“I've been thinking about a Heian-era AU with Kyubi and both Sukuna and Gojo, but I've run into one major problem: I cannot, for the life of me, figure out how to make Sukuna and Gojo tolerate each other long enough for the poly to function.”
Amee…. I am screaming at this idea, like genuinely upset that there’s not a whole book out for this already 😭😭 THIS WOULD BE SO FANTASTIC AND I KNOW YOU HAVE A LOT ON YOUR PLATE BUT HOLYYYYYY FREAK YOU ARE A GENIUS
Okay okay how about this?
Just imagine: Gojo, feudal lord of some absurdly wealthy province, rides up to this remote mountain temple because everyone's been talking about the mysterious new guardian spirit of Hida. Maybe he wants her alliance for political reasons. Maybe he just wants to make sure she isn't secretly some malevolent spirit terrorizing the countryside. Naturally, he assumes he's about to meet some elegant immortal woman draped in white silk who only speaks in cryptic poetry.
The temple attendants are already waiting for him at the gate, sweating profusely. Gojo assumes it's because they're intimidated by his status. Then he hears screaming. Exasperated screaming, the kind of screaming produced by someone who has been dealing with the same problem for years.
Gojo follows the commotion and discovers about ten shrine maidens gathered around a very tall tree. One is holding a ladder. One is holding a basket. One is crying. One is praying. The rest are arguing over whose turn it is to climb after her.
Above them, the legendary Kyubi of Hida is dangling upside down from a branch, holding a nest full of stolen bird eggs, while her hakama snagged on the branches.
Because she had spotted a bird's nest this morning and decided she wanted the eggs. And when several attendants reminded her that she was a deity and therefore did not need to steal eggs, she informed them that she knew that already but stealing them was more fun.
The shrine maidens are not worried she'll get hurt—she's a divine fox spirit—but they are worried about having to explain to everyone how their deity spent three hours stuck in a tree.
"Your Grace," one of them says weakly when she notices Gojo. "Please pretend you didn't see this."
At this point Gojo just stands there watching with his mouth agape. The first thought that enters his mind is: Oh. She's an idiot. The second is: She's beautiful. The third is: Oh no.
Now, if you've ever watched a historical C-drama, you already know what happens next.
The branch snaps. The shrine maidens scream. The basket holder drops the basket. The ladder falls over. Kyubi's plummeting toward the ground.
Gojo dives forward before he can think and catches her.
Cherry blossoms are blowing dramatically. The sunlight is perfect. The soundtrack is swelling. Their eyes meet. Destiny unfolds. Soulmates meet. The heavens rejoice.
(Cue several completely unnecessary spins through the air before they land because C-drama logic.)
Then Kyubi blinks and offers Gojo one egg as compensation for the rescue because she's learned humans generally expect payment for services rendered.
"For your troubles."
"…What?"
"You caught me."
"I did."
"The egg is payment."
Gojo looks, slightly cross-eyed, at the egg she's shoving into his face. Honestly, it's the most sincere thank-you gift he's received in years.
Unfortunately, that is the exact moment Sukuna appears. He storms out of the temple expecting to find one troublemaking fox. Instead he discovers:
Kyubi in a stranger's arms.
Her clothes rumpled, the front of her haori sagging very low.
Gojo smiling.
Kyubi smiling back.
The temperature in the entire mountain range drops twenty degrees. The shrine maidens begin praying.
"Explain," Sukuna says.
Kyubi beams at Sukuna. She launches herself out of Gojo's arms without warning. Gojo barely has time to process what happened before she's proudly presenting the remaining eggs to Sukuna like she's returned victorious from war.
Sukuna's murderous expression softens for approximately three seconds. Then he notices her chest is almost showing. His eye twitches. Off comes his haori. Around Kyubi it goes. Back comes the murderous expression.
Gojo, who has never backed down from anything in his life, smiles. Sukuna smiles back. The shrine maidens pray harder. One of them quietly starts writing her resignation letter.
Sukuna is about to challenge Gojo to a duel to the death when Kyubi grabs his sleeve.
"Uraume can make these eggs into custard, right?"
The duel is forgotten. The murder is postponed. Sukuna allows himself to be dragged away. Kyubi waves cheerfully over her shoulder. The shrine maiden trail after them, exhausted beyond mortal comprehension. Nobody says goodbye. Nobody explains anything.
Gojo is left standing alone in the courtyard, covered cherry blossom petals and holding a single egg, his heart stolen.
you could never get tired of admiring your husband heian era!sukuna ♡
most people couldn’t look at him for long.
the moment they caught sight of him, their eyes dart away. some out of fear, or some out of disgust. they believe a creature like him isn’t meant to be looked at.
you think they are all blind.
the evening is quiet, lantern light casting a warm glow across the room. it has become part of your nightly routine before bed, these quiet moments spent with your husband after the day has settled.
sukuna sits against the bed frame, one pair of arms folded while the other rests loosely across his lap.
his crimson eyes follow you as you crawl toward him. you sit down beside him and gently take one of his hands, then another.
his brows rise as he looks at you expectantly.
you compare them, turning them over in your palms. thick fingers, calloused skin, veins running beneath flesh capable of tearing apart crowds.
yet you trace them carefully, as if they are something precious.
“four arms..“ you murmur.
“you say that as if you’ve only just noticed,” he says, clicking his tongue after.
you move closer, inspecting the markings that wind around his skin. your fingertips follow the dark lines traveling over his wrist and shoulders.
“they’re beautiful.”
he looks at you, and you swear there’s a faint blush adoring his cheeks, even though he’s heard you say so many times before.
beautiful? no one has ever used that word for him before you.
you continue before he can respond.
your hand slides to his chest, tracing the markings there as well, and you can feel his gaze burning into you.
then your attention lowers— to the second mouth resting on his stomach. the feature that causes most people to recoil.
you start to lean forward, but sukuna’s eyes narrow. “what are you doing?”
“hm?”
his stomach mouth opens slightly, revealing sharp teeth, just to close again.
you examine it with genuine curiosity— it is quite the most strange part of him, and therefore something you want to understand even more.
without hesitation, you press a small kiss on top of it.
“…why are you looking at me like that?” you ask after coming back up.
for perhaps the first time in centuries, the king of curses looks genuinely caught off guard.
“what was that for?”
you tilt your head, and one of your hands come up to trace his lower lip.
“i do kiss these as well, no?”
a low, strange sound escapes him, a little similar to a low laugh.
you shift your attention upward again, this time toward the smaller eyes beneath his main pair.
you‘ve always found them quite interesting.
carefully, you brush your thumb beneath one. “so you can see from them as well?”
“obviously.”
you continue to examine him shamelessly.
the shape of his face, then the markings crossing his cheeks. the extra eyes.. the sharp angles of his features.
every detail. every part others fear— you love looking at them, love memorizing them.
when you finally look up, sukuna is already looking at you, a little amusement written over his expression.
“what’s so amusing?” you ask.
two of his hands rise, and two large palms settle against your cheeks. the contrast between his size and yours is almost comical.
“just why are you so different?” his thumb brushes across your cheek.
for a moment, neither of you speaks, then you lean forward and kiss one of the markings on his face.
“wouldn’t be here if i was like everyone else, hm?” you reason.
Nerdjo who wants to recreate his…dirty manga with you. And he’s inexperienced, okay?! Give him a break, so what if he wants to recreate some sort of twisty position or heats or that ahegao face…Nerdjo who gets interested in one concept in particular—squirting. And he tells you with a blushing face n’ wobbly smile that he wants to try this one out next. Nerdjo who doesn’t realize that he’s going to be the one squirting after you ruthIessly ride him for a few rounds nonstop.
꒰꒰ 𓏼 ❤︎ satoru’s got a crush on the new english teacher ! ꒱
when satoru heard that there would be a new staff member joining the jujutsu high faculty team, he was ecstatic. that was one more person on his roster to annoy to death—lovingly, of course.
what he wasn’t expecting was, well, you. a pretty foreigner. not that he thought all foreigners weren’t attractive—he wasn’t that shallow… there was just something different about you. the same careful patience you showed his students, the way you actually listened to every word they said, everyone equally worthy of your praise and attention.
he adored it. so from that moment on he decided—on a whim—he was going to pursue you. only after a month or two of beating around the bush.
now, satoru knew english. but only a little bit—“enough to get by,” the kind you pick up without trying. not the “properly confess my undying devotion to this woman and make her my future wife” kind.
at first, he’d throw in random words whenever talking to you. a (cute) sorry attempt to impress you: “sumimasorry!”, “arigathanks!”, “arigato gozaimuch!”
sure, it made you giggle. but he wanted to show you he was serious about starting something with you... despite the teeny tiny language barrier.
so, he’d stay up late practicing english phrases to tell you whenever you walked by:
“you are… pretty,” he tried under his breath, frowning. no. too formal.
“you are very pretty.”
still too stiff.
something was missing. an adverb. should it be super pretty? too pretty? always pretty? he could die.
“you’re… really pretty?” he tried again, slower this time, the words foreign on his tongue but still, he thought that it should work perfect!
he mapped it all out, first he’d wait outside your classroom — in a non-creepy way of course. then, he’d compliment you! and if, only if, (which you totally should??) reciprocate his whimsy, will he take it forward.
11:29 AM . . . 12 hours after as his rehearsal. location: west wing of jujutsu high.
just as he planned, you were about to walk past him like usual, on your way to your 12pm english, completely unaware of the fact that he had been mentally rehearsing this exact moment for hours. except when you looked at him, he forgot every single version of the phrase he had practiced.
for a split second, there was nothing in his head except static and the very annoying fact that you were standing there, in the flesh… his dream girl.
“… pretty!” he blurted out.
his brain caught up late. “i mean— you’re very pretty. like—uh—really!”
“oh… thank you, gojo!” you hummed softly, a small smile still lingering on your face as you passed him, the soft smell of your perfume following behind you, making his brain go all fuzzy.
“wait!”
“hm?” you turned around, blinking at him, eyes soft and wide. he held your gaze, still annoyingly confident on the outside, but melting just as equally from within.
“…do you… want to go out with me?”
you tilted your head slightly, suddenly surprised by his declaration, a soft giggle escaping you. “…go out?” you repeated softly, making his heart pound in his chest.
“yeah,” he said, a little quieter now. “with… me.”
then you smiled—soft and gentle, but not the way you always smiled at yuuji and the others. this one somehow felt… more intimate. or maybe he was imagining things (he wasn’t).
“i would love that…” you spoke, voice soft and quiet.
and just like that, satoru gojo, the strongest of today, forgot how to breathe.
“…cool, nice nice nice...” he managed, way too late, stuffing his hands into his pockets. an idiot.
you hummed again, adjusting your papers. “i can’t wait!” and just like that, you were gone—sliding the classroom door open, letting it shut behind you with a small thud.
he finally let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding.
and then—
“YAY! YAYAYAY!!!” — actively doing some stupid celebratory ritual without shame.
“uh..what’s wrong with gojo sensei…” itadori mumbled from a distance, on his way to said 12 o’clock english class.
“oh, gojo? he’s just like that,” megumi replied flatly.
heian era!sukuna who’s head over heels for you, a low-level sorcerer.
fluff
if the grand, terrifying king of curses were an ordinary man, the local villagers would have long since branded him a pathetic, lovesick nuisance and chased him out of the province with pitchforks.
unfortunately for the peace of the mortal realm, he was not an ordinary man, but a four-armed natural disaster currently enduring the spiritual equivalent of a toddler’s temper tantrum because his preferred human refused to look at his latest offering.
uraume stood in the corner of the reception hall, looking three seconds away from crying tears of exhaustion. they had spent the last forty-eight hours tracking down a mythical, glowing lotus that only bloomed on the highest peak of a treacherous northern mountain—a flower said to grant eternal youth or some other useless nonsense—only for sukuna to take it, squint at it, and toss it onto the pile of junk currently swallowing your small living quarters.
“i have nowhere to put this,” you said, gesturing wildly to the mountain of opulence overflowing from your tatami mats. “sukuna, there is a literal hoard of gold coins blocking my sliding door. if there’s a fire, i’ll perish. i’ll be crushed by ancient currency. is that your grand plan? assassination by wealth?”
he didn’t even blink. he was sprawled across his throne, chin resting heavily in his lower left palm, his gaze glued to you with the kind of intense, suffocating focus usually reserved for a scientist studying a microscopic anomaly. if you moved left, his four eyes tracked left. if you breathed a little too loudly, his ears twitched. he looked entirely bored, yet so deeply entangled in your existence that if you suddenly vanished, the sheer force of his withdrawal would probably rip a hole in the fabric of reality.
“then burn the gold,” he rumbled, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that rattled the sake cups on the table. “or use it to pave the dirt road outside. i don’t care what becomes of it, so long as it sits within your line of sight.”
“it’s blocking my view of the garden!” you thrown your hands up, exasperated but entirely unafraid. anyone else would have been flayed alive for raising their voice to him, but you had quickly realized that you held a bizarre, absolute immunity. you could have slapped his face with a wet fish and he would have simply asked if you wanted a larger fish to finish the job. “and what is this? why did you bring me a third cursed spear? i’m just a minor sorcerer, sukuna. i don’t use spears. I barely use a knife to chop vegetables. what am i supposed to do with a weapon that carries a generational curse of bloodlust? stir my soup?”
a tiny, terrifying smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. he found your indignation utterly intoxicating. he liked the way your eyes narrowed, the way your voice hit that specific, indignant octave, and the fact that you looked at him—a literal god of calamity—as if he were nothing more than an inconveniently large stray dog that kept dragging dead birds onto your porch.
“it pleases me to give it to you,” he stated plainly, as if that explained the absolute geopolitical chaos he had caused by wiping out an entire clan just to steal their family heirloom. “therefore, you will keep it. put it under your futon.”
“it glows in the dark!” you countered, crossing your arms. “it keeps me awake! and speaking of things i do not want…” you pointed a accusatory finger at a breathtaking, blood-red kimono draped over a nearby chest. the silk was so fine it looked like liquid fire, woven with real gold thread and blessed with protective enchantments that could stop a meteor. “i told you, i’m not wearing that. it looks like it belongs to an empress, and i’m just trying to clean the dust out of my kitchen.”
sukuna’s eyes narrowed slightly, a low growl humming in his chest. he didn't like the word ‘no’ from anyone else, but from you, it was a challenge that made his (?) heart thud against his ribs like a trapped bird.
in a blur of movement too fast for human eyes to register, he was off his throne. before you could even register the sudden shift in the room’s air pressure, two large, tattooed arms wrapped firmly around your waist, lifting you effortlessly from the tatami mats.
“hey—!” you gasped, your protest cut short as he dumped you unceremoniously onto his massive lap, his chest a solid, radiating wall of heat against your back.
