately in your palms, and your head is tilted towards it – perhaps it was the last thing you ever saw. Careful not to disturb the rest of you, he reaches for it.
Your hand shoots forward and wraps around the entirety of his forearm, dragging him in. Your grip is bruising, strong enough to shatter stone.
Silhouetted by darkness, your eyes glow a ghostly silver, pupils completely milky-white. Your lips nearly touch his as you pull him ever so slightly closer, fingers twisting punishingly around his arm. Your breath is cold against his lips.
"A corpse..." you whisper, a raspy, rattling breath, "should be left well alone."
Kenjaku doesn't move. He doesn't try to. Even dead, your presence is electrifying, your touch like a live wire straight to the nerves. His lungs constrict, and his heart pounds in his chest with something more than wonder.
Even like this, you still manage to surprise him.
You tilt your head slightly, eyes reflecting with an eerie catlike glow in the shadows of your features. Slowly, your grip loosens, and you release his arm – gently, softly, as if you're giving it back to him. Mechanically, your gaze lowers to the brooch in your palm, and you lean back, cupping it once more. Your hand closes around the brooch; the crimson jewels glitter between your long fingers. You close your eyes, and stillness returns to the dark cavern.
Kenjaku grabs his wrist, rubbing it more out of habit than anything. His own touch is a balm from the icy burn of yours. He mutters, "So dramatic."
You don't move.
"My way would have been easier. Centralised. I have to go out of my way to bring you back – but you were always a rebellious one, weren't you?"
He reaches for the brooch again. You grab his wrist – again. Just like before, there is no life in it. Nothing real. This is all just automatic reflex, instinct preserved in limbo, as unconscious and unthinking as the decay of meat and muscle – a natural, predetermined pattern of reactions to certain stimuli.
"What a bother," he murmurs, twisting his arm out of the corpse's grasp. "But if I were you, I suppose I'd want to keep a face like this, too."
He leans down, inspecting your lowered face. You have intimidatingly beautiful features – noble, strong. Uniquely elegant.
He reaches up, his face tilted towards yours. His fingers brush your ice-cold cheek – his palm is tiny in comparison.
Part curse, part god. A once-simple soul entangled deeply, cosmically, with another's. A bond that transcends eras, lives, and perhaps the very realm of the earth.
You don't stir. Why, he wonders? Is it the brooch that acts as the catalyst? Is your corpse protecting it?
Kenjaku draws back, lifting his phone again and scanning his annotations printed on a PDF file of scrolls. The photos are clearly taken with a phone camera on a library table rather than being scanned in archive quality, but they’re serviceable.
There's a highlighted note on a poem with beautiful calligraphy, its author gone uncredited. It accompanies a landscape scene of the lake he's standing under, the inky shape of the hills and mountains almost identical to when he viewed it over a nearby cliff.
Lucent blooms settle
Beneath sleeping mountains' light—
Silk's argent embrace
He hums. Incredibly profound.
It's a winter poem. 'Sleeping mountains' – that's the seasonal word, the kigo. His thoughts dart between fragments of information as he taps his chin thoughtfully, beginning to pace languidly back and forth. If only you'd trusted him enough with the key yourself – he'd had to scrounge through countless charred villages and museum archives just to find these clues, a task that spanned centuries. You were very good at hiding things. Unfortunately for him, only one being in existence has ever held that key, and they were currently… indisposed.
Winter. Cold. The corpse is cold. 'Lucent blooms' – that definitely has to be referencing these strange flowers, some rare variety he's never seen anywhere else. 'Light'… Moon? The moon's out right now. A full moon, if that changes things. Or it could be the light bouncing off the white peaks of the surrounding mountains. 'Embrace'. Embrace what? Fancy talk for just enjoying the natural view?
He clicks his tongue with a sigh.
Silk, his mind supplies helpfully. His gaze swings back to the god-corpse resting before him and the snow-white silk, still defiantly gleaming despite the passing aeons. An idea sparks in his mind.
Slowly, he crouches, inspecting the flowers and plucks the largest one from the fresh soil. The white petals are slender, soft as velvet and luminous under the moonlight. He glances at his phone, rereading the poem two more times. He places the flower in the cup of your open palms.
He waits. He watches.
The corpse's fingers twitch.
They close stiffly around the flower, pulling it close. With a slow, steady inhale, the corpse's eyes flutter open.
No longer are they that milky death-white, lacking the natural pinkness at the corners of the eyes and in the veins of the sclera. The irises are now gold, molten gold, and as bright and brilliant as the dawn.
There is a figure in front of you: dark-clothed, blurry with countless years of your dreamless oblivion.
"Uraume…?" Your voice is a low, husky breath. You close your eyes, one hand lifting briefly towards your aching, throbbing temple. The gold brooch tips from your palm, landing soundlessly in your lap.
"Not quite."
You blink, brow slightly furrowed. Your vision clears. There is a man in front of you – a sorcerer, judging by the controlled silvery shimmer that threads itself through his very being. His face is unfamiliar. But his energy is…
You take in his serene expression, the knowing gaze that borders on condescension… and the stitches across the forehead.
"You are not Uraume," you murmur – barely. Your lip curls with distaste. He has to strain to hear over the ambient noise, the low hum of the earth and the whisper of wind through stone. Your voice comes low, a death rattle cold enough to chill bones. "Leave, brain. You are not welcome here."
"Such little gratitude to an old friend," he replies with a smile. "Would it kill you to call me by my name?"
"Which one have you stolen now? This body…" You tilt your head, surveying him. "It is a recent acquisition."
"Yes – Geto Suguru," he says rather joyfully, touching his stitched forehead in a caricature of shyness. "You may call me such, if you like."
"I will not." You lower your gaze, scooping up the brooch and closing your fingers over it. The metal is cool against your skin – your sense of touch is returning to you. You can feel the intricate patterns of the gold and the hard angles of the jewels under your thumb. "Why do you wake me?"
"My plans are coming to fruition. I assumed you would want to be there for them."
You trace the white petals of the freshly-plucked flower in your palm. An offering – but given by the wrong hands. "If I had any interest in your 'plans', I would have accepted your proposal back then. So, before I snap every bone of your borrowed body and drink its marrow while you watch, I ask again: why do you wake me?"
He lifts his hands in surrender, but his smile sharpens. "Ryomen Sukuna has returned."
Your fingers stop drawing circles into the petals. Your breath catches. "What…?"
"Indeed. I'll give you a moment to check for yourself."
You can sense it. You feel him. It's faint, but something tugs at the base of your ribs, a sharp longing that has your eyes widening. He's unmistakable. You would recognise him anywhere – you would know him blind.
But if he has returned, why is it this brain stands before you, and not him? You promised you would wait for him. You would wake for him. To be awoken by this thing instead feels like a sickening betrayal. Your grip tightens on the flower, its petals crushed in your palm.
You… should kill him.
"Thinking of ending me?" His grin widens. "Unfortunately, Your Grace, I am the tip of the spear when it comes to restoring the King of Curses to his full strength. Removing me from the equation would obstruct his return to power."
"Would it?" You cup the brooch instead, letting the broken flower petals flutter to your feet. "You are such a confident little bug."
"Well-earned, I'd say." Kenjaku flutters a few fingers in the air casually as he speaks. "If it pleases you, I know a place where you can stay to recuperate while I gather the remaining number of Sukuna's fingers. I'm sure you'll be well enough by then to participate in my plans, should you change your mind."
"I have no desire to partake in your games. It is all posturing and strutting about – no substance." You glance up, leaning back. "Now leave before I peel every nerve out of that hideous brain of yours. You interrupted my beauty sleep."
He smiles back, infuriatingly composed. "As you wish. But I can't, in good faith, go without mentioning something. You might be interested to see that I have… this." He reaches into his robes and pulls out a wooden box completely wrapped in paper seals. Despite them, dark cursed energy radiates off of it in suffocating waves, thick enough to choke humans into a terrified, sobbing paralysis. It pulses like a heartbeat. He shakes it, and something rattles within.
Your amusement vanishes. You stiffen.
He watches your reaction keenly. "This is one of the two. Join me and I'll help you retrieve the other. Luckily for us, I just so happen to know exactly where it is."
Your eyes flash. "Are you threatening me?"
"It's more of a bargain, but I digress. Is the threat of a heart attack on a cosmic scale enough to entice you over, Your Grace?"
You gaze at him with an expression as readable as stone. Your gaze darkens. "You are a fool if you believe I'll ever make promises to a brain."