“you talk too much,” he murmured against the shell of your ear, his breath hot and sending a sudden, involuntary shiver down your spine.
while his primary set of arms locked you securely against him, pinning your hands down so you couldn’t bat him away, his secondary pair of arms reached out, snagging the heavy red kimono from the chest with effortless grace. he didn’t care that he was wrinkling a priceless historical artifact; he only cared about wrapping you in it like a prized pastry.
“sukuna, let go, you boulder of a man—” you squirmed, your elbows digging into his ribs, but it was like trying to fight a mountain.
“hush,” he commanded, though there was zero venom in it. his lower hands worked with surprising, meticulous gentleness, draping the heavy fabric over your shoulders, smoothing down the lapels, and pulling the rich silk tight against your frame. he was entirely clumsy at normal courtship, treating it like a tactical military conquest, but his devotion was so loud it was practically deafening.
he buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, his sharp teeth grazing your skin just enough to leave a tingling sensation but never hard enough to break it. his grip tightened, a desperate, possessive hum vibrating through his muscles.
“you think you have a choice in this?” he whispered, his voice dropping into a dark, velvety timbre that made your stomach do a frantic backflip. “if i must burn down the capital just to find a color that matches your eyes, i will do it by nightfall. you will wear my gifts, you will sit on my lap, and you will allow me to provide for you. do you understand me?”
you let out a soft, defeated sigh, your body naturally melting back against his broad chest despite your earlier complaints. your fingers reached up, resting over his massive forearm, feeling the steady, rhythmic thumping of his pulse.
“you’re entirely ridiculous,” you mumbled, a small, helpless smile finally breaking through your faux annoyance. “the capital has very nice architecture. please leave it alone.”
sukuna let out a low, rumbling laugh that vibrated straight into your bones, his four arms holding you so securely against him that the rest of the world simply ceased to exist. “we shall see,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head with a tenderness that would have terrified uraume, entirely content to hold you captive in his arms for the rest of eternity.
sukuna has no idea how he got this far. he remembers you dodging his advances like bullets the past few months, and now he’s underneath you, your plush thighs wrapped around his waist, his cock buried in your soaking cunt, his bedroom silent except the wet squelches and sukuna’s moans.
“look at you, ryo, yer so pathetic” you spat out almost condescendingly, your voice dripping in honey before you lift yourself up and slam your weight against his cock again.
“please.”
“please what, kuna? use your words.”
you were killing him. you knew exactly how badly he wanted you, and god did you know how to take advantage of it.
he’s been dreaming of this for almost months now, the sheer idea of having your pussy wrapped around him had him so painfully hard and leaking it was disgusting and pathetic, but he couldn’t care less.
you were grinding your hips at a mean pace, your walls so snug, he fit so perfectly inside you, and he was trying so hard to think of anything else just to stop himself from cumming in a couple of minutes like a desperately horny teenager.
his massive hands were holding onto your waist, practically trembling with every rock of your hips, he was trying so hard to stay put, trying to keep his hips grounded so he wouldn’t rut into you like an animal, chasing his high, but the way you were looking down at him, with that smirk on your face—and the way you kept mocking him constantly, it’s doing dangerous things to his brain.
the feeling of your weight on top of him, your perfect tits right in front of his face, the way your walls flutter around him ever so slightly when he lets out a noise that can only be described as whiny and embarrassing—it’s all too much for him, every little shift has him groaning, pleading and begging for something, anything.
the second you slam your hips into him again, he sees stars, whimpering just the tiniest bit before he cums, finally holding onto your waist just a little bit tighter, digging into your flesh while he rests his head at the crook of your neck.
he can feel tears well up in his eyes, nuzzling farther into your neck so you wouldn’t notice. you were so pretty, and you felt so good, how could he stop himself? he’s been dreaming about you, how you’d feel, hell he has your body memorised to near perfection with the amount of times he’s stalked you everywhere. he’d be a fool to believe he wouldn’t come undone the first time he’s underneath you.
“gods that was—.” he mumbles, still sniffling back his tears.
“i know.” is all you say, looking at him—he was flushed, pretty, the most stunning shade of red, covered in slick and sweat, leaning on your gigantic mountain of plushies.
maybe, just maybe, letting sukuna break down those little walls of yours wasn’t such a bad idea. ruining him was the most fun you’d had in ages. and you most certainly weren’t gonna stop here, now, were you?
ok last one! i’ve pretty much like. tapped out of all the fics butt i might be rewriting all these old drabbles because i think my style has changed. @yoonsucks @yorikae @kireampie
all works belong to @lilithkleia, do NOT copy, translate or feed to AI. lest you wish upon toji’s worm to crawl up your ass.
AITA FOR POSING AS A RICH MAN TO PULL A RICH GIRL..?
sum. when toji falls for the hot lady that frequents his shifts at the local grocery store, can his frat brothers help him pose as a rich hot bachelor ? or will you discover his kid & true identity first ? [n]sfw
“brokie and a baby daddy but you wanna pull y/n? don’t even joke, lad.”
ΣΧ
toji zenin is pretending to stack boxes in the third aisle of the local loblaws.
well, not exactly. toji zenin has his biceps flexing under the weight of crates but his eyes don’t lift to the shelf he places them on. instead his pupils flit to the automatic entrance doors, thick & glass-heavy, before he glances at his watch & back to the door again. 12:30 PM sunday. toji knows you should be here by now.
but you’re not, so toji’s lip twitches as he stares at the box of freezies in his arms and sighs. it’s pathetic, really. he’s got five more boxes of who-knows-what to arrange before the end of his shift but he can’t fucking focus. his mind’s on your short skirt & pretty laugh & the way your voice goes sweet whenever he pretends to help you look for items while holding your hand between the aisles. toji grunts, shakes his head. focus focus focus.
“toji.. can you help me reach the olive oil? the cold-pressed one with the pretty label?”
toji’s head snaps up so fast he almost drops the box of freezies.
it’s you—oh god, it’s you, and you’re looking down at him with those pretty lashes & short skirt & your hands holding a basket behind your back. you’re in those cute kitten heels you had on the first time he saw you—did you get your nails done? so pretty. you’re so pretty, you’re always so pretty, and toji’s mouth dries.
he doesn’t say anything because he can’t, because your perfume smells like honey & has his lungs sticking to his throat—but he slowly stands up anyway. you’re humming to yourself as you pad closer, getting in his way, heel clicking against the tile as he traps you in the aisle.
he reaches up to the glass bottle, and he can see your lashes fluttering up at him. your chest presses against his, and his lip ticks upward.
“you want this, princess?” he mumbles.
you playfully swat his chest, but your palm doesn’t slide off. you’re caressing his pecs now, teasing. “toji, give it to me. i have a pasta to make tonight. i’m busy.”
toji chuckles, slipping the bottle into your basket and letting his palm sneak over your waist instead. your hands are still on his pecs, lightly squeezing as you laugh when he tugs you closer. he nuzzles your jaw, murmuring, “only if i get an invite, sweetheart.”
“we’ll see,” you tease as his tongue licks your earlobe. you’re running a thumb over the silver tag on his chest: TOJI. “if you’re good, maybe i’ll let you wash the dishes.”
he kisses your neck. “m’always good for you, baby.”
you’re giggling now, shoving him away with flushed cheeks & a laugh too bright. toji catches your hands, tugging you back with a smile on his face before squeezing your hips. your lips are so glossy. is that the new gloss you bought last week? can he kiss it off?
he’ll never know, because he’s holding your hips while you tug at his collar and whisper something he doesn’t care about in his ear. his manager calls his name.
fuck.
toji gives your hips one last squeeze. “go pay, princess. i’ll bag your stuff.”
“you better.” you huff, spoiled & sweet, and toji can only watch the sway of your hips as you make your way to the register.
you’re a pretty girl with a posh life who will never know lack. toji’s a 24-year-old who’s still in college, working odd jobs with a son waiting at home.
in the third aisle of the local loblaws, toji zenin has his hands on his hips and his eyes on the ground. toji zenin will never say it out loud, but he knows he will never, ever, get the girl.
ⵌ AT THE FRATHOUSE !
“you can’t pull someone like y/n, no offense.”
toji wishes suguru wouldn’t spell it out. he already knows, for christ’s sake.
in sigma chi’s living room, toji zenin is sprawled out on the center rug while suguru and sato eat on the floor beside him. sato is between geto’s legs with his back against geto’s chest & his toe tickling toji’s jaw through his socks. suguru is tilting his shawarma for sato to bite from before taking a bite of his own.
sato’s about to dish out an insult of his own when the door swings open. in comes ryomen sukuna, standing in the doorway with bags in his hands and his limbs stretched out like some sort of clown. he bellows, “therapy fucking sucked today. i still don’t think i need therapy, by the way. watching porn and jerking off is completely normal—fuck you, suguru.”
“maybe it is,” suguru’s lips are sticky with shawarma sauce, “but having your dick out in the same room as other people is not.”
“a young man can’t be an exhibitionist? suck my dick, man.”
“oh, i’m not hungry..”
sukuna trudges over toji’s legs, then plops on the ground opposite sato and suguru. sato throws him the middle finger with a grin. sukuna throws it back. “i brought drinks. toji, why’re you on the floor? ya need therapy too?”
sato snickers. “toji’s fallen for a rich girl.”
sukuna snorts, “don’t even joke, lad.” but suguru and toji aren’t laughing. his brows scrunch. “wait—“ he turns to toji, “you’re serious?”
toji eyes him. “mind your own business.”
sukuna doesn’t believe in complex schools of thought like ‘minding your business.’ so instead of picking a shawarma for himself and eating in silence, he joins sato and nudges his foot against toji’s cheek. “does she know you’re poor?”
“hey, hey,” geto bites his cheek, “not too much on him.”
but sukuna continues. “what about the kid? does she know you have a son?”
toji’s jaw only tightens.
sukuna looks at toji in disbelief. then at sato, then suguru—then shakes his head, laughing. “jesus christ of jollof rice,” he cracks open a beer, “you’re fucking cooked, bro.”
toji drags his hands over his face. his eyes are hot, for some reason.
suguru sighs, resting his chin on sato’s head as sato munches happily underneath him. “i hate to suggest this, but there’s a way you can get her to give you a chance.”
sukuna and toji both perk up.
“if she doesn’t know about meg—or your, uh, economics,” suguru clears his throat, “then you keep it that way. she thinks you’re some hot older uni student who works at loblaws for beer money. lean into it.”
sato frowns. “this sounds like something i’d suggest. so not good, i think.”
suguru pokes his cheek, making sato’s pout grow deeper. “i’m just spit-balling here. it’s obvious you really like her, toji. and megumi needs a mommy.”
“i don’t like her because i want her to play housewife.”
“we know,” suguru’s smile is affectionate. “that’s why we’ll help you.”
sukuna grunts in agreement. “sounds scummy but it makes sense. if she finds out you’re a baby daddy with no money, she’ll just run back to her range rover.” he takes another swig of his beer. “we’ll help you hide your true identity. you just get her hooked enough that when she eventually does find out, she won’t leave.”
sato nods. “we’ll babysit. lend you money. heck—you can drive my porsche to your dates.”
on the floor, toji zenin is staring towards the ceiling. it’s a stupid plan, his frat brothers are even stupider, and there is no way in hell whoever is up there will actually let things work out in his favor.
but toji’s desperate. he has been for a long time. so before he can let himself think about it, his lips part to respond.
“alright,” he grunts. “let’s fucking do it.”
SIGMA CHI’S REMARK : DON’T WORRY BRO, WE GOTCHU !
BROKE BOY TACTICS #2: WHO’S YOUR DADDY ?
taught by: sato, sukuna, suguru
“babysitting a five year old brat. how hard could that be?”
ΣΧ
megumi zenin is tufts of black hair, sleepy blue eyes & a tiny fist in a jar full of gummy worms. he’s slumped against his dad’s thick leg, shoving fistfuls of gummies in his mouth with candy-smeared cheeks & a bored expression on his face.
sato, sukuna and suguru are side-by-side on a straight line.
hands tucked behind their backs & chests puffed out like soldiers. toji clears his throat. “listen up. i’m going to be gone for exactly two hours. if i come back and the kid has a single scratch on him, i’m throwing all of you into a pond.“
suguru shakes his head, stepping forward to crouch down to megumi’s height. he wipes megumi’s cheeks with a smile. “don't worry, toji. we've got him. right, little man?”
“hi, uncle sugu,” megumi’s voice is flat but he leans into geto’s palm on his cheek. “are we going to draw today?”
“of course, kiddo. i bought some new crayons just for you.”
toji scoops his son up in his arms, ignoring the way his tiny body writhes towards the gummy worms abandoned on the floor. suguru lifts the jar back to megumi with a smile. sukuna, however, is frowning. “why is his face like that.”
“sukuna, do not fight my kid.”
megumi points towards him. “my daddy calls you a pervert.”
sato bursts out in laughter. suguru’s snickering too, though he’s doing a better job of hiding it. toji drops his son to the ground and crouches to his height. megumi offers him a soggy, wet gummy worm. toji eats it off his palm & pokes his belly.
he rises to his feet. “suguru is in charge. rest of you, keep your hands off him. i’m leaving.”
megumi waves a sticky hand. “bye, daddy. bring me a cookie.”
“will do, brat.” and the door shuts with a thud.
——
“we should go to wonderland. you like amusement parks, ‘gumi?”
megumi zenin has a crayon in his hands, scribbling furiously with a focused expression on his face. he’s seated in geto’s lap, occasionally having suguru hand him a crayon as he perfects his artistic masterpiece. to his right, sato gojo is leaning over the table and talking a mile-a-minute.
megumi answers, scribbling a drawing of what looks like him and his father—DADDY AND ME. “i’ve never been to an amusement park.”
“what?” sato slams his palm on the table, distraught. “what kind of kid has never been to an amusement park?!”
“my father is poor.”
“oh,” sato shrinks. “fairs.”
suguru lets out a fond huff, burying his nose in megumi’s hair to hide the fact that he’s shaking from laughter. sato looks crushed by guilt. “i can’t take this anymore, suguru.” he clutches his chest. “we’re going to the apple store and getting him an ipad pro right now.”
suguru raises a brow. “toji said no screens. and either way, i won’t let you turn him into an ipad kid.”
megumi slumps against geto’s chest. “i want a blue gatorade.”
“i’ll get it for you, buddy,” suguru smiles before kissing his cheek, easing him off his lap. “don’t let sato teach you about investment and stocks while i’m gone, okay?”
sato has his chin on the table, defeated. and just as suguru’s back turns into the kitchen, sukuna saunters in, steps heavy, palm curled around a blue bottle of—is that the last gatorade?!
sukuna cracks the plastic seal, taking a slow, heavy swig of the drink while staring right at the five year old. megumi’s tiny brows furrow. “that’s mine. uncle sugu said i could have it.”
“well,” sukuna licks his lips, slow. “uncle sugu’s not the king of this house.” he takes another gulp, throwing his head back with a refreshed ahhhhhh. megumi frowns, lips tight.
and then he screams.
“uncle sugu! mister pervert’s being mean again!”
sukuna chokes on his gatorade. “who the hell are you calling mister pervert, you little brat—“
sato jumps over the table to hold back sukuna before he can strangle the five-year-old. suguru runs out of the kitchen in alarm, quickly scrambling to hold back sukuna’s wrath alongside sato.
megumi only blinks at the display. three grown men bickering and shoving over gatorade. hell, he’s not so sure he even wants it anymore.
he sighs, reaching across the table to pick up sato’s iphone. he dials his dad’s number, palm smushed into his cheek as he watches suguru smack sukuna for his bad behavior.
ⵌ AT THE DATE !
in the local coffee shop, your lashes are fluttering & the sunlight kisses your skin as you stare out the window.
toji zenin has his heart in his throat. his hands are in his pockets but his ribs are cracked against his chest, and the sight of you pouting out the window has his mouth drying with want. he strolls over regardless, posture lazy, steps cool, because toji zenin is a man who can only have pride when he pretends.
“hi, princess,” he slides into the booth seat—next to you, not across, because he’s been thinking about the feel of your waist in his hands since last thursday—and his ankle hooks around yours on autopilot.
“hi,” you smile, leaning into his side as he kisses your hair. toji takes your palm in his. your fingers are so dainty. fuck.
“you look nice today,” you hum. “who are you trying to impress?”
your lashes are batting up at him, but toji manages to keep his cool. his smirk is lazy & gorgeous. “you, obviously.”
toji wonders how you can let him touch you so casually. even now he’s nibbling your ear as you talk about something from class—a lazy professor or something else, it’s hard to listen when your thumb brushes his jaw while you speak—and toji’s mind wanders. he’s kissing your neck now, thumbs rubbing circles on your thighs as your breath hitches between words, and toji wonders why you haven’t yet flinched in disgust.
he doesn’t dwell on it too long, though. he knows the topic will only get him down.
so he kisses your neck as you laugh and swat him away, telling him he’s distracting you from your story. you never push him off, though, and your thigh’s on his lap now.
but all good things must come to an end.
toji’s phone buzzes.
loud & obnoxious. SATO, his screen reads. he quickly swipes it away. “sorry…just spam.”
“spam?” you poke his bicep, grinning. “or is your little side piece getting impatient?”
“don’t have a side piece, baby,” he murmurs into your cheek. “only want you.”
1 NEW FACETIME AUDIO CALL : SATO 🤡
his phone has been buzzing for ages now. you sigh, crossing your arms & clearly annoyed. “toji, just answer it. what if it’s an emergency?”
you’re right, he should answer it, because if anything happened to megumi, he’d fucking flip. he bites his lip, “one second, princess.”
he presses his phone to his ear, but megumi’s voice greets him instead.
“daddy! uncle kuna’s trying to kill me because of blue gatorade!”
toji’s eyes widen. from the corner of his eye, he can see you inching closer, brows furrowed in concentration as you try to listen in.
in the background of the call he can hear sato shrieking. “suguru—! use the spatula! use the spatula! sukuna stop—“
you’re blinking at him, inching closer to his bicep on the table. “daddy? who’s calling you daddy?”
toji’s soul leaves his body.
“daddy, are you coming home soon? uncle sugu’s spanking him now. it’s very loud—“
he ends the call before you can hear any more.
“do you have a son?”
toji’s breathing stutters. you’ve inched away from him now, lips bent in a frown, brows furrowed, expression curious—or cautious, toji can’t really tell. and it pains him to lie to you, but what else can he say when you’ve already shifted your thigh off his lap?
“nah,” he answers too fast. “it’s my nephew.”
toji reaches out to thumb your cheek, but you don’t relax into his palm. “think he meant to call my brother, not me.”
he tugs your bottom lip as you speak. “i didn’t know you had a brother…”
“there’s a lot you don’t know about me, princess,” he leans in to kiss the corner of your lips, because he knows he doesn’t deserve any more than that. your pout deepens.
“we can change that though,” he lies, smiling. “wanna get dessert?”
SATO’S REMARK : NICE SAVE, TOJI ! AND MY BAD—HAHA !
BROKE BOY TACTICS #3: BLEACH !
taught by: geto suguru, toru gojo
“inviting her over already? we’ve gotta scrub this place clean, then.“
ΣΧ
toji zenin has one hour to make it seem like megumi doesn’t exist.
geto suguru is scrubbing the bathrooms. toru gojo has somehow been roped into this predicament and is scrubbing away in the kitchen. in the living room, toji zenin is picking up cheerios from the rug, phone in his ear with sukuna on the line.
“hi daddy,”megumi’s voice is flat through the speaker. “uncle kuna’s being nice to me today.”
“that’s great, kiddo. can you put him back on the phone?”
“yo,” sukuna’s voice crackles through.
“if anything happens to my son, i will spread your ass cheeks and sprinkle paprika in the hole.”
“oh.”
“yeah,” toji shifts the phone in his neck. “make sure he has a good time at that amusement park. and don’t let sato spoil him too much.”
“heyyy toji!” sato’s voice crackles through the speaker. toji sighs before grunting back a hello. “keep megumi safe, got it?”
“yes, sir!” / “we got it, boss.” / “bye, daddy!”
toji says his goodbyes. just as he clicks the end button, toru gojo pads into the living room, glasses tilting off his face & slipping rubber gloves off his hands. “all done in the kitchen. remind me why we’re deceiving this poor lady again?”
toji picks up a gummy worm tucked under the rug and cringes. “because she wouldn’t look twice at a broke guy with a kid.”
toru softens, adjusting his glasses. “you don’t know that. have you tried telling her?”
“no.”
“why not?”
"because,” he picks up another gummy worm hidden under the couch, glaring at it before throwing it away. "because every time someone finds out about megumi, they look at me different. like i'm a burden. like he's a burden."
toru purses his lip. he’s watching as toji ducks under the couch, picking out stray bits of cereal and snacks and other things that make toji’s nose scrunch up in disgust.
toru shakes his head, taking off his glasses to set them on the counter. “but you don’t know if she’s like that.”
“i know i can’t lose her before i even have her.”
toru purses his lip. toji’s voice came out too tight.
ⵌ SHOW TIME !
when toji opens his front door, you’re in a too-short dress and there’s moët & chandon in your hands.
god, you’re gorgeous. and toji really needs to stop thinking that. needs to stop saying it in his head before he slips up and says it out loud with a tone he can’t take back.
“hi,” you tilt your head, batting your lashes in that way that makes him stupid. “you gonna keep standing there? or are you gonna take this bottle off my hands?”
ah, right. toji reaches for the bottle but you pull it back. he raises a brow.
“say ‘please pretty girl, may i have the wine?’”
you’re still peering up at him, hugging the bottle of wine to your chest, teasing smile on your glossy lips. toji leans against the doorframe. arms crossed, dark eyes raking over your hips, plush thighs, pretty waist. fuck.
his lips twitch, “i’m not saying that.”
“aww,” you pout, glossy and spoiled. “guess i have to turn back home and drink this expensive wine all by myself.” you turn, and toji bites his cheek because your dress has ridden up to give him the perfect view of your ass. so soft. he can’t wait to squeeze it.
“i’m gonna be so lonely…” your back is still turned to him, voice wistful. “and i came all the way over here, too. i’m so upset.”
toji doesn’t let you take another step.
you squeal as he scoops you up with a grunt, arms snaking over your waist & under your thighs to lift you bridal style. you squeeze the bottle of wine in your arms, eyes shut tight as you giggle while he kicks the door shut. “toji! put me down!”
careful what you wish for.
toji drops you to his couch with a thud. you land with a breathless laugh, dress bunched up to your hips & he can see the print of your panties. your hair is fanned out, and the bottle of wine is pressed to your stomach. you’re giggling, eyes bright, and god. you look so fucking gorgeous all laid out for him. toji’s jaw ticks.
he climbs over you, pressing his warm body down until the wine digs into your stomach. his eyes are dark. hungry.
“please, pretty girl,” he murmurs, breath hot, lips teasing your neck. “may i have the wine?”
oh.
your breath hitches. you stare up at him, cheeks hot, eyes wide, thighs squeezing together in anticipation. but you’re a bad girl, so you don’t give toji zenin what he wants just yet.
your smile falters, but you tilt your head. “thought you weren’t gonna say it?”
he grins, pressing a hot kiss underneath your ear. “and i thought you were leavin’.”
you let out a shaky gasp as toji licks a hot stripe up your neck. he’s filthy—big hands gripping your hips to keep you pinned to the couch, squeezing you hard each time you moan and buck yourself into him. his breath is hot against your neck, sucking and kissing and teasing, the occasional nip when you whimper just the way he likes.
his weight presses the wine harder into your stomach. you gasp, “toji, the wine—“
“hold it, baby.”
your eyes squeeze shut as his kisses trail further down your neck, tummy fluttering as heat pools between your thighs. his thumb on your hip sinks under the silk of your panties, and you whine his name before he shushes you with a sweet kiss to your cheek.
toji doesn’t kiss you on the lips. the lips are too honest, and toji is not.
you’re still clutching the bottle, chest heaving as toji presses your hips deeper, deeper—
“ow!”
toji freezes.
in truth, toji zenin has never been a gentle man. his body is too big and his hands are too rough, and life itself has never treated him gently, nor given him much reason to be gentle towards others. but as toji hovers over you, limbs frozen in alarm, his stomach can’t help but twist with disgust. said body and rough hands have crushed something soft yet again.
“did i hurt you?” his voice comes out weird. “doll—look at me. you okay?”
“i’m fine,” you wince, cheeks flushed as you try to steady your breathing. you twist your leg slightly, sliding your fingers down into the sofa cushion where something sharp poked at you. “something... something poked my leg.”
you pull out a tiny, red brick.
you blink. “a lego?”
for the second time this evening, toji freezes.
he takes it from your hand, flicking it away. he lifts your arms to wrap them around his neck, and lowers himself back to your chest. “that what you stopped me for, princess?” he mutters coolly, like his heart isn’t beating in his throat. “had me so worried, baby.”
“toji, why do you have a lego?”
he kisses your jaw, “my nephew’s.”
ah, that makes sense. you hug his neck tighter, giggling as he slips the wine off your belly & onto the floor. he presses yet another kiss to your neck, warm & sweet, and you let your chin rest on his shoulder as he loves you with gentler hands.
but then you see it.
on the metal door of the kitchen fridge, past a jar of gummy worms and a poorly placed broom, a banana-shaped magnet is there.
and right under it, a scribbled drawing. the messy figure of a man with spiky hair, and a smaller, more spiky-haired boy.
DADDY AND ME.
your body goes still.
toji’s hands are on your hips, thighs, waist—but his touch suddenly itches. the warmth has gone cold.
“toji,” you whisper. “who drew that?”
toji doesn't move. his eyes slowly follow your gaze to the fridge, and the panic in his eyes is unmistakable. the lie slips out of his mouth before his brain can even catch up to it.
“sociology project,” he breathes. “developmental regression. drew it with my left hand.”
“your left hand…”
your voice trails off as toji sinks his lips back to your neck.
toji zenin does not study sociology.
TORU’S REMARK : YOU CAN’T FOOL HER FOREVER.
BROKE BOY TACTICS #4: LEAN INTO THE LARP !
taught by: sato gojo
“you can’t pull up to a date in an uber. take my porsche—you’re a rich guy now.”
ΣΧ
it’s late, and three floors down, toji zenin has his hands on his hips, staring at sato’s sleek black porsche in disbelief while his tie itches at his neck. three floors up, in toji’s crappy apartment, the gang’s all there.
megumi has a blanket pulled up to his chin, seated on the couch next to suguru. sukuna is lounging on the floor with his back against said couch. sato is flipping through TV stations. the light in the room is dim, and sato snickers at something sukuna says before tossing him the remote.
“why does everyone always leave me?”
the trio freeze.
megumi’s expression is flat. he’s staring into the tv’s glow, but his eyes are soulless and empty. suguru hesitates—but then he rests a hand on megumi’s hair. “what do you mean, kiddo?”
“daddy’s always leaving now,” megumi closes his eyes, rigid against the couch cushions. “he never spends time with me anymore. he’s acting like my mommy did.”
the three boys’ hearts crack right down the middle.
they’re staring at each other now, the weight of megumi’s words on their shoulders. how do they tell a little boy that the reason his father has been less present—and is also not present tonight—is because he’s currently trying to hide his child’s existence to impress a woman? and that they’re all helping him?
sato speaks first. too quick, too fast.
“he’s just been busy,” he croaks out. “he’s been picking up new shifts. he’s working really hard.”
“yeah,” sukuna agrees. “he’s working hard. to take care of you, meg.”
megumi stares into the tv screen. geto’s hand is still heavy on his head, and his body is limp and his eyes are heavy.
“i know.” megumi mutters. “he’s my hero.”
suguru bites his lip. “you know what, meg? why don’t we draw something? a new picture for your dad?”
megumi’s eyes flit to the kitchen fridge. DADDY AND ME. the picture is still there, but the paper is crinkled and damp now. as if someone threw it away with heavy eyes, then somehow thought better of it.
megumi nods, “yeah.”
“okay, buddy. i’ll go get the crayons.”
“i’ll get the paper!”
“and i’ll… uh. you want a gatorade, kid?”
the three adults go after the various items. megumi takes one last look at his drawing on the fridge, and then he slips off the couch and pads away.
ⵌ SHOW TIME !
toji zenin is a man who can only have pride when he pretends.
so today, he pretends the sleek black porsche parked outside your house is his. he pretends he’s not wearing sato’s luxury cologne, that his tie isn’t secondhand, that the cuff of his suit isn’t too tight on his wrist and that the guilt in his mouth doesn’t taste like his blood.
he’s gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles turn white.
when you open the car door, you look like a dream.
your lips are glossy, always glossy, but it’s a different shade of shimmer tonight. your hair is loose all over your shoulders, heels clicky, dress black and matching the shade of sato’s car. toji stares, jaw slack as you slide into the passenger’s seat. the words in his throat have turned into bile.
“Hi.” you blink at him.
“Hi.”
he can’t say much else, and he really ought to but he can’t, so instead he only watches as you huff and click your seatbelt in place. toji licks his lips, turns back to the wheel. says a quick prayer to a god he doesn’t believe in. “you look gorgeous.”
you don’t respond.
the car starts with an expensive growl. it makes toji wince, and he hopes you don’t notice. he’s practiced starting the car three times so he can pretend he’s used to it. he isn’t, and he’ll never be.
he pulls onto the streets, eyes frantically scanning the road as his pulse drums in his teeth.