"A smart fool. I know you and Sukuna are impossibly attached to each other. How long will it take you to rewrite the rules of your 'hibernation' again? A year? Ten years? His current vessel is giving him grief, so it may take him a while to retain control long enough to find you. Help me gather his fingers and you'll have him back in a flash."
You say nothing.
"How long has it been?" you ask, finally, glancing around you. "How long has that bastard made me wait?"
"A thousand years, give or take."
Your grip tightens on the brooch. A long, heavy silence falls.
"Very well," you mutter, tracking him like prey as he steps away, inspecting the flowers and your silk robes as if you're some sort of museum exhibit. Your lips press together with disgust as he smiles and clasps his hands, a glint in his eyes that states he already knew your answer before you said a word. At least for now, you're weakened, so you'll oblige, but you promise yourself you'll enjoy spilling him across the stone one day. "Do what you must."
—
A child is running around your feet. It is small, with mismatched eyes and long blue-grey hair. You stare at it.
"This is not Uraume."
Kenjaku chuckles, watching from his seat by the table. He lifts a cup of steaming tea to his lips. "Uraume is busy searching for Sukuna's fingers. Why? Missing them?"
You cross your arms, tugging your billowing sleeves away from the grabby hands of the tiny... curse. Undeterred, it crawls under the hem of your trailing robes, folding them over its shoulders like a cape. You lift your gaze. "You said they were here."
"I said they were awake," he corrects. "If you care so much, why don't you send out your Bat-Signal, call them over?"
"My what?" you frown. "If you mean that I should signal my presence to them, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. Only Sukuna created that sort of bond. I did not like the idea of being... tracked."
He hums, sipping his tea. "Always so independent. Uraume will be back soon, I wager. In the meantime, why don't you introduce yourself, Mahito?"
The child at your feet looks up and beams, brushing his messy bangs out of his eyes. The dark stitches across his skin stretch with his smile. "I'm Mahito!" he chirps. "I can touch souls!"
"That's... very nice," you say, tugging your robes to stop them from catching and pulling at his dark stitches. You glance between the pair, eyes sliding up to Kenjaku's forehead. "Is it another one of yours?"
Kenjaku lets out a barked laugh, placing his tea on the table. "No. He was born of human hatred. He's quite young – not even a year old, I believe."
"Oh. I suppose that's better." You observe the youngster for a moment as he plays with the charms hanging from your sash, particularly absorbed with a small jade fox.
"Excuse me?" He almost sounds offended. "Why is it better that he's not my child?"
You ignore him, turning to the little curse. "Mahito, do your stitches hold you together, as his do? Or are yours just to make you look even more adorable?"
He lights up. "Geto! You hear that? He thinks I'm adorable!" He turns back to you, grinning. "I don't know, mister! I don't think I'll fall apart without them, but I haven't been pulled apart yet."
"I see." You pat his head. "Let's keep it that way."
"Okay!" He grasps your kimono and follows you to the table, where a dozen old scrolls and stolen inventory files lie neatly organised. You pick up the nearest folder, finding inside a printed report of 'Sukuna's Finger: Left Index'. You trace the image of it, your gaze softening ever so slightly.
Mahito isn't tall enough to see what's in your hands, let alone over the edge of the table. He huffs in annoyance and shoots up in height, shaking out his newly lengthened limbs, and grabs your elbow, shoving himself beneath your arm. He is now comfortably chest-height with you.
"Oh, just looking at these again. Geto always looks at these. So, you two were, like, married, right?" he says, tilting his head straight up to look at you at an angle impossible for human necks. "Was he any good as a wife?"
"It was a covenant," you correct, turning the page. "And yes. He was very good."
"Wow," he giggles, grabbing a scroll and unrolling it flat across the table. "Then what was the covenant about? How'd you meet? Did he try to kill you?"
You glance down at your robes, white as moonlight. A small smile tugs at your lips. "That's a boring story, Mahito."
"I don't believe that for a second! I mean, I'm not doing anything important. Let me decide if it's boring or not," he says, immediately ditching the scroll he'd just opened to take up half the library table. "Tell me, tell me!"
"Are you sure? I might not be the best storyteller. My mind is still a little foggy with sleep."
"It's okay. I just wanna know how someone like Sukuna caught the attention of someone as pretty as you, mister." He stares up at you with wide, sparkling eyes.
"If you insist." You chuckle.
"I do!"
"Very well. Long ago, I lived in a forest," you begin, touching the photo of Sukuna's finger. Even Kenjaku shifts slightly, eyes downcast towards his research but his ear tilted towards you. "It was a great, ancient place, spanning across many mountains. It was my home, and I protected it well for many years – until one day, humans came stumbling through it, shouting and trampling and carrying torches. There were too many to fight off, coming from all directions. Dealing with one group left another unchecked. They set my home on fire; that fire raged for two weeks."
You grab a chair and settle down into it, and Mahito quickly takes a seat at your feet. "Hanami hates when humans do that," he says wisely, nodding.
"They do it often, those wretched things – no consideration for the innocent creatures caught in their paths. That day, they were looking for someone: someone who'd made his latest home in my forest, and who they called the King of Curses. I didn't think much of the title. I'd never heard of the man before, so I wondered why they cared so much about him. Curious, I sought him out. I don't know why the sorcerers struggled to find him – he was loud and brutish, every step like an earthquake, every blow shaking the heavens. Unfortunately, before I could confront the barbarian disrupting my peace, the sorcerers fighting him attacked me as well. Mahito, what colour do you think gods bleed?"
He cups his chin thoughtfully. "Mine's red, but most other curses are purple. Hm... You seem different. Maybe gold, like your eyes?"
You smile evenly. "Clever guess. After I slaughtered those sorcerers, I found this supposed 'king' standing back and watching me, letting me do all the hard work. It infuriated me. He barges into my home, destroys my quiet, and now he doesn't lift a single finger to drive off the enemies he brought to my door? He had twenty of them. Surely he could spare one. But he refused, so clearly, I had no choice but to chase him off like a feral dog to take his invaders with him. For three days and three nights, we fought until we reached a stalemate. He could not touch me in a way that mattered. I could not keep him down."
A sigh flutters past your lips as you rest your head on your palm, propping your elbow on the table. "Finally, he stopped. He called me mesmerising, said that I'd enchanted him with how I fought like it was a dance, but that he wouldn't leave and wouldn't help with the humans unless offered something in return. You who steal my moonlight for your silks! he accused me. I will kill every sorcerer who threatens this forest only if you dance for me alone, forever."
Mahito hangs onto your every word, leaning forward slightly. His round, mismatched eyes shine with fascination.
"And so, Ryomen Sukuna, the mighty and undefeated King of Curses, became my darling little guard dog. The end." You wave a hand, your white sleeve gleaming in the light, and laugh at Mahito's dumbfounded expression. "Why the look? Did you expect more?"
"You skipped the middle part!" he complains, crossing his arms. "That's the best part. I wanna hear how you responded to his bargain!"
You think of Sukuna's flushed face and parted lips, all four ruby eyes half-lidded and trained on you. You think of taking him then and there in the forest clearing, the grass and trees bleached bone-white from the heat of your clash, with his sturdy thighs bracketing yours as he gripped his weapons stabbed into the soil for balance.
"No," you hum, smiling. "No, dear, you don't."
—
Mahito quite likes you. Hanami approves of your paternal care of the forest you claimed as your own, and little Dagon is still too young to do much except get carried around by Mahito so they can listen to your stories together. These are facts that bother the volcanic cursed spirit, Jogo, a surprising amount.
"He lies as easily as breathing," Jogo says gruffly, his single Cyclopean eye narrowing in your direction as you spin tales out of Sukuna's triumphs over ten-thousand-strong armies. Mahito is small at the moment, legs crossed in the sand of Dagon's beachy domain – his eyes shine brighter when you briefly make reference to your own formidable strength. Sukuna is a fairytale, just a collection of words – you are tangible, real, and to his mind, more interesting for it.
Kenjaku smiles calmly. "Is that why you don't get along?"
"Cursed spirits should be authentic! Real! The fox hides his true feelings and plays games to manipulate things in his favour. That's cowardly," he grumbles. "Striking from the shadows is reserved for the weak."
"Ah, but you forget that he faced off against Sukuna in his prime and managed to walk away. He's anything but weak. Open, honourable duels just aren't his cup of tea." Glancing across the beach, he watches Mahito clamber into your lap, childlike interest bright on his face as he reaches up and touches the brooch pinned high on your lapel. You hide it with your hair most of the time, sweeping it forward over your shoulders. Kenjaku watches as you sit him across your knee and let him touch it, but you grasp it firmly so he can't steal it away. "Once Sukuna fully incarnates, don't mention such thoughts to him. He's very touchy when it comes to what's his, so if you know what's good for you, keep your mouth closed."
Jogo harrumphs. "Fine. Doesn't matter to me. Why'd you wake him up before Sukuna's incarnation, anyway? He hasn't done anything yet except make a fanboy out of Mahito."
"Oh, just think a little bit harder," Kenjaku cajoles. "We know Sukuna's vessel is trained by Gojo Satoru and they're both residing at the Tokyo jujutsu school, yes? If Sukuna's as possessive as I remember, knowing his fox has returned and is waiting for him will fuel his desire to incarnate as soon as possible. Right now, there are still a dozen fingers out there, so he isn't rushing to consume them. I want to change that."
His eye narrows. "You… want to send him to the school."
"Bingo," he replies cheerfully.
"That'll get him killed."
"Oh, please. Stop underestimating him. He's very good at his certain brand of violence. Besides..." he hums as he settles back in the chair, crossing his ankles and closing his eyes with a serene smile. "Don't you think it would be funny?"
—
Yuji trudges blearily towards the open training fields of the campus, rubbing his eyes. His uniform is crinkled, and his socks are probably two different colours. He can't remember. He's always been unnaturally hardy, but over the last two weeks, Sukuna has been exceptionally loud and restless inside his head, and every lapse in attention was enough to let him manifest a mouth or eye with disturbing ease. Nights were even worse, and Yuji worriedly relayed to his teacher how Sukuna was able to take control of his entire body just because he crashed so hard it felt like blacking out. He'd jerked himself awake with his hand on the doorknob, but that wasn't a risk he was willing to take every night.
Satoru had lost much of his flippant attitude at his confession. His smile faded for a beat too long before it returned, and he simply asked Yuji to meet up with him the next day to 'train'. Train what, exactly, he wasn't sure, but honestly, he'd trust the man if he told him to walk off a cliff blindfolded.
"You're a weak, pathetic little gnat and always will be. You think your 'training' will amount to anything? Give in. Give up."
If Yuji smacks the side of his head with any more force, he'll give himself a concussion. "You're straightforward today," he mutters. "Usually you like to try to manipulate me more."
"What is there to manipulate when you've got the brains of a brick?" Sukuna drawls. His voice echoes in his skull like a pounding bassline with none of the fun involved.
"You're a real jerk, man."
He chuckles then, deep and sinister. "Every time you consume a part of me, you lose more of yourself. Can you imagine that, of not knowing where I begin and you end?"
Something red flashes into Yuji's peripherals. He blinks, pausing on the edge of the training field along the path, right next to the dense forest that circles the campus.
A small red fox halts in the middle of the path in front of him, thick fluffy tail swaying low behind it. It blinks slowly, its yellow eyes fixated on him. Its red-orange fur is glossy, and its soft white throat is as pale as snow.
"Hey, buddy," Yuji coos, voice pitching higher subconsciously. "Aw. You're just the fluffiest, aren'tcha?"
The fox stares at him, small paws tapping the ground. It turns and patters further along the path for a few steps, then pauses and looks over its shoulder expectantly with uncannily clever eyes.
"Whoa," he mumbles, brows knitting slightly. "Is it just me, or does that fox look like it wants me to follow it?"
The response is instantaneous. "Do it, brat."
"Well, now I don't want to," he says stubbornly, crossing his arms. "Can't you literally read my thoughts? I was going to do it to kill time, since Gojo-sensei isn't here yet, but you saying that really messed me up."
"What the hell do you think I gain out of following a damn animal?"
"I dunno. What if it's a cursed spirit or something? What if you're trying to get me killed – again?"
"It is not. I can assure you, it is not." He sounds almost impatient. "But say it was. Look at the size of the thing. Kick it and you'd exorcise it. Now go. It's leaving."
Yuji groans, reluctantly jogging after the quick little fox. He supposes Sukuna's right, though – he's on campus, and he saw Principal Yaga walking through the halls just a few minutes earlier, so he at least has someone to run to if anything goes sideways.
Besides... something within him burns with curiosity. Not a vestigial remnant of Sukuna, either. Something uniquely his own.
With a half-second pause and a glance back, the fox veers left into the trees. It vanishes amongst the shrub almost immediately. Yuji scrambles to track it. "Ah, damn it…! Doesn't everybody say not to follow foxes in forests? The second things look fishy, I'm getting outta here."
For the first time in weeks, Sukuna is dead silent. Yuji ducks under a low-hanging branch, glancing behind him to see the light of the path quickly dimming with every step. The fox seems to be leading him in a straight line, which will be great for sprinting his way back to safety if he even so much as hears a twig snap.
The fox's pace quickens, white-tipped tail held high like a flag. Yuji steps over a nest of thick, gnarled roots, almost trips on a spiky bush, and looks up. He freezes.
There, in a small patch of sun behind a large evergreen tree, is a pure white fox the size of a large dog. Several smaller red foxes surround it, jumping about or resting in the patch of sunlight. What seems like a mother and her kits play slightly further away to give the yipping, wrestling babies some room. The white fox watches them with particular care.
"Whoa... Cute," Yuji whispers, dazed. He lifts his hands to his mouth, his eyes glistening. "So cute…"
At his words, the large white fox turns its head in his direction. Its eyes are not just yellow – they seem to glow with an unnatural flash that lingers even after it passes through the light into the shadows. It rises to all fours and steps slowly, predatorily, towards him.
Stepping out from behind the tree, it reveals nine long, gleaming white tails, held up high and proud.
The fox that led Yuji here scampers towards it, lowering its head in what seems like deference. The white fox glances at it once, and the red one stands and trots off to join another curled up in the roots of a tree.
The white fox approaches slowly, strong and sinewy. It blinks with eyes almost human, the pupils dilating as it scans his figure. The nine – nine! – tails puff up and give a little quiver, before calming down into a slower – though faster than earlier – side-to-side sway.
It comes even closer, near enough to pet if he lifted his hand. His fingers twitch. Its fur looks impossibly soft and white, like a cloud in animal form. It churrs quietly as it lifts its head towards his outstretched palm.
Wait, outstretched?
He snaps out of it with a sharp gasp. He turns swiftly on his heel and takes a single step forward.
"Leaving so soon?"
He freezes with a strange tugging in his soul – was that his? – that commands him to turn. Eyes wide, expression fixed in place, he slowly inches back around. His breath catches in his throat as his gaze travels up, up, up.
Standing before him is a beautiful man, taller than anything he's ever seen – taller than Nanamin, taller than Gojo-sensei, taller than Panda. He wears long robes that flow like a silver river, gleaming so brightly he looks like a fallen star, and a soft wind plays with his sleeves and hair. His expression is almost kind.
Almost.
"Goodness. Even a thousand years later, you still manage to drag me into the filth of your messes," you say, your voice a soothing wash of silk over river-smoothed stone. A pair of red foxes curls around your ankles, leaping over your trailing robes.
Yuji takes a step back.
"Well?" you ask, tilting your head. "Nothing to say, husband?"
Yuji squeaks, lifting his hands defensively. "Huh? What? No, you must be mistaken, I-I'm not – um—"
His jaw clicks shut as you step closer, extending a hand. How can you be more beautiful up close? You gently take his chin between your thumb and forefinger, tilting his face up. "He even looks like you, Sukuna. I have not seen you so young in a long, long time."
A crushing pressure presses down on his lungs, not unlike Gojo-sensei's when he lifts his blindfold. He wants to move. Needs to move. He's going to die if he stays still for even a second longer.
You lean down slightly, molten-gold eyes trained on his. Against his own will, his eyes flick down to the ruby-studded brooch peeking out from beneath your hair. Something dark and foreign rumbles against his very soul – like the purr of a large cat.
"Brat." Sukuna's deep voice cuts through his incoherent thoughts. "Let me take over."
What? he thinks, halfway to panic because a really, really pretty man is holding his face and isn't breaking eye contact. No! I'm not doing that! No way!
"You think you can fight him and win?" He scoffs. "That's a special-grade curse you're looking at, you know – slips past your defences like moonlight, a cruelty so beautiful you would thank him if he danced on your corpse. He made rivers run red with human blood for days."