“toji?” you say, eyes trained ahead of you, voice flat.
“yeah, baby?”
“where are we going?”
toji’s fingers drum on the steering wheel. he turns right at the fork. “somewhere nice,” his voice is strained. “somewhere you deserve to be.”
he lets his right hand shift to the center console, trying to bridge the gap. his hand is sweating, maybe. you glance at it. glance away.
you peer out the window, head against the edge, watching the lights blur through the glass. “i feel like i’m sitting in a museum,” you murmur, quiet. “everything feels curated. including you.”
he swallows. “i’m trying to make tonight special.”
“special…” you trail off, lashes fluttering as you stare out the window.
“i don’t know who you are, zenin.”
toji’s head aches. and so does his chest, violent and sharp and stabbing. he’s a liar, a con artist, a selfish man with rough hands and a son waiting at home. oh—megumi. his phone’s been buzzing in his pocket for a while now. how’s megumi?
“i’m just a guy,” he chooses to say. “a guy who likes you.”
“do you? or is that just part of the exhibit?”
maybe there really is a god watching, because before toji can respond something makes a sound.
he’s not sure what, honestly, but he’s quick to capitalize on it. he needs the air. toji turns into an empty street to park. he unbuckles his seat belt, leans over a bit. “stay in the car, okay?”
you only nod, and toji’s throat curls with guilt.
the night air is cool on his skin. he opens the car bonnet—careful, as careful as a man like him can be—pretending to scan the engines for a possible source of the noise. he doesn’t find anything wrong, and he knew he wouldn’t, but he holds up the bonnet and pretends to check anyways.
three minutes pass before he returns to the car.
three minutes of toji zenin teaching himself how to breathe. the same way he does when megumi shuts down even though he thinks the steps are corny. having a kid really changes you, doesn’t it?
megumi. he looks at his watch, 9PM. his boy should be in bed by now.
the buzzing from his phone has stopped. he should check it now, but you’re still waiting. still beautiful. still hurt.
so toji slams the hood shut. sucks in a breath and slides back into the driver’s seat. you’re staring at him as he buckles his seatbelt.
“toji,” your voice is careful. “do you have anything you want to tell me?”
yes. i work three jobs and i’m drowning in student loans. i got a girl pregnant when i was eighteen, and she left me when i turned twenty-one. i have a boy who’s five-and-a-half and he’s the only good thing i have left. and i’m sorry i lied, but i didn’t want you to leave me before i could love you and i’m sorry, and i’m sorry again, and you deserve better, and i’m sorry.
“no,” toji lies.
you purse your lips. “okay.”
the engine roars back to life. and toji is sweating, and the date feels over before it’s even started, and his pulse is too loud and—
“daddy?”
toji’s blood runs cold.
in the backseat of sato’s porsche, megumi zenin is there, body tucked under a blanket and rubbing his eyes. he slips off the seat and stumbles towards the console, still rubbing at his face. “hi, daddy.”
toji zenin can only stay frozen as megumi wraps his smaller arms around his neck.
he tries to speak, fingers twitching as they hover over his son’s back. “megumi—hey, buddy—what’re you doing here?”
megumi buries his nose into his father’s neck. “i didn’t want to be alone again.”
toji bites his lip. he can feel your eyes boring into him, and he nervously scrambles. “hey—you’re never alone, buddy. where are your uncles? come here.”
he lifts megumi into his lap, avoiding your gaze.
“is this your son?”
toji’s mouth dries.
he could say it’s his nephew, make up some lie about him referring to both him and his ‘brother’ as dad, but god. you’re already looking at him with something he doesn’t have the vocabulary to name, and toji’s jaw aches.
“yes,” he sucks in a breath. “this is my son, megumi.”
he brushes megumi’s hair back, taking his little fist away from his face so he stops rubbing at his eyes. “meg, say hi to the pretty lady.”
“hi, pretty lady.”
megumi waves a small hand, then collapses against his father’s stomach.
you force a smile and flick your eyes back up to toji.
“i think you should take me home.”
???’s REMARK : YOU CAN’T LARP YOUR WAY INTO BEING LOVED !
BROKE BOY TACTICS #5: EMBRACE YOUR ECONOMICS !
taught by: nanami kento, megumi zenin.
“maybe she doesn’t hate you. maybe she hates that you thought so little of her you felt the need to live a lie.”
ΣΧ
it’s a new day, and toji zenin is laden with old burdens.
he’s slumped against his bedroom wall, phone pressed to his ear with megumi on his stretched out legs. megumi has a red & green colored hand in another jar full of gummy worms. toji makes a mental note to hide it better next time.
“you didn’t just lose the date,” nanami’s voice cuts through the speaker, flat and professional as always. “you insulted her intelligence. made her out to be a shallow woman who’d only care about you if you had money in your bank account.”
toji stares at the ceiling. then at megumi, who’s about to eat a gummy worm off the floor. he flicks it away. “she looked at me like i was trash, nanami.”
“she looked at you like you were a liar,” nanami corrects. “which you are.”
nanami sighs, breath sending a crackle through the speaker. all he wanted to do was spend his afternoon reading his new favorite BL, doukyuusei, but once again the shenanigans of his friends have interrupted his peace.
“toji, you’re a smart man. and she sounds like a smart woman. i doubt she’d lose interest because you have a son—i believe she hates that you lied to her.”
megumi takes a worm and makes it crawl through toji’s lips. it’s cold, but toji chews and swallows anyways. “i need to apologize.”
“yes,” toji can hear a page flip. “and quickly. i have to attend to other matters now, but say hi to megumi for me.”
the line goes dead, and toji drops his hand to the floor.
megumi chews a gummy worm. then he takes it out of his mouth, frowns at it, then eats it again. “daddy, are you mad at me?”
toji frowns. “for what?”
“i ruined your date,” megumi looks into the jar of worms, frowning, then back at his dad. “with auntie.”
toji looks at his son. at his candy smeared cheeks, sticky hands, black spikes of hair and sugar in his teeth. megumi looks just like him. he’s always known it, but he’s growing to look more and more like his father every day.
“you didn’t ruin anything,” he murmurs, pulling his son into his chest. “you’ve never ruined anything in your life.”
he pats megumi’s hair, head thrown back. “i’m sorry, meg.”
five-year-old megumi zenin has already lost interest. he’s more focused on getting the red and blue gummy in the sea of yellow-green ones, small hand grabbing fistfuls of worms before dropping them back. he doesn’t know his father is sorry, sorry for everything, for trying to erase his existence to impress a woman and for bringing him into this world knowing he will never be able to give him the future he deserves.
megumi retrieves the red and blue gummy worm. his favorite flavor. he blinks at it once, twice.
then he turns to his dad. lifts the gummy worm on his palm to his face.
toji zenin eats it right off.
ⵌ SHOW TIME !
megumi zenin is in his best clothes: baby blue button-up from suguru. a white top with a red race car that sukuna had got him for his birthday. light up skechers from uncle sato. toji had tried to get him to wear normal shoes, but megumi shut that down quickly. he wanted to be seen.
you no longer frequent the local loblaws.
and it breaks toji’s heart, actually. you haven’t blocked him just yet, thank god, so toji thinks you might not yet hate him completely. that he might still have a chance.
call him a weirdo, but he’s been to almost every grocery store nearby.
no frills, sobeys, you name it. and now, at 12:30PM sunday, toji zenin is in his car with his son, watching you load groceries into the backseat with a pout on your lips. like you’re above this. like you need a big, strong man to offer his help. and toji’s chest aches. because he could be that man, you know. if you’d let him.
toji slips out of the car. megumi hops out too.
he stops just a few feet behind you, watching you mutter curses as you haul a carton of juice. toji’s lip twitches. then he pulls megumi along.
“let me help.”
you blink as toji comes out of seemingly nowhere to save the day. he lifts everything out of your cart and into your car, never breaking a sweat. truthfully, your groceries aren’t even that heavy. he’s not sure why you were struggling, but he thinks it’s so fucking cute.
he lets you click your remote to close the boot shut. then he turns to you: “i owe you an apology.”
you tilt your head. “do you?”
he squeezes megumi’s hand in his own to ground himself. “i lied because i was scared,” he admits, and you never thought you’d hear toji and ‘scared’ in the same sentence. “you’re a pretty girl from a nice family who spends my rent money on groceries,” he breathes. “and i want you, bad. and i thought if you saw me—the me who lived paycheck to paycheck and has nothing except this little brat,” he raises megumi’s hand, “you’d leave before i even got a chance.”
he shifts his hand to megumi’s head. “it’s fucking stupid, i know. but this is my son,” he ruffles megumi’s hair. “say hi, kid.”
“hi, auntie.”
your gaze shifts away from toji, and drops to the little boy beside him. megumi is apple cheeks, dark, messy hair and nervous feet shifting on the pavement. he looks like his dad, and the sight makes your heart melt.
“hi, baby boy.” you crouch down to his height. “i love your shirt. do you wanna come here?”
megumi nods. he abandons his father’s side to let you scoop him up in your arms.
toji frowns.
megumi’s a shy kid. or not shy—awkward. he can’t make eye contact with kids his age, his tone is too flat, and his eyes are always bored. he doesn’t like to be touched by people he isn’t familiar with, and he’s very quick to say no to what he doesn’t like or want. so toji can only watch, brows knit in confusion, as megumi’s fist curls over your necklace and he lets you press a kiss to his cheek.
“hi, auntie,” megumi collapses into your shoulder, fist still gripping your necklace. “i did a very good job.”
“so good, baby,” you kiss his hair, grinning. “i’m gonna buy you all the gummies in the world.”
megumi blushes from the affection. he shifts his head over your shoulder so all you can see is his pink chubby cheek.
“what the hell is happening?”
“daddy’s a big dummy,” megumi mutters into your shoulder. “the biggest,” you agree.
toji’s frown deepens, and you laugh. “i’ve already met megumi, silly.”
toji blinks. he’s about to ask how, but you beat him to it: “remember when you got out of the car? megumi woke up in the backseat,” you kiss his ear softly, and megumi’s blush deepens. “we had a long chat about you, toji. and i asked him to pretend we’ve never met, and go back to sleep in the car.”
you watch megumi, fond. his fingers curling deeper into your necklace, his eyes shy and staring behind you. “i can’t believe you’ve been keeping this little angel from me. you’re a monster, toji.”
“dummy monster…” megumi mutters. you kiss his cheek again and he hides.
toji thinks about it. to megumi referring to you as auntie back in the apartment. fuck. he didn’t think too much of it, but perhaps he should’ve.
“so? you two were testing me, or some shit?”
you shift a hand from megumi’s back to your hip. “no attitude, mister. i’m still mad at you,” your frown, and then your shoulders drop. “did you really think you had to fake having money to impress me? picking me up in a porsche when i’ve already seen your crappy apartment?”
you stroke megumi’s hair. “and lying about meg,” your expression goes soft, sad. “have you apologized to him?”
“yeah,” megumi tugs your necklace. “he told me sorry.”
you smile at him, then kiss his little fist. “that’s great, baby. you deserve an apology. and i’m sorry as well, for taking away your time with your father.”
megumi pats your face, voice flat. “i forgive you.”
you giggle, pinching his cheek, and toji can only stare in disbelief.
megumi’s cheeks are pink from your kisses, little fingers curled tight around your necklace while you sway him absentmindedly against your chest. his light-up skechers blink every time his feet kick against your thighs. you’re smiling at him like he’s heaven as a boy, and megumi—quiet, awkward, megumi—is hiding his face in your shoulder because he’s shy.
how greedy.
how greedy of toji zenin to pick out cheerios from between couch cushions like trying to erase evidence of a crime scene. how greedy of him to scrub crayon off his walls, peel gummies off his floors and hide away his son with other people he can’t truly call family. how greedy of him to rip his son’s drawing off the fridge, only to put it back again later because he can’t even be greedy right.
how greedy of toji zenin to hide the only good thing in his life away; all because he wanted yet another good thing: you.
he wanted your pretty laugh in his apartment. wanted your heels by the front door, wanted your perfume in his sheets and your voice mixed with megumi’s cartoons on saturday mornings. toji zenin wanted everything.
now his everything was shoving his chubby hand in the face of his other everything to keep from getting attacked by kisses. but he was smiling. megumi zenin was smiling, and blushing, and laughing—and toji thinks about how he hasn’t seen megumi this childish in a while.
his heart aches.
“i’m sorry.”
sorry for what? he knows what he’s sorry for, but the words have failed him again, so he can only watch. watch as you tilt your head the way you always do, before megumi glances at you and tilts his head back at him the same way. oh god.
“‘gumi, do we forgive daddy?”
“yeah,” megumi’s feet kick. his shoes light up, red and blue. “if he stops hiding my gummies.”
toji won’t hide his gummies anymore. hell, he’ll never hide anything again in his life.
and maybe megumi senses the guilt on his father’s shoulders, because he squirms his tiny body for you to set him down and dashes so hard into his father’s legs that he knocks his forehead against his knee. “ow…”
toji snorts, crouching. “what are you doing, kid.” but he’s scooping megumi into his arms anyways. you pad closer, grin cheeky, and poke megumi on his side.
“how about we go shop for some gummy worms?”
BONUS — Y/N AND MEG’S FIRST MEET !
“who are you?”
the voice makes you jolt. you’re staring at your hands in the passenger’s seat of toji’s rented—no, probably borrowed—porsche, blinking away tears in your eyes when a tiny voice speaks behind you.
you whip your head around so fast your neck aches.
and standing there is a little boy, tiny, maybe four or five, rubbing away sleep from his eyes. his hair comes in tufts of black, and his eyes are blue, and oh my god he looks just like his father.
toji.
megumi is rubbing his eyes harder now. your heart melts.
“hi, baby,” you coo, patting away your own tears on your lashes. “i’m friends with your daddy. what’s your name?”
“i’m megumi,” he sniffles, yawns. “my friends call me meg. but i don’t have any friends.”
oh. “hi, meg. what’re you doing here? did your dad leave you home alone?”
you hope he says no, because you know toji’s been hiding something—someone from you, but he wouldn’t go that far. at least, you hope he wouldn’t.
“no, my uncles are at home,” he says sleepily. and you hover your hands over his face in silent permission. he blinks at your hands, sniffles again, before nodding to let you brush his hair back from his face. “i wanted to see daddy. he left for work.”
work? no he didn’t. toji zenin is outside, lifting the bonnet of a car he knows is too good to call his. “did he tell you he was going to work, meg?”
“no, but i know he is. he works for us. he wears the tie and he goes away.”