WHAT? he thinks, fully panicking.
Oh, god. Oh, dear god. He wonders if he can summon his trusty teacher if he screams his name loud enough.
"You should come with me, child," you whisper with a smile, those golden eyes glinting. You kneel, moving closer, and Yuji squeaks as you look up at him. The scent of sweet petrichor curls around him – cool, gentle, like a secret not meant to be shared. "I won't hurt you... not a hair on your head. Come."
Your offered hand looks so inviting…
"No!" he blurts out, jerking back. "He said you like human blood, a-and dancing on people's corpses! I don't trust you at all!"
"Do you think sweet animals would sleep around my feet if I were so savage? You'd trust the word of a demon over mine, pup?"
"I..." He hesitates. "F-For this, yeah! He sounded proud. He's never proud of anything, so he can't be lying."
Your lips part slightly before pressing together. Your eyes, once so gentle, narrow. "Sukuna... You're ruining things again with your big mouth. I travelled all this way just to be foiled by my own husband – typical."
You turn Yuji's face, staring at the scar-like line below his eye. "You speak to the child, yet you hide from me. Does it please you to pretend I'm not here? Coward."
Foreign indignance bubbles up inside him. Yuji swallows.
You wait. One second. Two.
Your expression darkens and you rise to your feet, not so much dropping Yuji's face as pushing him away. He steps back, touching his jaw where your fingers once were. Something lingers, painless but crackling like Pop Rocks against his skin.
"Fine," you murmur, like a dull wave against the shore, as you turn your back to him. Your voice is impassive, but the forest responds to your mood as physically as a bushfire. Trees shudder. Flowers shrink away. The foxes stop playing. "Stay silent. Stay spineless. Just don't come crawling to me after, begging for forgiveness."
You lift your head at the brief flaring of heavy, malicious, familiar cursed energy that soaks into the forest around you.
At once, with more urgency than ever before, black markings bloom across Yuji's skin. His features sharpen minutely, his nails lengthen and blacken, and he runs a hand through his hair and sweeps it up off his forehead. With a slow, silent exhale, he pushes his sleeves up to his elbows and shoves his hands into his pockets, tipping his chin up as he regards your figure with eyes that are finally his own.
Emotion burns like red-hot charcoal in his chest. Sharing a body with a teenager was annoying at best and humiliating at worst. Forced to watch through the brat's eyes as you touch him, hold him, even going so far as to kneel before him to make yourself smaller, he despised the way he felt his vessel's heartbeat quicken, how the kid's thoughts turned into jumbled mush the moment you gave him a playful nickname.
Maybe he should tear out the brat's eyes before he gives his body back. Maybe he should rip his heart out again just for the pleasure of crushing it in his fist, knowing that regenerating another meant that the new one would never have raced for you.
You turn. Your expression changes – softens, almost.
"Sukuna," you say quietly.
He says your name slowly. It's almost reverential, his four eyes trailing over your body. His crimson gaze is greedy, drinking you in. You have changed very little – you still wear the kimono he gifted you, tailored and as expensive as ten thousand mercenaries. The hem has frayed slightly, trailing over the ground, but every silver thread still carries the faint thrum of his original cursed energy – a mark, a claim, which you once wore with preening pride, teasing him for his quick jealousy. You have kept it steady, meticulously keeping him alive quite literally on your sleeve.
His lips part. "You're… awake."
"I am." Your eyes narrow. "Not by your hand."
He crosses his arms. Two, not four. "No."
"Why not?"
He pauses, assessing your mood. You stand perfectly still, now taller than him by a significant margin. He thought he'd hate it more than he does. Regardless, you have yet to grab him and sew him into a rock-weighted sack to toss in a lake, so he supposes it could always be worse.
"The brat is an anomaly," he replies, his lower set of eyes glancing down at his vessel's body with a sneer. His upper pair remain trained on you. "I was… suppressed."
"Suppressed," you repeat. You lift your chin and stare down at him. "I thought I married the King of Curses. The strongest."
He bristles slightly. "You did," he snaps, his voice deepening. "I am."
Silence falls. Your cursed energy ripples outward, and as the foxes begin to play again, as if he weren't even there, he knows he is free to speak. You have cloaked his presence, letting his energy merge with yours – as a creature of lies and illusions, nature's guardian god, your cursed energy feels more natural than most, as essential and unremarkable as rain and earth. You've given him a few minutes of secrecy.
"Hm." You step towards him, beckoning with an outstretched hand. He meets you in the middle, and you gently take his chin between your thumb and forefinger, tilting his face up. "You look young, Sukuna. I have not seen you like this in a long, long time."
"Do you prefer it?" he asks, his tone flat with boredom – but he never blinks, tracing your features, printing them into the backs of his eyelids. The weight of his gaze slips lower – to your lips and then to your robes, tantalisingly open from the chest to the navel. His tongue swipes over his lower lip. Your waist is cinched with a wide silk belt, pinned with several draping chains of pearls and jewels. Little charms of glossy jade hang from your sash.
"Don't be jealous." You tilt your head as you blink slowly down at him, curiously tracing his features with your hand. "You are so small now, beloved… It hurts my neck to look you in the eye."
He huffs, but says nothing. You let go of his face and turn to pick up one of the foxes darting around your ankles, which paws at your clothes like a fussy toddler wanting to be picked up. Sukuna almost steps forward to force himself back into your line of sight, to keep your attention solely on him. He satisfies himself by walking half a step behind you, his sleeve brushing yours as you take a seat on a fallen log, the bark blanketed in soft moss. The hems of your robes spill across the deep green grass like a pool of stars.
You place the little fox in your lap, and it curls up in the crook of your arm. Its yellow eyes follow Sukuna as he moves. Expectantly, you gesture to a boulder beside you and murmur, "Sit with me a while."
When he doesn't so much as twitch, your eyes narrow slightly.
"Sit."
He sits.
You lean back, satisfied. You spend a long, silent, suffocating moment watching him, unblinking, in the way cats watch birds.
The mother fox begins to pick her kits up and place them near your feet, one at a time – back and forth, until all six of them are roughhousing a few steps away. Sukuna doesn't try to hide his distaste when a pair of them roll too hard and land on top of your pooling hem. You, however, relax at the sight, a small smile tugging at your lips as the mother trots off to a quiet, shady tree nearby and promptly curls up and closes her eyes.
Children are all the same, regardless of species.
Atop the boulder, Sukuna sits with one knee up and his cheek in his palm. His shoulders are loosely sloped, his hands open and loose, and if you didn't know any better, you'd say he's bored of the company. But you do know better. One set of eyes is always, always, trained on you.
"So," he drawls. "I'm sitting. There. Now what?"
You eye him. "Someone's testy these days… Eager to get away, are you?"
"I—" He exhales sharply. "No. Just aware of time. The brat's supposed to be meeting with his mentor soon. I don't know how long I have you for."
"Ah. That would be the newest Gojo boy I've heard so much about, yes? The only one in recent years to have both the Six Eyes and Limitless?"
"Yeah. That one." He clenches a fist. Loosens it. "I want you to stay away from him."
"Hm." You stroke the fox's brow gently with your knuckle. It curls up more comfortably. "Do you believe I would lose?"
His lips thin into a line. "No. He will become far too interested in you."
"Of course you would think so. Sharing me with anyone else is, to you, worse than death." The fox shifts in your arms, and you can feel its breaths – the steady expansion of its ribs, the inner workings of the heart. Meat and bone. Even Sukuna, next to you, is the same – now in a stolen body, yes, but he was still flesh and blood when he had four arms and four eyes. You, on the other hand, won't leave a corpse to feed the earth.
Inhaling sharply, you turn to Sukuna, suppressing the emotion that still rakes its claws across your heart when you remember he lied to you. I will be there when you wake, he'd murmured when his temples were frosty with time. He'd pushed a folded piece of paper into your hand, containing a short poem in his elegant script. Your sleep may leave you weakened. Until you regain your strength, I will keep you safe.
How humiliating it had been to stumble in front of Kenjaku, of all people. You had once been a force of nature, the only thing the merciless King of Curses ever took counsel with – the only thing strong enough to bend in his wake without breaking. None of that mattered when you were forced to walk with a hand against the wall to keep your balance.
"How do you know the Six Eyes will take an interest in me?" you ask, voice deceptively even. "Even if he were, what does it matter? I am yours, not his."
His fingers twitch at your last sentence. It almost makes you smile; even after all this time, he remains a possessive little creature.