“oh, baby…”
toji zenin is a liar. a liar with a handsome face, and warm touch, and words that make your head dizzy. and you should be mad, really. you are, but the sight of this little boy with a face like his father’s only makes your heart ache.
you want to ask questions: who are your uncles? where were you when i came over? is your mother still in the picture?
but megumi zenin is blinking sleepily as you caress his cheek, leaning into your touch with a sigh.
“megumi, do you wanna make a deal?”
“what kind of deal?” megumi tries to rub his eyes, but you ease his fist away.
“a super simple one. your daddy’s been acting really strange, right? to you and me,” you pat his cheek. “all you have to do is act like we’ve never met, and i’ll give you anything you want.”
megumi thinks very hard. then he asks, “are you the lady daddy wants to impress?”
you blink. “what do you mean?”
“i heard him on the phone with uncle sugu,” megumi rests his head against your leather car seat. “he said he likes a nice lady. said he wants to be a better man for her.” he rubs his eye. “then he started leaving me. where’s daddy? i wanna talk to daddy.”
“oh, meg,” your heart breaks. “come here, baby.”
megumi hesitates, but then he lets you pull him into a hug. his hands are limp by his sides, but he pats your back once before his tiny hand slips away. “auntie, why are you crying?”
your shoulders shake over him. you sniffle, “don’t worry about it, meg. and your daddy’s gonna come back soon, okay? and he won’t leave you alone anymore. i’ll make sure of it.”
megumi pulls back. “you promise?”
you cup his cheeks. “i promise. go back to sleep, okay?”
EPILOGUE !
on the couch of toji’s crappy apartment, megumi zenin is curled into his father’s side, gummy worms in his mouth as he presses his sticky hands to the screen of his brand new ipad pro. a shiny gift from his loving uncle sato, who bought him the device despite suguru and toji’s wishes.
megumi offers his father a gummy worm. “when is auntie coming?”
toji eats it off his palm. “soon, kid,” he clicks his tongue. “swear you like her more than me now.”
megumi picks out five gummy worms from the jar, then lines them up on his ipad screen for convenience. “nah, i like daddy the most.”
toji softens.
all toji can see right now is the top of his little boy’s head, his tiny nose poking out and his chubby little cheeks. the ipad screen is sticky and candy smeared—much like megumi’s hands—and on the screen is a video of a teacup in a ballet dress—ballerina cappucina?—getting married to a little espresso man wearing a ninja bandana. toji frowns. the video gives him flashbacks to his days of working as skai jackson’s personal AI prompt writer. he shivers.
toji shakes his head. “meg, you know i’m never leaving, right?”
“i know,” megumi groans. “you told me a billion times yesterday!”
“quit whining,” toji murmurs, pulling his son into his lap. megumi reaches for his jar of gummy worms, and toji tugs it closer. “just wanted to remind you.” he mumbles.
megumi slumps against his father’s chest. soft, distracted, satisfied. “you don’t need to say sorry anymore. i forgive you.”
toji kisses his hair, burying his face in the dark strands. he sighs, “thanks, kiddo.”
———
when the doorbell rings, toji zenin is already half-asleep.
the sound—and megumi’s accidental jab of his elbow against his stomach—wakes him right up. toji smooths his hair, rubs the sleep from his eyes. then he turns to tell megumi to go wash his sticky hands, then decides not to.
he sucks in a breath and opens the door.
“hi, pretty.”
“move. i’m not here for you.”
you shove at his chest and push your way into the apartment, and on the couch to the right megumi zenin is there, ipad in hands and cheeks sticky and looking up at you with big, blue eyes.
“auntie?”
“oh, my baby!”
you scoop him off the couch and into your arms, and megumi clutches your shoulders tight as you attack him with kisses on his forehead, cheeks, everywhere. toji’s eye twitches in disbelief. “are we serious?”
“oh, you’re still here,” you glance over at him, bored. “meg and i are gonna make cookies today. mind being a doll and fetching the ingredients from the car?” you toss him your car keys.
toji looks at the keys in his hands. then you, who is cooing silly things that make megumi blush and bury his head in your neck.
toji pads over to you, slow. “i wanted to see you.”
you ignore his hands snaking around your hips. you turn your nose up at him, “and now, you have.”
“you still mad at me?”
of course you’re still mad. maybe not as mad as you were a week ago, but still upset. that he lied. that he thought so little of you that he went out of his way to sculpt a whole other life and hide away the little angel in your arms. but toji’s hands are still heavy on your hips. his voice is warm in your ear. and he apologized, you know. in the parking lot that day. at your house on monday, holding a bouquet of half-dead flowers and wearing a rented suit that went to waste because you refused to go out with him anyway. he sent you an hour long voicemail apologizing. you listened to it all on the way here.
toji zenin is such a sap.
he acts like he isn’t, though. but he is, and you feel it in how he presses his lips to your neck, over and over and over again. i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry.
megumi shoves his father’s lips away. “daddy stop.”
you laugh, nuzzling megumi’s cheek. “he’s such a dummy, isn’t he meg? do you think i should forgive him?”
“yeah,” megumi mutters, collapsing into your neck. “he said sorry a billion times to me yesterday. daddy’s really sorry for everything.”
“aww. daddy’s so cute when he’s sorry, isn’t he?”
toji is glaring at you. you can only giggle and press a kiss to his jaw, and his eyes widen a bit in surprise. you cup his jaw and press another one to his cheek. just one more, because you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t missed him as well.
“i forgive you, mister. now go get those groceries—shoo!”
toji nuzzles your neck before leaving the apartment.
megumi is still on your hip, clutching your shoulders for balance as you pick out pans and trays from the cupboard. he grips your hair in a tiny fist. “auntie?”
“hm, gummy?”
megumi hides in your neck—shy, nervous. “are you gonna be my new mommy?”
you freeze.
megumi clutches you tighter. his face is buried in your throat, and he’s gripping so tightly his little nails bite into your skin, but you soften. toji had already confessed everything in his voicemail. his mom isn’t in the picture anymore. how a mother can let go of a little angel like meg, you don’t know, but who are you to judge and conclude?
“i don’t know, meg, it’s too soon,” you hum softly, setting a pan on the tabletop. “but i know i’ll be here, baby. for you.”
“will you be at my school, too?” he peers up at you, big eyes glimmering with hope. “all the other kids have mommies except for me.”
“oh, megumi—of course i’ll be there!”
it’s taking everything in you not to carry this boy and run! you attack his face with kisses, and megumi squirms in your arms but he’s giggling. his hands are sticky on your face, neck, everywhere, but you kiss him over and over again, because you’ve only known him for a little over a week but you’re already ready to give him the world. “auntie, stop!” but he’s laughing. “there’s lip gloss all over me!”
when toji walks in, he can’t believe his eyes.
there are too many shopping bags in his hands, because everything about you is too much, even down to your shopping, and toji is staring in disbelief. the woman of his dreams in his kitchen, holding his son, and his son is laughing. laughing the way he used to before his mother left him two years ago.
and he doesn’t really deserve the warmth curling in his chest, or the strange feeling coursing through his veins, but who is toji zenin if not greedy?
so he drops the bags to his feet (gently, because you’d curse him if the eggs broke), and pads over to the kitchen where you’re showering megumi with affection, and he snakes his arms around your waist and drops his head into your neck. you turn, grinning, and you don’t push him away when he presses a quick kiss to your lips. the lips are honest, and now toji is too.
“aww, look at you getting all sappy.”
“auntie made my face all sticky..”
toji squeezes you both tight. a little greed never killed a man.
synopsis . In which you sign up for this specialized annual program called Sex With a Monster (S.W.A.M. for short). Only a select few get chosen to participate in varying breeding tests & experiments with—you guessed it—monsters! And after years of applying, you finally get accepted into the program. Only to find that it’s not exactly what you were expecting...
content . afab!reader, monster au, triple penetration (GULP), monster fucking (obviously), size kinks & differences, full nelson, reader is feral, lowk a crack fic, threesome, dabura & sukuna kiss, use of sukuna's stomach mouth, biting, feralness, breeding kink, dirty talk, filth, pet names, a veryyy pussydrunk dabura, dumbification, oral sex (f!receiving), mentions of: hybrid!choso, venom!toji, slenderman, vampire!suguru, and a cursed!satoru (there’s a lot going on in this), so.. so many cocks, bickering, implied squirting, etc.
word count . 8.2k || author's note: based on this request (and many others). this fic might be one of the craziest things i've written yet. not fully proofread, srry in advance! banner art by rororogi mogera <3
CONGRATULATIONS, YOU HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED INTO S.W.A.M. AS AN HONORED RECRUIT! YOU MAY COLLECT YOUR...
The rest of that email didn't much matter to you. In fact, you think everything after those first seven words could've been left out of the message entirely. You were so excited you nearly fell off your bed with a yelp of joy gleeing out of your throat.
It'd been four long years of trial and error trying to get into this damn program and it finally happened for you.
They only come around once a year for thirty-one days that always seem to fly by in the blink of an eye. In your first year of applying, you'd made a spelling error somewhere and they denied you. Stupid, right?
The second year you were under-qualified simply because you, "hadn't fucked enough people." And yes, it is as ridiculous as it sounds, considering anyone could lie within their application under that question that asks how much sex they've had within the past three months.
In the third year, you forgot to submit a "visual application" and they denied you once again. By this time you were starting to think the program was a scam and that there were just some creepy men behind the whole thing—tricking monster-fucking women into submitting intimate details about themself just for the hell of it.
It's not until this year that you realize this program was very much not a scam at all.
Your final attempt at getting into it was a success, resulting in that previously mentioned email that your eyes happily skimmed over. That, and you also had two other good friends who apparently had gotten accepted into it years ago, only deciding to spill the details of their experience now that you've been accepted.
"I had a great time when I went. Whatever you're thinking it is, I hope you know it's ten times better!" Yuki claimed. Apparently, she slept with some hybrid-wolf guy?
"No because I was actually upset they didn't send that one guy to me, y'know the one on the posters with the tentacles?" Your dearest Utahime had ranted. She got stuck with some dude with more eyes than arms—six to be exact—and evidently that turned her off from the whole experience.
Not that she didn’t go back a few times afterwards, though…
"Well, at least your monster had a face. I got a tentacle man but fuck, he was kinda boring since I was looking at a blank face the whole time." Your last acquaintance hummed in response to the previous statement.
There was a lot of information to take in and yet you were bright-eyed ‘n beaming with excitement upon listening to every little detail. This program asked its recruits for so much prior to acceptance due to the various things that could go oh-so-wrong.
After all, you were required to sign a waiver that said something about being okay with these tests possibly resulting in the loss of your own life. It was scary, sure. But you weren’t exactly thinking with your head whenever S.W.A.M. was involved.
Why would you be? One look at some hot, long-haired vampire who seemed to be the face of the program along with some other dark-haired brute with a freakishly long tongue, and your cunt was leading every decision of yours.
Not to mention the fact that this program housed all sorts of different types of monsters. Many were science experiments gone wrong and some were from entirely different worlds. And now that you were accepted into it, you'd finally be able to meet and sleep with one of them!
What could possibly go wrong?
——
"...Most have said it best if you follow their lead," Dr. Nanami Kento was in the middle of droning about while he led you to your designated "room of pleasure" or whatever he called it. "Some of our specimens here can be a bit... much to deal with, and if you'd like to walk out with the best experience possible, it is always advised that you let them do their thing and simply be compliant."
The two of you had been walking some lengthy hallway for what felt like hours now. Nanami was the first person to greet you upon your entry to the facility—which very much rivaled a prison on the outside, but looked to be a mix of a hospital and a hotel within its interior—and while you swear he's been walking you in circles, he's also explained to you a long list of rules that you'll need to keep in mind before you're to meet your monster.
All experiences in S.W.A.M. are unique and different. Even if two different people have slept with or been bred by the same monster, they both leave the program with two entirely dissimilar stories.
Along the walk to your designated room, you passed by many others that gave you glimpses of how many differing species occupied this place. There were definitely a lot that looked nowhere near human, but there were also a considerable amount that seemed to be completely human.
Which Nanami clarified for you that they were certainly not.
At some point, the two of you had reached an elevator and after swiftly stepping onto it, Nanami calmly pressed the button for the twelfth floor. During this, you took notice of how some floors had names attached to them. The sixth floor was for hybrids, the eleventh floor was for the undead, and somewhere around the fifteenth floor included spirits and fae.
You naturally found all of this to be most fascinating, but in doing so, you missed the name of the floor the two of you were heading towards.
By the time the elevator creaked its way there, Nanami had let you step out first and then proceeded to remain in place with a stoic smile stitched across his face.
You swirled around with wide eyes, "Uh-, Dr. Nanami? Are you not coming with m—"
"Good luck," was the only, and last thing the man said to you before rapidly mashing at the lobby-level button to his right.
Then the doors shut in your face.
You stared at your slanted, shimmery reflection for a long moment before sighing and turning back around to the short hallway. There were three doors; one on the left that said Simurian, another on the right that read King of Curses, and the last one set in the middle which held your name on it.
You think your eyes stretched open impossibly wider upon seeing it.
Did all people get their own room like this? What the heck is a Simurian and just who the hell is the King of Curses? Why did Dr. Nanami leave you like that?? And what did he mean by good luck???
You were only here for sexualized testing, right?
Pushing all these questions of yours aside, you paced forward slowly.
With every step you took, you couldn't help but notice how the door to your left seemed to be nearly ten feet tall. Over on your right, that door looked to be a few inches shorter but much wider.
Who or whatever occupied either room must have been freakishly huge. The thought of which makes you shudder before you finally slip into the human-sized door set for you.
Inside the room, you were met with a massive area. Everything looked as though it were twice your size—the bed, a table you end up walking past, a... a cuck chair(?), and a bunch of other stuff you didn't quite familiarize yourself with.
What caught your attention the quickest—aside from the large chair near the bed—was a file that was laid out on the only normally sized piece of furniture in the room, a dresser.
Curiously, you swiped up said file and were quick to open it. One of the papers inside fluttered out and elsewhere as soon as you did so, but you didn't pay it any mind since the first page inside captured all of your attention rather quickly.
It was a profile for someone named Dabura Karaba.
A picture of the man-, or, alien—as you come to know within the next few seconds of reading—sits up near the top left corner of the page.
There's a shit ton of information about him plastered all throughout the rest of the paper, going on to extend towards the back of it, and even a few more pages afterwards. But you skim over the majority of that just to read the details listed about his genitals.
Gross Morphology:
The phallus is retractile, measuring at approximately 7-9 cm in total length (base to tip), with a circumference of 6.5 cm at mid-shaft—when flaccid. The organ falls under the spectrum of beige in color [HEX: #c2b6a1 for reference — intermittently a hue lighter or darker dependent on lighting], with twisting veins that pulse at roughly 20 bpm—presumably reflecting circulatory activity. The hemisphere of the glans measure at about 5.7 cm in width, and secretes a viscous, petroleum-like lubricant (pH 7.5-8.0). The membrane is. . .