"Sometimes I can see through the brat's eyes," he replies, dragging a hand through his hair. "Gojo Satoru has already taken an interest in you. Over the decades, cursed spirits by your tomb began to concentrate, but their numbers were recently lowered to near zero. The sorcerers suspect one of my fingers was consumed by a curse which razed everything else. They're investigating my history with the area."
"It is always you who causes trouble for me. No one else. Only you." You sigh. "Does the boy know you watch?"
He shakes his head. "The file was open when the boy glanced at it. He didn't even read the title."
"I see," you say. Then, quieter: "Is he aware of us right now?"
"No."
The pause that follows is thick with anticipation. Sukuna watches as you brush your hair over your shoulder, his body turning towards you ever so slightly as if to make himself look larger, to show himself off. Look at me, his posture demands. Look at me and no one else.
You look away.
"I see now that you cannot leave," you say, watching the kits at your feet pounce playfully at each other. "This… displeases me."
"Yeah, well, imagine how I feel."
You're supposed to be angry with him – for lying, for leaving, for a dozen little things you scrounge up in ancient memories just to be petty. But you almost smile, a familiar warmth blooming in your chest that passes as your kind of love.
He opens his mouth. You stiffen and hold up a hand, all humour vanishing from your expression.
"Wait," you murmur, eyes darting around. "Something has changed."
A beat after you, Sukuna feels it, too: a loud, careless rush of cursed energy, emanating from an infinitely-condensed point near the main gates of the campus. A radar, of sorts.
It crackles over him harmlessly, moving on without notice. You place the fox in your arms aside as you rise to your feet, turning to him with a complicated expression.
"Someone has come looking. I can't keep you hidden while revealing your vessel. This is... This is where we must part ways." Your gaze flits over him as you step closer. He tilts his head up to meet your eyes. "I can't say meeting you here made me happy. But... I missed your presence," you admit quietly, "and this assuages that, somewhat. Even if you are still as much of a bastard as you used to be."
He folds his arms tighter over his chest.
You continue, "Worry not. I will wait. After all, what is a few years to a millennium? However… you must promise me something in return for my patience."
He eyes you warily. "What is it?"
Leaning down, you grasp his chin. You glance over your shoulder in the direction of the overwhelming energy, pausing, then kneel in the grass and trace the marks along his cheek. A small smile graces your features, as soft and familiar as the night.
"Come for me the moment you are free. Depending on my mood, I may even offer you a dance," you tease. "You always liked that, didn't you?"
"Of course, I'm not a savage," he drawls, though his voice lacks its usual disdainful bite. He shifts his weight. "Fine. Deal."
"Good. Very good." You draw him closer, your fingertips brushing the soft underside of his chin. All four of his eyes flicker down to your lips. "My good boy…"
You press your lips to the corner of his mouth, as light as satin. For Sukuna, however, it is a grave insult – he grabs your collar and yanks you closer, turning his head so that his lips meet yours instead of his cheek.
He feels your lips curve up against his. They part, and you whisper his name against his skin.
—
"Beloved."
A silky voice, a soft touch. Somewhere in the distance, birds call to each other in the verdant canopies. Your fingers trail over his broad chest, and you prop your chin on his shoulder. You wrap your arms around him, pressed warm and solid against his back. He shifts – not to push you off, but to examine your expression.
You are smiling. Not that beautiful, terrifying show of teeth and tongue, but a small, playful one, reserved for him alone.
"What is it?" he mutters, ink brush hovering over the paper. "Weren't you teaching Uraume to use a bow?"
"I was," you agree, head bobbing. Silver glitters in your hair, woven through it like the river of heaven through the sky – treasured gifts from a man who cares little for personal adornment, but whose gaze always lingers a little longer, a little hungrier, when you drape yourself in his spoils.
"And?" he prompts, turning back to his half-finished poem. Your fingers slip beneath the edge of his dark grey haori, tracing the edge of the cloth. "Finish your sentences, fox."
"Patience. I was getting there. I sent Uraume out to run some errands – when you ask me to craft you weapons, you really don't understand how much you're asking of me. My list was... substantial." Those golden eyes of yours dilate slightly as you tilt your head, staring at the side of his face. You bring your lips to his neck, kissing the skin just below his jaw. "I tire of the heat of the forge. I missed you."
His skin flushes with heat as your touch grows heavier, less fleeting. You press on his shoulder, turning him towards you, and you smile, fanged, as your eyes drift to the grinning mouth splitting his stomach. You lower your hand, pressing your thumb to the sharp points of its teeth, and it laps lightly at your fingers like an eager little pet, saliva thick and viscous.
"You've missed me, too, I see," you hum, playing with its tongue. "Put down the brush." You lean in, licking the shell of his ear. His stomach-mouth kisses your palm, licking your hand into it. "It has been some time since I've touched you, my lord. I will fix that right away."
"You are interrupting my private time, fox," he grumbles, though he doesn't push you away. "Don't try to twist your desires as if it's my fault. You are insatiable."
"You're the one who wanted me all to yourself," you huff, the shimmer of your silken pearly robes pooling around you as you pluck the brush right out of his hand. You wear so much fabric – sometimes he wonders how you can stand to lug it all around. Translucent white ribbons loop around your arms and across your back, shimmering with silver threads. "Do you also blame your stomach for rumbling when you starve?"
Giving up on his poem, he turns to you fully. "What do you want, then? To eat me?"
"Oh, can I?" You lean forward with a half-lidded glance, leaning into his touch when he raises one hand to drape over your shoulders. "I would love that."
"Only if you remove your clothes."
You tilt your head, pointed canines digging into the softness of your lips as you bite back a smile. "So eager. Who's the one with the 'desires' now, hm?"
He scoffs. "Don't be ridiculous, fox. It keeps the cloth clean. You will whine to me later if there are bloodstains."
"I would not."
All four eyes gaze blankly at you. You click your tongue and remove your hand from his stomach, much to its obvious displeasure – its lips twist, corners tugging down.
"Fine. No eating, then. Best to save room for dinner, anyway." You lean in, lips brushing his with a teasing smile. He busies two of his arms with straightening the inkwell and his half-full page of hemp paper – the third props himself up, and the last is wrapped possessively around your shoulders. "Perhaps you can sate another hunger of mine, beloved? I'll accept it as an apology for denying me a proper meal."
"Apology—?" he snarls, head whipping towards you. He glares. "What am I apologising for, you insolent fox—"
He is sufficiently silenced by a kiss.
You are not rough in the traditional sense. Just... bitey. Your canines dig into his lower lip, breaking skin, and he grunts softly as your tongue glides over the slick, coppery blood, pushing it into his mouth. He can feel your smile as you lick his tongue.
You part with a quiet smack, twisting in his hold to settle between his sturdy thighs. You press your forehead against his, stealing fleeting kisses between groans that seem to leave him more breathless than not.
"I know my lord is a generous and compassionate man," you murmur, your chest brushing his. "Sate my hunger. Offer me salvation."
Bare skin to bare skin, he can feel the strength taut in your muscles, the easy steadiness of your body. Despite your preference for twice as much fabric as necessary and all things shiny and luxurious, you are, at heart, just as much a fighter as he. Foxes are still predators, regardless of their glossy coats.
"Am I?" Sukuna nearly growls. His hand around your shoulders lifts to the nape of your neck, closing around delicate bone and muscle. He pulls you closer with a jerk, fingers digging into the soft spot beneath the corner of your jaw. His eyes roam your features, his blood tinting your grinning lips rosy. "Maddening pest. Think you can tell me what to do? You belong to me."
"Naturally," you reply with that same smile. "You always give in, anyway. Rather embarrassing, isn't it? A big, strong man like yourself, bending over backwards to please this little fox... or bending forwards, really. You're obsessed with me."
Nothing about you is little. You're the only thing he's ever met able to look him in the eye.
Sometimes he thinks you hover a few inches off the ground when you stand next to him, just so he has to tilt his head up to meet your playful gaze. But it isn't like he has any real proof; your robes obscure your feet, and you are constantly moving, fluttering about his shoulders in those ridiculous clothes, so it's difficult to get an accurate reading. It isn't as if you'd ever tell him, either.
"Come, now," you purr, fingers dipping into his stomach mouth again. It immediately licks your fingers inward, pulling them closer. "Ah... At least some part of you wants me. I'd almost resigned myself to using my own hand to get off."
His grip tightens around your neck. His eyes flash. "You will not. Your pleasure belongs to me."
"Yes, yes, as always. But you weren't giving me many options, my lord." You pout, stroking the tongue lapping contentedly at your hand. "Why can't you be more like this one? It's always happy to see me. You just call me names."
"That is also part of me, fox." Two of his eyes flicker down to it, watching the way you caress even his most monstrous parts with the same affection you offer the rest of him. Something unsettling curls around his heart. "Its sentiments are my own."
Your smile brightens. "Oh, I knew you loved me, Sukuna! Even if you'd rather pull out your own teeth than admit it."
He rolls his eyes and grabs you with two arms, another pulling at your sash and loosening it. You wear nothing beneath – typical of you, greedy creature – and your cock bobs as he releases it from its confines. He hums, low and rumbly in his chest.
Spitting in his hand, he grabs it and begins to stroke you, all four eyes trained on the pleased expression on your face. You thrust into his palm, one of your hands lifting to cup his thick chest and squeezing. Your saliva-slick thumb rolls over his tawny nipple, pinching and tugging, and you swallow his groan, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.
You nibble at his neck, sucking bruises into his tanned skin. He twists his wrist, his hand heavy with the weight of you. The size is nothing to scoff at. When he glances up, you're already looking at him, smirking knowingly. He scoffs and rolls his eyes, pumping you faster, tugging roughly at the sensitive skin. Your smile falls as you whine pitifully, hips jolting forward. Your thick tip leaks.
"Sukunaaa," you gripe, "not so rough..."
"Shut up." His grip tightens as you groan directly into his ear, hot breaths fanning his neck. His skin prickles, a warm shiver threatening his perfect poise as you moan his name in a lazy drawl. His breathing grows heavy. "You... wanted this."
"So cruel." Suddenly, you press against him, closing the distance between your torso and his. You gaze through half-lidded eyes as you rut against the heat of his body, your tip brushing the lips of his grinning stomach. It opens wide, waiting.
He glares at you. Gently, you lean in, threading your fingers through his hair. You mouth at his jawline, tracing a path up, and you smile at the way his lips part naturally. You kiss him, feather-light.
Finally, mutely, he lets go of your cock, and you are free to move. He rests back on two hands, his thighs like iron around you as you press your hips forward into the mouth of his stomach. It closes immediately around you, more eager than you are, and its wide tongue laps at your length as you lazily fuck into it.
Sukuna's breath hitches violently. He tips his head back slightly but his eyes never leave yours, his expression as impenetrable as stone.
You shift, throwing your legs over his to straddle him. His eyes widen slightly as you push your cock deeper into the furnace-like heat of him, his muscles tensing under your touch. Your balls smack his stomach-mouth's lower lip as you grip his shoulder, your robes slipping around your broad shoulders. Thick muscle ripples beneath your skin as you lower your forehead to press against his.
"Good boy," you husk, fingers tightening in his hair. He couldn't pull away if he wanted to. "That feels good, doesn't it?"
Two of his hands shoot up to grip your waist as you stuff your cock deep inside him, reaching the spongy back of his second mouth. His lips part, eyes fluttering against his will, and you chuckle as he fumbles with your clothes, pulling them away from your thighs so they don't get in the way. He's careful to keep his sharp teeth away, and his lips keep a tight suction around your thick cock. His palm ghosts over your chest and stomach, almost reverential. His eyes are dark as they take in the sight of your length vanishing into him.
You croon as you yank his hair, forcing him to look at you rather than your dick. "Answer me, my lord. Does this feel good? Is it my cock that makes your cheeks flush so?"
His teeth bare in a snarl as you cup his hot face, but it's all posturing. He swallows his insults, knowing you are just as petty and would happily force him to sit there and watch as you stroked yourself to completion.
"Yes," he mutters.
You cock your head. "What was that? I couldn't quite hear you."
Your dick slams into him. He lets out a low growl. "Yes!" he snarls, his bruising strength on your hips making your skin dip. His long nails dig into your skin. "Fuck!"
His arm threatens to buckle under his weight. His second mouth isn't meant for this sort of thing – it sucks and slobbers on your cock messily, less coordinated than the one on his face. Or maybe it's just as coordinated but it feels too good – making him lose his mind, turning him into a greedy, cock-obsessed whore. It salivates, strings of drool connecting your cock to his lips, as he buries his head in your shoulder. Soft, heavy grunts escape him with every rough thrust, deep oval rolls of your hips making his stomach tense up.
"Good answer," you whisper, amused. He shudders almost imperceptibly as you grab his chin and tilt his head up to meet your loving gaze. "Don't hide, Sukuna. I want to watch you while I use you."
He bares sharp teeth, face twisted in a grimace. "Whatever. Just finish quickly. I have other things to do."
"Like what?" You withdraw slightly, wrapping a hand around your length and stroking lazily. His fingers dig into your skin, slipped beneath your many layers and preventing you from backing up any farther. You smile as you lower your forehead to his, your hair a curtain of privacy around you – that smile is sickeningly fond. You murmur, "I don't think you're busy at all. I think you just want me to fight for your attention – as you do for mine."
You're either very trusting or very stupid when you push your cock back into the mouth of his stomach. He considers it for a split second. The idea is simple – bite down and you'll stop goading him. But then he thinks about your easily-given affection, and he thinks about difficult bloodstains in your white sleeves, and he discards the idea entirely.
Two of his hands travel up your sides – cupping your ribs, callused fingertips bumping up your spine. He watches silently, enraptured, as your body moves with more urgency. All that beauty collides with a physical superiority that he cannot ignore. Your hand in his hair stops him from looking away – you're barely trying, too busy chasing pleasure like the gluttonous thing you are, but he really does have to work to even tilt his head down.
Not that he'd want to look away, anyway. Perhaps it was a shame you were a curse, invisible to most humans – you could solve ten wars by supper with a face like that.
Or maybe it was better this way. More of you is his alone.
His muscles flex under his skin as you press deeper with a rumbled groan, your seed spilling across the mouth's slick tongue. It devours you, tongue swirling around your length, mouth hot and sloppy and oh-so starved. You close your eyes and sink into the furnace-warmth of his embrace, threateningly close to burning – close, but never there.
"How does it feel?" you murmur breathlessly, ever-curious about his physiology. Most of the time he dismisses your questions with a grunt, but sometimes, when he's softer, he'll divulge an answer or two. Now, as he stares unblinkingly up at you with lidded crimson eyes, you figure he's the latter.
Sukuna's lips part as he closes his arms around you, pulling you closer against him. He rests his head against your shoulder, the slope of his nose pressed against the side of your neck, and releases a heavy exhale that's more like a groan. His grip tightens on you as your tip rubs the soft back of his mouth with a particularly desirous thrust.
"Deep," he rumbles, tone brusque. He licks his lips, pressing them against the skin of your collarbone. "Very deep."
"Good?" you ask, tilting your head to allow him better access. Wordlessly, his teeth sink into your flesh to satiate his instinct to gnaw and gnash, but not enough to break skin. White clothes, still worn.
"Yes." His sharp nails leave marks in your skin. "Acceptable."
You laugh and kiss him hard. You cup his cheek – the side with the bony growths, the monstrous eyes – and pull him deeper into the kiss, stroking the thick dark line across his bicep and eventually the daintier ones along his jaw. You kiss him with both hands on his cheeks like some delicate thing you aren't, and his skin prickles as if licked by fire.
Lazily, the mouth of his stomach laps up your come, its lips and tongue glazed in a thick white gloss. It dribbles down his lower stomach, soaking into the waist of his dark hakama. You drag your fingers through the sticky mess, coating them in it, and press two fingers into his mouth – the one on his face.
He takes them without complaint, a low rumble escaping him, and he curls his tongue neatly to lick up every drop. You press against his teeth, his tongue, stroking the delicate back of his throat, but your beloved is second to none and he doesn't so much as twitch, let alone gag. You pull them away with a slick pop and you chuckle affectionately as he stares up at you, his chest rising and falling shallowly.
He licks his lips, shining with saliva. "My turn."
He tosses you to the floor – you go down easily, a smile on your face as you gaze up at him, haloed by your own hair. He throws a leg over your middle and leans down to kiss you. He grabs your neck instead of cupping your cheek, but for him, they're one and the same.
Two of his hands tear off his trousers. Properly, too – none of that awkward shimmying, nor the time-wasting stepping-out of trouser legs. Sukuna, as he does a lot of things, does it brutishly: two handfuls of cloth yanked in opposite directions. The fabric comes apart as easily as paper.