You think your mouth is watering by the time your eyes return to their skimming, one too many scientific words printed out across the paper for your concern.
That is, until the word erectile seems to stand out in its bold letters before you.
Erectile Dynamics:
Upon arousal (typically triggered by pheromonal, faint tactile, or visual stimuli) the glans reaches hues up to HEX: #7f737c — mimicking that of a flushed state. The phallus has then been measured to broaden rapidly, extending the full, non-curved, erect length of—
Unfortunately for your curiosity, your reading is cut quite short when the loud sound of something thumping against the wall causes you to flinch and redirect your eyes elsewhere. Though, you’re pretty sure you saw double digits following those last few words you read.
When you turn, you're met with the same being you've been reading about, who's currently busy with silently cursing your tiny doorframe for hitting the left tip of one of his horns. The alien is hunched over when your eyes make contact with him, but that changes within the next coming seconds as he steps into the room and quietly shuts the door behind him—clearly unaware of your gaze being on him.
The moment his eyes—all three of them—glide your way, you flinch like an idiot and let that document drop out of your hands as if you weren't supposed to be touching it in the first place.
Dabura is a brooding-looking creature, to say the least. He's got a great deal of staggering feet to his height, easily exceeding some inches over seven feet tall. You believe you feel a short shot of pain in your neck just from the angle of which it takes to peer up at his face.
Despite being an alien, he carries a humanoid frame and possess quite the lean, but well defined, musculature. The three eyes he had slipping along your build all carry irises with an redish-orange color in them. There's a pair of long, curved horns—that you'd love to hold onto later—which extend upwards 'n outwards from the side of his head.
You're gulping down a thick sum of nerves as your gaze travels to the expanse of his body in sync with the way he was doing to you. There's a plethora of dark markings plastered all along his neck, arms, and shoulders, which form these uneven, asymmetrical patterns out across his smooth skin. That, and there's even another marking encircling that third eye of his.
Which you note hasn't moved from your face from the moment he noticed you despite his other pair having carried right along...
Your ogling comes to an end just as you're admiring his elongated earlobes from where you are, catching how they run down to his abdomen and are adorned with more piercings than you can count.
"I presume you're the human I am to mate with?" His voice sends a cold chill straight down your spine. Not because it was scary or anything, but simply due to the fact that no human could ever possess such a soothingly deep baritone to their words in the way he does.
You gulp loudly enough for him to hear and the sound makes his head tip over just an inch as if curiosity has struck him. "Y-Yes," The first stutter out of your mouth already makes you want to find the nearest window and ju-, "That would be me, yes. Which means you must be..." You halfway saved yourself of embarrassment until you realized you'd dropped that file with all his information and somehow managed to forget his name already.
Shit, this whole thing is going poorly already and neither of you have even taken your clothes off!
Scrambling to the papers that fell earlier, you hurry to swipe some of them up in search for a name and don't even notice the way he stalks over to assist you until a large hand comes into view just above yours. Then you lift your chin up and the alien is crouched right in front of you while looking down.
Up close, you realize just how intimidating he really is. It was bad before when he was a few steps away from you but now that he's up close, you think you can feel your heart beat pounding against your ears as if to give you an audio representation of your climbing anxiety.
You'd spent four years trying to get into this program and now you finally had a monster (technically alien) in front of you but the only thing you could feel was fear instead of excitement. What a bummer—
"Dabura," The alien murmurs in a contrastingly gentle tone, bass consuming all bits of space in between the two of you and weirdly settling down that anxiousness of yours to replace it with something much warmer. Then all his eyes flick up to meet with yours again and his demeanor is strictly calming as he hums, "There's no need for papers to tell you my name when I am right in front of you."
You blink, letting the word, "Right," tumble out of your mouth all softly. Snapping out of your flustered stupor, you look upwards and notice the faintest scuff on his left horn—which reminds you of the noise you heard when he first came in. Then you redirect your hand to reach up towards it, "Did you hit your horn on the way in?"
"I did,” Dabura cuts off your traveling hand by grabbing onto your wrist and holding it a few inches away from their destination.
"Are they sensitive to touch?" You ask harmlessly, batting your lashes at the creature.
His expression falls impossibly duller, eyelids lowering as an unamused frown takes over his lips, "Every human asks me this, no."
You immediately raise a brow as if unconvinced, "If that's true then,” He sees the way your fingers wiggle before you go to move your other hand, “May I-"
His free hand shoots over to grasp at your other one as his eyes widen slightly. Grumbling, "No." with more firmness to it in hopes you’ll stop with your attempts at feeling on his horns.
Then you pop a pout, "You're no funnnn.”
The alien stares at you for a long moment, taking you all in just as you’d done earlier. You’re far prettier than any other human he’d been sent so far, and he feels his heart doing something weird each time you make a surprising advance to touch him.
But even so, he’s not about to let you get into something you clearly don’t quite understand yet. "Unless you should like to begin mating now," Dabura explains lowly, steadily moving your hands down and towards your lap, "No, you cannot touch them."
A smug smile breaks out onto your face and it makes his brows twitch. He watches as you quickly break out of that momentarily timid shell, "Oh, so they are sensitive!" you exclaim.
"They are not, they just-,” He cuts himself off and shuts his eyes, moving to pinch the bridge of his nose as he exhales strongly, “Human."
Your eyes roll, "I have a name too, y’know-"
"Do you wish to be bred against every available surface in this room?" Dabura interrupts, hoping to catch you off guard just as his initial appearance did.
Unfortunately for him, he’s in the presence of the world’s most eager human.
"Do you want my honest answer to that?" You ask with an unfairly cute grin on your face.
"I-,” He chokes whilst returning his eyes to you, “Pardon?" You act like you didn’t say anything unordinary and blink innocently. In which he’s left to let his shoulders slump a bit and begrudgingly say, "I am curious, yes. Answer me honestly."
That’s when you place your hands on the floor and lean closer to him rather cat-like, causing him to lean back out of shock and nearly fall completely on his ass despite being almost twice your size. "I would love if you fucked me against every surface,” You tell him with this little sparkle noticeable in your eyes.
In the time Dabura has been apart of the program, he can’t say he’s ever encountered a human quite as… enthusiastic as you. Plus, your sentence came out far more vulgar than his had—something he takes note of.
Which is exactly why his next words leaves him slowly, tone etched with concern, "...You appeared frightened by me just mere minutes ago."
"Yes,” You agree before looking down at the way he’s managed to lean back enough to nearly be positioned under you, “And now I'm aroused—in some places this is could even be called scarousal."
Dabura feels like you’re more of the foreign creature in the room as opposed to himself by this point. Letting his brows scrunch up, "I don't believe that's a word-"
"You're an alien, you only know so much,” You hush out in this purring tone that catches him off guard. Then you lift one of your hands and move to tap your index against one of his many, many abs.
His breath hitches and his lips twitch—threatening to smile from the experience of being teased by you.
Dabura’s got two eyes focused on the soft taps of your finger and the remaining one fixated on your face as he utters, "I like you, human."
"Thank you, alien.” You reply, sliding your finger over and tracing a few of his abs just to smile at the way he flinches under your touch. God, for a creature much larger than you and all intimidating, he sure was sensitive to the smallest of things. “I think I like you t-"
"May I taste you?" Dabura requests, throwing your entire focus off the rails.
"What?" You choke as an immediate throb feels out for your attention from in between your legs. Then you remember that he’s still a different species, and find yourself instinctively pulling away cautiously, "You mean like, sexually, right…?”
He snorts and your heart skips a beat at the realization he finds you most amusing when you’re confused. "Unless you have a preference for being devoured in a literal sense,” Dabura reaches for your wrist once more and pulls you closer, letting your palm meet his abdomen as he husks out a careful, “Yes."
"O-Oh. I mean, if that’s the case then of course." You agree with that same twinkle from earlier returning into your irises. Though, Dabura doesn’t miss the way your expressions vocalize your thoughts before your mouth does, "Wait, Dr. Nanami mentioned something about this testing being primarily for breeding.” You recall, moving away from the alien to stand up. “Eating me out will won’t really have anything to do with-"
"It will help." He insists as he too shifts around to bring himself up onto his feet. Then he gives you this look that has your thighs drawing nearer to one another, "And I'm sure that doctor of yours also mentioned how you are to listen to me."
You can’t exactly refute that, "Well-, wait, how do you know that?!"
Rolling his eyes only once as if he’d grown tired of this useless back and forth, Dabura presses forward and tutts, "You worry yourself with the wrong things."
After which, and before you have a moment to debate with him even further, he’s bent down to swoop you up ‘n over his shoulder as if you weigh nothing! One arm is tightly set around your thighs and the other comes over to place a hand against the curve of your ass to support you.
You feel all warm again as you realize how high up in the air he has you, considering how tall the alien stands.
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean-,” You’re cut off within the next few seconds by your body flopping down onto the bed carelessly, a soft oof lofting out of your mouth instead. You then shoot your inquisitive gaze upwards again and open your mouth to question him further, but find yourself rather speechless from the angle of which he now stands.
It was one thing to see him from afar, another to see him practically beneath you, but above you? Fuck, you couldn’t even help the way your thighs clamped shut—arousal daring to damp itself at your core.
Dabura is looking down at you for a quiet moment before drawing a hand up to his chin in thought and muttering, “Perhaps I should have tossed you the other way…”
You know you’re supposed to be following his lead but it’s a bit difficult to do that when all he’s said is that he wanted to taste you, “Huh? What are you-“
“Flip over,” He orders flatly, barely adding on, “Please,” after noticing the way you’d begun to glare at him.
You’re slow to do exactly that, and feel awkward in your every move—being watched so closely by some alien you’ve hardly gotten to know wasn’t exactly what you were expecting from this whole thing. You don’t know why, but you thought this process would be a lot more-
“I’m going to undress you now,” Dabura warns, his hands having met with the fabric at your hips.
You freeze before regaining your thoughts and then glancing back at him from over your shoulder, “I really don’t think this part is necessary for the-“
He interrupts you with an unintentionally rude sigh—as if your extra communication is the problem here and not his lack thereof—and moves his hand to the center of your back before applying pressure. The weight from his palm forces your upper half down against the mattress. Your face smushes right into the sheets and you let out a frustrated grumble in response to his curtness.
Then you could almost hear the smile in his words as he asks, “Is this the best you can arch?”
“Excuse me?” Your voice is muffled but he could make out what you were saying quite clearly.
Grinning to himself, “Your arch,” He repeats, biting back a snort, “Is this as good as it gets?”
You couldn’t tell if he was taunting you like this on purpose just to get a rise out of you or if he was being sincere but either way it was starting to annoy you. So much so that you lift your head a little and scoff, “How about I arch my foot into your a-ah! Hey,” Unfortunately, your words whisk out into a breathy sound rivaling a moan.
Dabura had deduced that right then, in the middle of your complaints, it’d be best to swipe his thumb against your crotch—bringing friction to your cunt through the few layers of fabric.
“For a human so intuitive, and uncooperative, you are quite wet.” He points out—making you furrow your brows as you wonder how the hell he figured that out from only one little touch. It’s not like you were leaking through your-, “What caused this, I wonder.”
With a bratty frown on your face, you pull your hips away from him slightly—not to reject his touches but simply to torture his desire to do so, “Not you, asshole.”
“Mmh.” Dabura is fully amused now. He’d never encountered a human quite like you. “Seems I forgot to add liar into that list,” He says playfully.
You gasp, “Excuse me-“
Your pants getting tugged down swiftly enough to cut your words off again, cool air slapping against your naked skin rather quickly.
“My, my…” Dabura gawks lightly. “You know, I’ve never tasted human pussy before.”
“Eh?” Your head pops up from the sheets and you look back over your shoulder, “You mean you’ve never given oral before?”
Almost sheepishly and in a stiffened manner, the alien shakes his head. “Many denied me from doing so, but you… You seemed so excited to mate with me, I only assumed you’d enjoy this just as much as I would.”
“Well-“
“And considering how…” The thick of his thumb presses in between your folds, rubbing against the fabric of your panties sluggishly, “…wet you are,” Then Dabura releases a parched sigh. “Why, it’d be improper of me not to get a taste. This entire program is based on sexualized testing, yes? Perhaps your cunt will take my seed best after being thoroughly licked.”
Talk about giving you fancy excuses just to eat you out…
You suppose you couldn’t blame him for wanting to plaster his tongue in your juices—after all, he did just say no other human allowed him to do so. Now, that does make you curious since Nanami specifically informed you to listen to your monster’s whims.
Perhaps he’d only done so based on this one’s past experiences? And that ‘good luck’ he gave you… what was that all about?
——
None of these questions of yours get answered anytime soon but they’re forgotten rather quickly with the way Dabura’s tongue had so feverishly met your twitching folds from beyond the layer of cotton that lay in the way.
You suppose he didn’t care much to move them aside just yet, as he seemed to enjoy toying with the material and liked the way you squirmed whenever he sucked it into his mouth—the raw feel of his plush lips grazing your bare cunt.
Even his decision to eat you out from the back left you curious. Hell, everything this damn alien did had you doused in concern. But of course, he hadn’t spared you a moment to dwell on any of them.
Especially not with those distracting grunts he let out by the time he finally peeled your panties down your clammy legs—hands gripped tightly onto your thighs to keep you spread open at the perfect angle for his tongue to lap inward.
“Mmmgh, yesyes,” Dabura groans, “Such a-, mmh, tasty lil’ thing.” His words slathered in between your pussy lips at varying angles, adding to each flicking movement of his tongue.
“Dabura,” You moan just as his mouth plucks away for a split second long enough for his teeth to bare. Then angles down just to nibble at your inner thigh for no direct reason other than wanting to feel you squirm against his hands. “I-I still don’t think you’re supposed to-, ngh!”
Again, you’re cut off by his actions—his mouth having returned to your poor, leaky entrance to swab over with his tongue. Then his hands pried your legs further open in an attempt at feeling your labia peel apart even more, tongue hot ‘n aching for more and more of your slick. You’re unsure of what exactly would satiate the alien’s thirst for you when he was already thrusting the majority of his oral muscle in between your walls.
Humans didn’t eat pussy like this, naturally. Not only was there a foreign movement to the way he fucked his tongue into you but the added factor of Dabura being clueless with his every move had you dazed. You wanted to tease him for the way he’d waddle his tongue around your clit for a second too short but he always seemed to make up for it by wiggling it deeeep into your pussy directly after.
It was almost like he wanted to smear your own taste around.
“What was that?” Dabura eventually mumbled against your sappy folds, letting you gush against his lips as he spoke, “I couldn’t hear you over my talkative girl down here.”
Your legs twitch as if to close but it’s to no avail. All while your voice has pitched off into whine after whine, “Y-Your?”
The alien pulled his mouth off of you after one more suctioning pop! and then sported yet another tiny grin, “Whilst you’re in this room, yes.” A fat glop of spit spanked out across your hole next and he moves his thumb to fuck his salive inward, “Mine.”
“O-Oh.” Your jaw flails open some and you feel yourself drooling from the instant he starts feeding his thumb to your cunt. It’s only one finger but fuck, nothing could quite compare to it.
Dabura tipped his head aside as he twirled his thumb around your insides, “You seemed to like that,” He pointed out hotly, breaths fanning into your skin, “Being called mine.“
Your hips did that thing they did earlier when you attempted to flee from the pleasure he’d provided for you, “I do, but-, hahh.. none of this is important for the-“
“Oh hushhh, woman,” Dabura drawls out, fully bored of hearing you remind him about how eating you out has nothing to do with breeding you. “…Allow me to have this in peace, won’t you?” He pulls his thumb out of your cunt and spits once again before tapping at the saliva—mimicking a spanking motion against your hole.
After that, you give up on your arguments. Partially because Dabura decides to replace his thumb with two stretching fingers, and also because he seems to realize he can stimulate you rather greatly with only one hand—digits lodged neatly into your entrance while his thumb runs across your glossy clit.
Of which he’s taken quite the liking to. One could even say he grows fond of the gorgeous bundle of nerves, drawing all sorts of shapes around it and loving the feel of it jumping whenever his other fingers curl into that spot against your inner walls you adore so much.
You’re brought to not one, not two, and most certainly more than three orgasms from his fingers alone. And which each one, you try—you really, really do—to remind him of what you’re here for, but he ignores you each time.
Eventually Dabura finds himself in this drunken state, having his slicked fingers biting into your skin while he devours your cunt sluggishly with his whorish mouth.
Moaning, “S’good,” as his tongue tickles in somewhere deeper than it had previously—almost as if the damn thing were growing! “So sloppy, fuuuck,” The last curse exits his throat in a whine and by this point his hips have been eagerly bucking against the massive bed. “I love the way your pussy feels on my tongue,” He babbles, grinding his hard cock down against the mattress—rocking the entirety of the furniture in the process.
Now, even though you’ve been occupied with having your cunt licked to utter numbness, you couldn’t ignore how needy Dabura’s other appendages seemed to be for you.
You knew the moment he got hard based on how much he adjusted himself against the bed. It was like the erection he carried in between those loose fabrics of his was a hindrance to him—oozing in precum excessively from the plump head and aching to dive in between the same lips he’d been lapping at.
His tongue is kissing at your clit right when he’s about to cum from doing so, but his orgasm is cut embarrassingly short by the way your room door flings open.
The poor door slams into the wall and Dabura lets out a very adorable yelp of surprise in between your legs.
So much for that intimidating aura of his, huh…
Even so, the sound he lets out, along with his flinching are both disregarded as he focuses back on the task at hand. He’s a little lazier with his feasting since he realizes the two of you have some company now but, again, this doesn’t stop him.
“You greedy fucking alien,” A new voice hoots out deeply, shucking the door away from the wall it slammed into just to shut it properly.
“Mmmnh, Sukuna, you ah-,” Dabura pauses his words to the newly entered monster just to sluuuurp! you right up one more time. A wet, sloppy smile spilt out across his lips, “You must come taste this. It’s like-“
“I know what good pussy tastes like, no need to explain it to me.” Sukuna cuts off, stomping his way into the room with his four eyes all fixated onto you. Pink brows furrowing, “I was a human prior to becoming this,” He adds on with a wave of his hand in Dabura’s direction, “Now move over.”
“…A bossy one, I bet.” The alien breathes out sassily, not paying the man any mind whatsoever and instead playing with the lips of your cunt by pulling them apart and then letting them fall back naturally after lifting his thumb away.
Ignoring his snarky remark, Sukuna ends up shoving poor Dabura out the way and letting his lower set of hands meet the purchase of your hips. One of his upper palms comes down to smack across your ass, making you flinch away from your previously dumbed-out state.
You lift your head and glance back, eyes met with a new creature that causes your jaw to fall open all stupidly. “A-And you are?”
Sukuna seems immediately ticked off by your lack of awareness, shooting a look over to Dabura and ignoring your question entirely. “What have you been up to with our toy so far?”
Toy? Surely he wasn’t talking about you…
“I’ve only licked her a few times,” Dabura claims—knowing all too well that few is beyond an understatement.
Sukuna seems pleased to hear that regaurdless. Sporting a haughty smile, “Have you?” He purrs before gripping onto the fat of your ass and pulling your cheeks apart to steal a glance at how swollen your folds are now, “Mh. That explains why she’s so puffy down here.”
Your face is still resting against the bedsheet but that doesn’t hinder you from mumbling, “M’not puffy…”
“Cute,” Sukuna comments shortly as he speaks as though you weren’t in the room with him. “She’s fucked-out already.”
“M’not,” You huff a bit louder this time, angling your rather wobbly arms to push yourself up on all fours.
You crane your head to get a full look at him, blinking past the blur of pleasurable tears that have built up along your lashline to take all of him in. Now, Sukuna was quite the sight for sore eyes.
While he was a bit shorter than Dabura in height, he surely made up for it in just about everything else. He had dark markings splayed out across his skin just as the alien did—but there was a clear difference in them. He also carried four eyes instead of the three you’d only just grown used to, all of which were red in hue and ever-so-glaring when met with yours.
There was a smirk on his face that never seemed to leave, stretching his pinkened lips out as if every fiber of his being were better-, or greater than you in every way imaginable. You wouldn’t call it smugness per-se, but there was something rather gloating about the way he carried himself.
You could only see so much of him with the way he was positioned behind you, having taken Dabura’s place entirely and left the alien to lay on the bed somewhere to your left. Even so, you did notice that Sukuna had two of everything except legs.
He had a bulky stature, muscles bulged and stretched out across his limbs. Your eyes felt as though they had little hearts in them upon meeting the mouth stretching across his stomach. It should’ve been grotesque to look at considering the way it moved all freakishly and almost carnally.
The massive tongue would lull out to lather across his lips and you’d get a hint of sharp teeth within your view each time he did so.
Up until that same tongue extended to swipe across just about everything in between your legs. “Oh? Then you wouldn’t mind this,” He’d said in response to your almost forgotten words.
Then you felt the slippery wetness draaag against the backs of your thighs, your jittery-spread pussylips, and even your ass with the way Sukuna took one greedy lick.
Your eyes bulged out all wide in reaction. The sight of which encouraged him to watch the way your expression contorted up as he focused the rounding tip of his stomach-tongue onto your cunt, bucking in dankly against it.
“Hnngh-, fuck.” You moaned before pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth and letting your back arch again, “W-What is your guys’ obsession with-, ohgod..”
The sweet sound of your voice was drowned out in your own pleasure as Sukuna’s tongue performed the same dances Dabura’s lengthy one had done just a moment ago.
“Poor thing,” Sukuna mocked, pouting at you to mirror the one sewn into your lips, “That dumb alien hasn’t given you any cock yet, has he?”
Your torso ended up falling once again as your hands went grabbing and tugging at the sheets to brace yourself for the full, greedy feel of his tongue. Then you shook your head in response and whimpered something along the lines of no.
Sukuna shot Dabura a look immediately. “Waited for me, didn’t you?” He taunted.
The alien no longer seemed amused and reciprocated Sukuna’s looks with a flat, irritated expression, “No.”
The pink-haired man rolled his eyes. “Mh. No matter, I see why you were occupied here for so long.” His attention returned to you and he found it most pleasing to watch you try to scurry further up the bed in an attempt at escaping that blinding pleasure his dewy tongue was gifting you with. “She is rather tasty.”
Even as you arched and moaned all over the place, you still managed to return to your focus of why you were here in the first place. There was no way you were about to let these two monsters make a pocket pussy out of you and only use their tongues with you!
“Can you just-, mmmph!” It’s quick that you learn Sukuna has even less of a patience than Dabura as one of his many, massive hands come to the back of your skull and push your face into the sheets.
He’s peering down at the way you wiggle your body in response, feeling pleasure begin to overstimulate your every nerve as his tongue invades every spongy spot of yours. “Has she been demanding all this time?” Sukuna asks the alien who seems quite bored now.
Dabura raises his eyebrows, surprised that Sukuna is acknowledging him again, “Yes, I believe she’d like to be bred.” He states, pointing out the obvious.
“Awh, too bad these tests are hardly for a human’s curiosity and primarily for our enjoyment.” The pink-haired man exhales—jerking his tongue back ‘n forth and backkk ‘n forthhh against the entirety of your soddened pussy, clinging to your clit and schlepping it around with his every move.
“Sukuna,” Dabura blinks, his eyes stuck on the motion of the man’s insistent tongue. He almost feels like his own was inadequate in comparison. “I do not believe you’re supposed to-“
Another cry is heard from you and the two are quickly distracted by the way your nails are beginning to tear at the bedsheets. Ah, Sukuna only then realizes that his tongue might just be too much for you after however long Dabura had his own on you.
Leading him to feel bad for you and gesture your way whilst directing his words to the alien at your left, “Hush her up, will you?”
Dabura frowns for the nth time. He didn’t much care to be ordered around by Sukuna like this.
…But that didn’t stop him from listening to each order he was given.
Which is how he ends up with his mouth against yours while Sukuna satisfies his incessant taste for you.
——
That continued on for… heavens know how long.
All three of you lose track and the only thing you can recall is the mixed feel of Dabura swallowing up your moans and Sukuna using his stomach mouth to play with your pussy like some toy.
It’s like you were the test subject in the room—not them. They both treated your body as if they’d never felt a human before or something. Which was weird considering the two of them have had their fair share of these tests before.
While Dabura was kissing you, his hands twitched with a need for exploration, soon traveling your body and fondling with your soft breasts. Every part of your body was left either marked or swollen from their many touches or bites.
And you don’t even remember how or when but you believe you were positioned on top of Dabura while Sukuna remained where he was behind you at some point. Because of this tangled position, Dabura was able to wrap his arms around you and keep you perfectly in place as Sukuna rubbed one—of his two—cocks in between the valley of your ass.
Within this position, the alien was beneath you with his own lengthy dick freed from the restricting fabrics of earlier—tugging at his shaft whilst feeling you squirm against him and whimper into his mouth.
That went on until both creatures had painted your stomach and your spine with their seed.
But, that wasn’t even where things really began.
No, no, things started—in your mind—when they let your body roll over from in between theirs and you were left to watch with dazed eyes as Sukuna grabbed at Dabura’s face and tugged him up. Then, erect cocks freed and tapping against one another upon all the movement, the two had exchanged one slow kiss in the name of “sharing your taste”.
You didn’t know what to make of it, really.
Was it hot? Well, duh. But for the most part you were wondering if this is what both of them had wanted the entire time.
Were you just some ploy in this little game of theirs? Is this what Dr. Nanami had meant when he told you good luck?? Or—
The loud, prominently wet sound of their lips detaching from one another catches your ears as it rings throughout the entire room. When you look at their faces, you note how softened Dabura’s features seem to be. His eyes seem utterly desperate to please as they veer upwards to meet Sukuna’s hardened expression based on the angle of which the two were.
Then Sukuna lifts a hand to wipe away drool from the corner of Dabura’s lips, cracking yet another smirk before looking over to you. “You’ve got my poor alien whipped, human. I’m impressed.”
You stare dumbfoundedly, “Huh?”
Sukuna snorts, “Can’t you see it?” Gripping at Dabura’s chin, he turns his face over for you to look at. “There’s nothing in this head of his aside from you. You should be proud of yourself.”
You chew on your bottom lip again out of fear of saying the wrong thing in response, moving your gaze onto Dabura who is in fact just as whipped as Sukuna described him to be—eyes glazed over with lust and barely wiped away drool staining the side of his mouth.
When you and the alien make eye contact, his pupils seem to dilate and his cock is twitching all over again. He hadn’t the words to describe it, but from the very moment he saw you standing in this room, he was left entranced by you.
Chuckling, Sukuna releases Dabura from his grasp and then pulls away. “I suppose it’s time we give you what you want, yes?”
Now your eyes were lighting up, “Please?”
“Manners, how cute.” Sukuna hums before running a hand through his hair with one hand and motioning for you to follow him with another. “Come, let me place you in the most effective position."
Within the next few minutes, you’re hauled up into a pair of the man’s sizable arms, legs straggled out within his hold as your pussy is left to drip ‘n spill slick out all over the floor. You were a mess but the two monsters accompanying you weren’t fairing any better.
Dabura’s still sat on the bed in a foggy state of arousal, the plummy head of his cock waving in the air as it globed with honeyed plashets of cum. He was sitting there in his own disorder, unable to move until he made eye contact with your unfairly pretty pussy again.
The sheeny gloss from your arousal webbed out ever so beautifully against your lips, hole pulsing softly as it begged to be filled properly. Tongues wouldn’t satisfy you anymore, that much was clear.
Sukuna’s peering over your shoulder as he holds you up like some trophy, “Don’t tell me you’re too pussydrunk to move, alien.” He chastises, “Come breed her with me before she runs out of stamina on us.”
Dabura snaps out of his momentary torpor and staggers up on his feet, quickly looming over the two of you in the next coming seconds. Then he brings a finger to your chin to tip your face further up and his voice is a small whisper, “Tell me something first…”
You bat your damp lashes at him in that same probing manner he’d grown to admire, the sight of which makes his heart feel weird again.
“How exactly did you prepare for this? I’m curious,” He asks.
You’re still hardly lucid so, your voice is at some cockdrunken pitch as words slide out of your throat, “I rode a uh-, t-thirteen inch dildo a couple times,” You explain, giggling in thought shortly after. “Took a while to get used to…”
Sukuna nuzzles into the crook of your neck like a big cat, “And you believe that has properly prepared you for three cocks? Fuck, you’re dumber than I thought—I like that.”
You grumble something short of a curse at him but the sound only makes him smile against your skin. Then Dabura is finally closing the distance between all of you and you feel his tip sloping up against your sex.
Few words are exchanged in the next few moments as the two decide it’s time to finally stuff you full.
The first dick that slides into you is one of Sukuna’s—the lower one—which is absurdly thick as it slots into your gushy hole. Following this is Dabura’s eager cock, which has throbby veins bumping against every crevice of your insides.
By this point you’re being streeeetched all the way the fuck out and think it damn near impossible to fit all three lengths inside you at the same time. One alone was more than enough to have your eyes crossing but two and eventually three?