You tut, though you can't help appreciating every inch of skin revealed to you. Your hands roam down his waist to his massive thighs, grabbing and squeezing wolfishly as you go. "You will run out of clothes at this rate."
He cocks his head. "You would like that, wouldn't you?"
"Of course. Easier access."
He huffs, not quite a chuckle, as you grab his heavy cock and smear your own slick come against his skin. You stroke him languidly, being polite – for once – by not mentioning how wet he already is when all you've done is use him. "You are a dog."
"Fox," you correct, watching hungrily as he tugs off his haori and tosses it aside. "As you are fond of reminding me."
"In spirit," he concedes, not quite agreeing. He places his hands near your head, and despite his barbaric nature, he is careful not to pin down your hair. He reaches down between his thighs and lines up your cock with his entrance, though you are quick to grab his wrist.
"No oil?" you ask, lifting a brow.
Impatiently, one of his hands brushes you off. "Do not tell me what to do."
Without another word – without fanfare, without flourish – he sinks hilt-deep onto your cock.
Your eyes slide shut as you smack your head against the floor, the sheer heat of him threatening to melt you. Your hands slide higher, brushing his lower set of pectoral muscles. Lost in the bliss of his body, it takes you a moment to register his own hand lifting to grab yours. He holds your palm against his chest as he begins to move, the solid weight of his body dropping again and again onto your lap.
He would not be Sukuna if he were not gluttonous. So, he holds you, rides you, and leans down to kiss you, all at once – and you do nothing to encourage moderation. You entwine your fingers with his, caress his waist, and nip at his lower lip to provoke him into giving you more.
More. It was always more with you. More, more, more…
The suffocating heat of his body is nothing new. You have taken him a thousand times, but you'll never grow tired of it. He is addictive, and you should be pleased you are the only thing his blood has ever run hot for. No concubine has made him feel the way you do.
He grinds onto your cock, the heavy muscle of his thighs clenching around your hips. You throb inside him, sticky precome slicking up his insides and easing his movements. You lick your lips as you grab his thigh, fingers bruising his skin as you grip him and roll his ass deeper onto your cock. You even use the shallow lift of his hips to make the next thrust harder, rougher, deeper.
His heavy cock jolts, slapping your stomach wetly. You grin with sharp teeth as you wrap your hand around it once more, pumping his length from root to tip in time with every roll of his hips. He hisses as a thick bead of liquid dribbles down his glans. His tip is dark red, and you press your thumb into the slit of it, smearing his slick down his pulsing length.
You stroke him faster, making him grunt. He chases your hand, his own tightening into fists near your head. His sharp nails dig into his palms, drawing blood.
What a silly little dear he is. Four hands and not one of them feels as good as yours around his cock.
He pants and growls as he bounces in your lap, muscles flexing as he slams harder onto your fat cock. The wet sounds of your cock squelching in his ass, of his skin meeting yours, are obscene and violent – perfect for a man like him. Hot pleasure shudders up his spine as your cock kisses that spot inside him which makes his dick pulse hotly, a spurt of partially-clear liquid shooting across your knuckles. You smirk as you swipe it up and smear it down his length. Your thumb rolls over his slit and drags down the prominent vein on the underside roughly, as if you're trying to smooth it flat.
He drops his hips, putting his full weight on your cock. He rocks back and forth. You drag your lower lip between your teeth as you toss your head back, and your groan of pleasure sinks into his brain like your claws into flesh. His dick twitches, his balls tightening as he watches your heaving chest and gazes into your dilated pupils.
"You ride cock like a seasoned whore, my lord," you whisper, chuckling as he clenches around you in annoyance. "Nowhere else can I find someone who takes it as easily as you do."
He clicks his tongue, squeezing punishingly around you. You grunt as his tight, gummy walls stroke your slick cock. "Of course I am the only one. You are twice the size of a man. Your cock would break them."
You smile up at him, your eyes half-lidded. "Wouldn't that be fun?"
His eyes flash. His lips curl into a sneer as he leans down to wrap his hand around your throat, nails digging into your skin.
"You have me," he growls, grip tightening. "Speak nothing of others."
He would pulverise bone had you been weaker, but as it stands, all it does is pin you down, the warmth of his palm against your skin making your cheeks heat up. You bite back a smile. You adore it when he glares at you. There's a red flush to his cheeks that he steadfastly ignores.
You squeeze his ass, hand roaming back over his thigh. Playfully, you pinch the thick black line circling his leg. "Is my lord jealous?"
He bares his teeth with a low growl that sounds more animal than man. Your cock throbs. His glare deepens.
You smirk, smug as always, and go as far as to slap his ass, which makes him jolt in shock as the sound cracks like a whip in the room. His glare returns, this time with a roll of all four of his eyes, and he presses you punishingly into the tatami mats. His hole, hot and slick, swallows your cock with ease.
"Fox," he hisses.
"My lord," you reply with a smile. "You're close, aren't you? I can feel your pace slipping."
"Do not test my patience. I will leave you here with nothing."
The threat is an empty one – you know he desires this as much as you. The mouth of his stomach drools, thick and wet, as your cock punches so deep he swears he can feel it at the back of his throat. You both know he would never leave you unattended when he could watch himself be your undoing.
Despite it, Sukuna looks pleased with himself when you offer a begrudging silence. His stomach mouth grins widely as your dick pulses with newfound hunger. Your eyes slide shut as your cock carves a path through the slick heat of his insides, again and again, until his body learns your shape. Your tip leaks, thick and sticky, and he lets out a harsh exhale, his own cockhead dripping with every pump of your hand.
He chases the slick ring of your fist, his low grunts mixing with your unabashed groans as he rides you closer and closer to your shared climaxes.
He barely blinks as he watches your high peak – he has to swallow roughly before he salivates like some barbarian. Your come bursts creamy and thick inside him, hot as lava, and heat rushes up from his chest to his head as he admires the way you groan his name and thrust up sloppily into him. All that natural grace of yours is tainted with the pleasure you take in his body – you are unwound, undone, by a savage like him.
Then you flip him over, throwing him to the floor as if he weighs nothing. He lands with a huff, opening his mouth to complain, but his words die in his mouth as you begin to drill into him, burying your head in his neck and breathing him deep. Every slick clap of skin on skin has your seed leaking out of his stretched hole, white and creamy, and it smears his ass and thighs with each brutal thrust of your hips.
He lets out a sound like a cornered animal. "Fox," he snarls, nails tearing at the floor as your cock demands every lick of his attention. He struggles to keep his voice even. "You – hah – you damned insatiable fox—"
"Insatiable?" you purr. "You haven't come yet. I'm being a good husband and making sure you do."
His hole slurps you up like some vulgar pussy. The filthy volume of come inside him makes every pump of your hips sound like you're in a brothel. Your claws sink into the meat of his ass as you fold him up – crimson blood beads along his skin, and he twitches as your teeth part skin and muscle to mark up the side of his throat. You pull back with a breathless groan that settles deep into his ear, listening to the slick churning of your scarlet tongue as you lick his blood from your teeth and lips.
You dive in again but he tangles his hand in a fistful of your hair, halting you half an inch from his scalding skin. You growl, eyes gleaming, with teeth stained red.
He jolts as your cock slams into his abused prostate, barely able to subdue his shout into a low moan.
"White," he mutters, jaw clamping to silence himself. "No chewing."
Your lips press together in a pout but you settle for lapping at the bite mark, your hips pumping hungrily against his ass. You suppose he's right – taking a chunk out of him always makes you surprised at the amount of blood that spurts out, no matter how many times you do it. But he just bleeds so beautifully – you can hardly control yourself.
Your head is foggy with lust. You press yourself into him, burying your face in the other side of his neck so you aren't tempted to take a quick bite. You leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses up his jaw, lips brushing the black markings that decorate his honeyed skin.
"Sukuna," you breathe, two of your fingers pushing into the mouth of his stomach. You can still feel the creaminess of your own release on its lips. You stroke its tongue and a low, magnificently beastly sound escapes him as his head tips back. The bite mark on his neck bleeds more profusely, pulsing in time with his quickened heartbeat.
"Don't—" He groans as you push one thigh higher, pinning it to your shoulder. It is heavy, with muscle like steel. "Slow—"
"What was that?" You drag your inhumanly long tongue against his calf with a wicked grin, leaning forward. He grits his teeth at the vulnerability of the position. "'Slow down', did you say? Can't my king handle a little roughhousing?"
His cock twitches visibly at the title. You laugh at him, your pace never slacking, and you press a kiss to his calf on your shoulder.
"You're holding back," you say, amused. You angle your hips, thrusting up to kiss that sweet spot inside him, and you delight in the way his back arches for half a second before he corrects himself and glares at you. "My lord, it'll be easier on you if you come. I'll stop trying so hard."
"Shut it."
He hates the way you use his hard-won titles like pet names. Such little respect. If you were anyone else, you'd be cleaved into tiny cubes before you could finish laughing, but then he would have no dancer and his days in your forest would be silent and boring.
You press your finger to his leaking slit. He clenches his jaw. Stubborn. Still, his swollen cock jolts as you grind into him, adjusting yourself above him to fuck him harder, deeper – one way or another, you'll get it out of him.
Suddenly, your pace quickens, and the sound echoes off the walls. The weight behind every thrust jostles his body and he curses you like a war cry, two of his hands grabbing you as the other two hold him up. You lick your lips at the sight of his flushed skin and the sweat beginning to collect at his temple and across his collarbones.
You can't help it. You swoop down and drag your tongue over his chest, and the tang of his sweat mixing with blood makes your head spin with desire. He groans, deep and throaty. Your hips clap against his ass hard enough to make him shout out, and as your teeth sink into the unmarred side of his neck and bite all the way down, he comes with a humiliated, thunderous roar.
You moan desperately into his skin as you follow him over the edge, his clenching insides achingly hot and tight. You fill him up with lazy thrusts, and he twists his hand in your hair so hard you feel lightheaded. He yanks you off his bleeding neck with a growl – you hang from his fist with a drunken grin and ruby-stained teeth, your jaw working slowly. Blood drips down your chin.
He can feel the cold sting of the air against his exposed meat and veins, a neat little scoop taken out of his shoulder. It annoys him that his cock throbs at the feeling, and his chest heaves as he pushes your grinning face away. His face is hot.
"You… Tch. I told you not to chew," he grumbles, healing it with a roll of his massive shoulder. He goes to wipe off the blood dripping down his chest but you beat him to it, cleaning him up with your tongue. You use the moment to mouth at his nipple, tongue laving across it, and pop off before he can smack you away.
You chuckle as your tongue slides over your front teeth, your voice rich and husky. You wipe your chin, smearing it. "But you liked it, Sukuna. It pulled such pretty sounds out of you."
"I—" He clicks his tongue, breath catching slightly as you pull your cock out of him with a slick, sticky pop. His thighs twitch as you grab his messy length and coat your fingers in his release, pumping him twice before lifting your hand and admiring the white glaze sticking between your fingers. He watches silently as you push two fingers into your mouth with a pleased groan, then lap up the rest when it drips down your wrist.
"Finish your sentences, my lord," you tease, tossing his own words back into his face. He rolls his eyes as you pause to suck your ring finger clean. "Maybe I should bite you more often. You taste like bliss. Come, now – tell me how much you enjoyed that."
Chest still heaving, Sukuna sits up straighter, widening his legs to fit you comfortably between his thighs. You kneel there – lazy, satisfied, practically glowing. Your robes pool around you like scattered starlight as you wait for his answer.
"You are impertinent, troublesome, and spoilt," he sighs, voice a low rumble. "But fine. Yes, I enjoyed it. No, you will not do it again. Today."
You wilt like an abandoned flower. "Why?"
He rolls his eyes and pulls you into his arms, heavy and possessive. He reaches up and swipes his thumb over a trickle of blood from the corner of your mouth, and you press your lips to the pad of his finger, licking it up. "There is blood on your clothes."
You glance down to where he points at your sleeve. Your eyes widen and Sukuna braces himself. On cue, you grab his arm and begin to complain directly into his ear, nails digging into his freshly-healed shoulder.
"Sukuna – what is wrong with your body? Why does it bleed so much? My sleeve was nowhere near your neck! Look at what you've done – do you know how hard it is to ensure the cloth washes white and not pink? You ask so much of me – entertain you, keep this estate hidden, smith you a dozen weapons from myths and fables – which is ridiculous, I say, do you know how difficult it is to create cursed tools? – and all I ask in return is to not bleed on me, yet here you are, bleeding on me, like some—"
You are cut off with his lips on yours. You stiffen slightly in surprise, then melt into it, leaning in and tilting your head. He groans softly as your tongue curls with his, your hand lifting to twist in his hair. You smooth it off his forehead, tracing his hairline with a light touch, and he pulls you closer with three hands. The last one cups your hand on his face.
He pulls away to breathe. You sit back on your heels, pupils swallowing up the gold of your irises. You blink slowly as you steal another kiss, lips smacking halfway to indecency again. He leans back before you can drown yourself in him and try to push him back to the floor – a very unseemly place to do such things, in his opinion.
He lifts a brow. "Calm, yet?" he asks, absently pulling the collar of your robes over your shoulder.
"Enough," you acquiesce, watching him move over to grab his discarded haori near his table. He shrugs it on, his lower pair of arms not letting go of your body. You smirk. So jealous, even when nothing threatens to take you away.
"That is better than nothing."
"Mm." You crawl closer and walk your fingers up his arm. "Write me a poem, beloved."
His eyes snap up. He bares his teeth in a sneer that does nothing to dissuade you. His grip tightens on your hip. "What?"
"A poem," you say with infinite patience. "Whichever type you prefer. I know you enjoy praising me through poetry – my face, my sorcery, how I 'revel in the fires of your chaos'! Oh, yes, I've read a few of those volumes you've made, pushed to the back of your drawers." You smile, a dark edge to it, as you meet his glare unflinchingly. "This time, I want no secrecy – I want to observe your artistic process. Perhaps I will forgive you for staining my clothes if it is sufficiently flattering."
"Why are you rummaging through my quarters?" he scoffs. "Those poems are not for you."
"So you say. You refer to me in everything but name. If you truly wanted to keep them secret, you would've burnt them." You shift to sit beside him, leaning forward to pull the paper and inkwell towards the edge of the table. "Go on. Write."
He rolls his eyes. He adjusts to sit sprawled, lazy, one arm resting upon his knee and two around you. It brings a smile to your face. He was always terribly voracious for your attention, like a feral animal you feed once and cannot escape. No matter how he feels, no matter the company, he would always bend to your whim.
You grab his thigh, pawing at the meat of him like a kneading cat, and you almost laugh aloud when he pointedly tosses the hem of his haori over his cock. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck, sliding your palm up to the crease of his thigh, and cast your gaze down to the paper, the poem from earlier half-complete.
"'Kitsunebi'?" you muse, tilting your head. "Foxfire. Not for me, you said?"
He exhales sharply, shooting you a warning glance. In response, you pluck the brush from its resting place and smile sweetly as you grab his hand and push it into his palm.
How ridiculous it is that he must hide his belongings in his own home. The logical thing to do would be to rid himself of you and your curiosity. Instead, he simply lowers his gaze and rolls the brush tip in the black ink.
—
When Sukuna opens his eyes from the kiss, you have already begun to pull away, to step back – and he is reminded of his physical limitations once more.
"Greedy," you chuckle, swiping your thumb over your lower lip. "Go now – let the boy have his body back. Perhaps I will see you again. Follow my foxes; they will lead you to me."
Something compels him to speak. "And you?" he murmurs lowly. "I refuse to waste my time searching for a dead spirit."
Will you be safe? The question is unsaid but clear as day. You hum.
"If I can hide from you, I can hide from anyone. Rest assured, no one but you will ever spill my blood." You step behind him, pushing him towards the school campus. "And… Sukuna?"
"What?"
"I really did miss you."
He turns, but in your place is a nine-tailed white fox, silent and watchful. Your ears flick. After a lingering second, you rise from your haunches, curling around him and batting his side with your tails, before slipping away and leaping into the treeline to vanish completely into the forest's shadows.
His skin prickles with the fading remnants of your cursed energy. He clicks his tongue, jaw clenching. Your cloak will not last much longer, and he can sense the brat waking up. He presses his fingers to his lips, savouring the memory of your sharp, sweet warmth.
He closes his eyes, already feeling his control over his incumbent vessel lapsing. He spends his last moments of autonomy replaying the moment his lips touched yours, a moment a thousand years in the making.
Moonlit silk, ribbons of stars, a smile sharp enough to cleave bone. The world fades to soundless oblivion.