Oh, you didn’t think you’d be able to feel your legs come next morning.
Though this was of very little concern to you. You came into this program to be bred by monsters and that’s exactly what you were determined to do—no matter how much your poor hole would have to be stretched open in the process.
And it didn’t help that all three cocks just kept bulging and twitching inside you, smooching over one another as they explored the inner depths of your sweet cunt. Something short of a cockdrunk smile was painted across your lips but you couldn’t really feel it.
The only thing you could feel were the three fat dicks wadding their way into you—along with the hot breaths all over both sides of your neck. Then came the gobbets of cum that filled your insides to the brim. So much so that it’d spilt out of your puffed labia and sogged onto the floor beneath the three of you.
They didn’t stop there though.
No, no, your monsters were just as determined as you were so they kept on with their uneven thrusts—Sukuna bucking forward each time Dabura sleethed his hips back, all whilst bouncing you up and down like a true fucktoy.
No other experience could quite compare to how used this one left you feeling, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Their mixed seeds schliiiicked ‘n sloshed around your gummy walls, sure to take after this prolonged session of feral fucking with the excuse of sexualized testing to mask it.
It’s not until you hear Sukuna and Dabura exchanging hushed words that you finally get an answer to at least one of your many questions.
“And if-, shit.. if that doesn’t work…” Sukuna’s steady humming towards the alien, “Dabura..”
“Yes?”
“I shall have to breed you next.”
A loong, awkward silence stretches on uncomfortably before he chokes in response. Batting his lashes, “What.”
MY EMPLOYEES ARE SECRET AGENTS [MASTERLIST] ✧.* Hybrid!JJKmen
SYNOPSIS ✧.* You are a mouse hybrid that opened a cafe in the middle of a town predominately of humans. The town never welcomed your presence but you’d get by with the small amount of customers you’d make. You never expected to make big profits your first few weeks of being open, let alone hire anyone in such a town in the countryside. But one evening a tall, buff, Snow leopard hybrid with snowy hair and odd rectangular sunglasses came up to your doorstep looking for a place to stay and a job. You let him in, of course, he was overqualified to even work as your employee after reading his resume. In what situation would you need for his mastery of martial arts and marksmanship? Unaware of his true reason mission for coming to this town. Along with the string of more hybrid men that’ll follow looking for job and a place to stay just like him.
TAGS ೃ⁀➷ Fem!Mouse!Reader , CAFE!au , SPY!au , HYBRID!au , fluff , crack , romcom , reverse harem , Shojo anime insp. , Ohshc insp. , No use of “Y/N” , WARNING! BODY HORROR! , slightly suggestive , OOC? , Boss!Reader , Employees!JJKmen , SecretAgents!JJKmen , violence , Contains themes of discrimination/Prejudice/Bigotry , No smut . . . Yet.
Pairings! Gojo x Reader!! + Nanami x Reader + Geto x Reader + Sukuna x Reader + Toji x Reader + Choso x Reader
baby!yuji acting like his Uncle Sukuna to protect you from flirts
≈ 898 words
masterlist
"VROOOM VROOOM!" Yuji squealed, his tiny, dimpled hands gripping the shopping cart as if it were a steering wheel while he sat inside it.
You leaned your weight into the handle, making a dramatic turn as the wheels squeaked in a drift, sending Yuji into a fit of breathless giggles. Every time someone passed by, Yuji chirped, waving so hard his whole little body rocked as he greeted every stranger.
"Oh, what a little sweetheart," an elderly woman cooed. Yuji gave her a toothy grin, his cheeks puffing out until his eyes crinkled into happy crescents. He lived for the praise, wiggling his little toes inside his sneakers.
Turning into the snacks aisle, you spotted the bag of chips Sukuna liked on the top shelf. You reached up, toes barely touching the ground, when a tall shadow loomed over you, and a man reached over, grabbing the bag for you.
"Here you go," he said, handing it to you with a lingering look. He leaned against the shelf directly in front of you, his eyes travelling over you in a way that made your skin prickle with discomfort.
‘Thank you,’ you said, voice tight as you placed the bag into the cart and continued moving ahead in the aisle.
"Is this your kid? He’s a cute little guy," the man said, falling into step beside the cart. His voice dropped into a cheesy, flirtatious tone.” You're way too pretty to be wandering these aisles all by yourself doing the heavy lifting."
You kept your eyes fixed forward, pointedly ignoring him. Beside you, the giggling stopped. Yuji went dead silent. He stood up in the cart, planting his feet firmly. His tiny arms crossed over his chest, his head tilted back with a chillingly familiar expression. He narrowed his eyes, looking down his nose at the man with pure disdain.
"No," Yuji said, his voice lacking its usual toddler pitch, a tone that resembled his uncle’s arrogance. "You can’t have her."
The man blinked, looking from the small child to you, his brows furrowing. "Uh, kid, I’m just talkin-"
"She belongs to my Unckuna," Yuji interrupted, his lip curling into a tiny, fierce scowl. He clicked his tongue, “Go away, brat."
The man’s face flushed a deep red. He looked at the toddler, who looked ready to pounce on him. At first, he giggled nervously, but then looked at you, who was watching the little boy with quiet pride. He hurried away, muttering something about “weird families”.
As soon as the man disappeared, Yuji’s shoulders slumped, and his eyes grew wide and watery, leaving behind a little boy who suddenly looked very small. He reached his arms up high, his fingers wiggling for a hug.
You scooped him out of the cart instantly, holding his warm, trembling body against your chest. He buried his face in the crook of your neck.
"Are you okay?" he whimpered, his voice muffled against your skin. He pulled back just enough to hold your face with his chubby hands, his expression frantic with worry, "Was I brave? You're not gon leave me right?"
Your heart squeezed with so much affection it almost hurt. You peppered his face with kisses until he started to giggle and squirm. "You were the bravest boy in the whole world, Yuji. I would never leave you. Thank you for protecting me."
Yuji let out a long, dramatic sigh of relief, head dropping onto your shoulder as he had just lifted a mountain. " ‘M tired now," he murmured. “Being brave is hard.”
The front door had barely clicked shut when Yuji scrambled out of your arms.
"UNCKUNA UNCKUNA! I SAVED AUNTIE FROM A BIG BOOGER”
Sukuna was in the bedroom with a pile of laundry on the bed when he looked up, watching a pink-haired blob charging at him. Yuji skidded to a halt in front of him and immediately launched into acting, puffing his chest out.
"There was a big booger, A big one! He was talking to Auntie and being ‘noying! I had to use my scary face that you taught me."
Sukuna leaned against the dresser, his eyes shifting to you, eyebrows raised in a silent question. You leaned against the doorframe, smiling and nodding. "And what did you tell the booger?" Sukuna asked, his voice a low, amused rumble.
Yuji stopped, planted his feet wide, crossed his arms, tilted his head, and held the deadliest scowl a toddler could muster. "I told him he was a brat! I told him Auntie belongs to you and to go away!"
A slow smirk spread across Sukuna’s face. He reached down, hooking his hands under Yuji’s arms and hoisting him high into the air before settling him on his forearm.
"Is that so?" Sukuna’s gaze moved to you, filled with a possessive pride that made your heart skip. He ruffled Yuji’s hair roughly yet affectionately. "That’s my boy. You did well, brat. You’re a natural."
Yuji chirped with joy, throwing his arms around Sukuna’s neck, while Sukuna reached out his free hand, fingers tangling with yours to pull you into his side. He leaned down, lips brushing your ear as his voice dropped into a low rumble. “You okay?’ he asked. When you nodded, leaning your head against his shoulder with a sigh of content, he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Good,” he murmured, grip tightening.
notes:
a lil happiness after the angst
divider: @uzmacchiato
unhealthy behavior and suggestive content. obsessive yuuta headcanons requested by oomf! if you like the way i characterize him, you can find more in my series. requests are open <3 jjk masterlist
⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta still loves you gently no matter how strongly he feels about you, let this be known. he touches you like you’re fragile, brings you small gifts, and holds onto every single word you say. he treats you delicately, as one would a dandelion.
⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta always seems to be exactly where you need him to. forgot something somewhere? he has it. you feel unsafe? he’s already there to step in. you stop asking how he already knows; it’s probably only coincidence.
⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta has big puppy-dog eyes you struggle to resist. you don’t always want him to tag along to places with you, or sit in your room while you change, but how can you say no to a face like that?
you have a hard time being mad at him even as he blatantly crosses your boundaries. whenever he’s invasive in his actions or words, you redirect him, whereas you would’ve literally ripped into anyone else.
he’s definitely cried a few times as you’ve scolded him for disrespecting you. yet deep down, his little pout makes you want to apologize for having autonomy.
⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta stole your favorite perfume from your dorm and sprays it onto his pillow. your addictive scent lulls him to sleep when he’s having trouble dozing off. it also makes it easier to pretend you’re to him closer than you really are.
on late nights, he buries his face into the pillow, inhaling your scent and muffling the sounds he makes to the thought of you. he imagines your hands touching him instead of his own, since he can’t have the real thing yet.
⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta starts to resent rika for existing. he tries everything in his power to convince you he isn’t still hung up over the dead first love he carries with him. it doesn’t help that she’s so possessive and aggressive toward you. how can he be with you if a curse won’t let him?
he speaks to her differently after the day she attacks you out of jealousy. his tone turns stone cold, and his previously kind requests of her become demands. he’ll sharply order her around, then turn to you and speak sweetly with a soft smile on his face.
rika’s apologized many times since then, but he’s made up his mind.
⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta’s cursed energy literally wraps itself around you if you’re nearby, especially when the two of you are around other people. it’s awkward when you’re in public around non-sorcerers, who can’t tell that you’re being engulfed by such pressure. sometimes, you swear you can feel it even when you’re supposed to be alone.
⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta has to pretend he doesn’t already know about all of your interests and routines. he used to slip up at first, but he’s gotten a lot better at sounding clueless. he’s sure to ask about your day and listen intently because he loves the way your eyes light up as he shows interest in you.
plus, if you’ve already told him about your day, you have no reason to talk to anyone else about it!
⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta takes on some of your missions behind your back. he can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt, especially at the hands of some foul, disgusting, creature. when you find out he’s been interfering with things, he apologizes profusely and continues to do it anyway.
⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta makes everyone around you feel on edge. they’re worried about you. they see the way he stares at you while you’re unaware. they feel the atmosphere shift whenever you’re affectionate toward others. they’re hesitant to even say your name in front of him because of how much his demeanor changes.
⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta had a meeting arranged behind his back by the group while he was visiting the sister school. your friends sat you down and asked if he’s done anything to harm you. you told them you were a bit weary, but “he just has a big heart, that’s it.” they looked unimpressed. as they left, you could’ve sworn you heard panda mutter “stockholm syndrome” under his breath.
⋆˚꩜.ᐟ your friends trust yuuta not to hurt them… they think. but they don’t miss the way his face drops or his grip on something tightens when he thinks they’ve said something wrong to you. they love you dearly, but do start to avoid you a bit. if you do talk, they’re paranoid and constantly checking for him over their shoulders. just in case.
⋆˚꩜.ᐟ the kyoto students, however, think yuuta’s a fucking freak. his performance in the goodwill event was outstanding because of his skill, of course, and you. he caught kamo and miwa planning to ambush you and immediately stepped in. they barely escaped with their lives, but thankfully, you managed to calm him down before he could go too far (well. further.)
gakuganji and utahime were both horrified and appalled, while gojo simply chalked it up to yuuta's “amazing fighting spirit!”
when todo asked what his type was, yuuta described your body with a dazed expression. mai was disturbed by this interaction.
⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta was distraught once he noticed you pulling away from him. he hadn’t meant to scare you, but seeing them so close to harming you made him snap. and god, did your absence make him feel sick. he was physically repulsed by himself for upsetting you.
“i made her mad, i hope i die.”
“stfu yuta it’s your turn”
“oh, draw four”
“damn it!”
⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta dropped onto his knees in front of you and groveled for forgiveness, swearing not to do anything like it again. he probably didn’t mean it, but it felt like the truth at the time. when you forgave yuuta while cupping his cheek, he felt as though he was being touched by an angel. he didn’t think he deserved you, or your forgiveness, but since you gave it to him he took it gratefully.
⋆˚꩜.ᐟ whenever your classmates bring up yuuta’s behavior to gojo, he waves them off and tells them they’re only being dramatic. gojo is, of course, lying off his ass. he thinks the kid’s a little weirdo who probably shouldn’t be left alone with you. however, he’s banking on you to awaken his potential. it’s definitely a risky plan, but gojo’s known for throwing his students to the wolves.
⋆˚꩜.ᐟ maki once caught yuuta licking the blood you left on his hand after he patched up your wound. when she told gojo about it, he simply smiled and said “kids these days are so passionate!”
⋆˚꩜.ᐟ gojo’s hunch did end up being correct despite his questionable methods. after seeing you and the rest of the first years injured during the night parade of a hundred demons, yuuta’s growth was triggered over his emotional state. he surpassed his limits over his pure rage from seeing you hurt.
⋆˚꩜.ᐟ gojo doesn’t say it outloud, but one of the reasons yuuta was sent off to africa was to have some space away from you. he thought the distance will be healthy and better for… everyone, really. he also got tired of being nagged because apparently his student raised concerns about “safety” and “endangerment”, which he rolled his eyes over
⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta is sure to call you at least once a day while he’s gone. he doesn’t think he could survive without hearing the sound of your sweet voice. he sends you good morning/goodnight texts around the time he remembers your schedule being while he was with you.
he values every single picture you send of yourself, so much so that he replies to them while typing with one hand!
⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta doesn’t go to sleep until hours after he’s supposed to be just in case you call him. what if there’s an emergency? what if you’re in need comfort? what if you accidentally buttdial him and he misses out on an interaction with you because he was asleep? he can’t just abandon you!
⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta appreciates you just the same, if not more, once he returns. except this time, he’s stronger and unafraid of the curses that plague the world. he’s open about his feelings and has learned to control his copious amounts of cursed energy. he’s trained so hard and dedicated himself to protecting you (and the rest of humanity, he supposes).
he’s come to trust that your classmates won’t cross any lines with you. they’re his friends, so he knows they’ll respect his feelings. the same can’t be said about the other sorcerers or random guys on the street who ogle at you.
yuuta doesn’t trust that itadori guy, either. while he was away, toge reported that he was “making eyes” at you every time you two trained together. yuuta reveled in chasing and killing yuuji for the higher ups before unfortunately having to revive him. he may have brought him back, but now yuuji knows he’s someone to be feared.
⋆˚꩜.ᐟ most in his position have a mindset of “mine, mine, mine,” but i believe he’s the opposite. he loves you and he’s yours. yuuta’s positively sure you’ll own his heart until the day he dies <3
