Being a Peter Parker fan in this day and age is so hard bc the writers will NOT let up. Parents dead. Uncle dead. Bullied in school. Aunt dead (not permanently). Media hates him. Girlfriend dead. Cloned multiple times. Married. Marriage erased from history via demonic magic. Body snatched. POOR.
𝜗𝜚 you thought you could keep Shiu and Toji separate, but they find out they’ve both been keeping you company. → 18+ minors dni • dp, throatfucking, size kink, hair pulling, degradation, spit
You didn’t known what you were doing. To let two men like Toji and Shiu orbit your life in the way that they did. Both extremely dangerous men in their own right, both intoxicating for completely different reasons.
Toji was fire—wild, unpredictable, the kind of heat that burned no matter how close or far you stood. He touched you like he owned you, like your body was nothing but his to claim, and every time he left, you swore you wouldn’t let him back in. But then he’d flash that sharp grin, voice dropping low with a promise you couldn’t resist, and you’d fold all over again.
Shiu was different. Cold steel where Toji was fire. He didn’t rush, didn’t push—he watched. Calculated. And when he finally did move, it was deliberate, merciless in its own way. He wasn’t as rough as Toji, but he was no less overwhelming, overstimulating. His presence lingered in your bones long after he was gone, like a bruise you couldn’t help pressing on.
You told yourself it wasn’t love. Couldn’t be.
Because the truth was messier. The truth was the way you ached for both of them, the way you caught yourself comparing their touches, their voices, the way they each made you feel small in their shadows.
And the truth, the dangerous, stupid truth… was that one day, they’d find out.
You believed that day would never come, and if it did—they wouldn’t be yours anymore to do anything about it.
But turns out, you were so.. so wrong.
It happened on a night that wasn’t supposed to mean anything. Just another impulsive decision, another call you shouldn’t have made. You’d gotten used to compartmentalizing, to keeping them in separate boxes, never overlapping.
Toji for when you craved chaos.
Shiu for when you craved control.
But fate—or maybe your own recklessness—didn’t care much for boundaries.
You thought you were careful. Careful with the way you scheduled, with the excuses you fed them, with the mask you wore each time you slipped into their arms. Careful with the bite marks you covered, the phone calls you let go unanswered, the perfume you swapped out.
But the universe is cruel. And men like Toji and Shiu don’t miss things—not for long.
One noticed the bruises shaped wrong. The other noticed the tone in your laugh, just slightly off, like someone else had already pulled it from you.
And on that night—both of them decided to show up.
At the same place.
At the same time.
For you.
“Spread ‘em wider. C’mon, don’t get shy now,” Toji muttered, dragging the blunt head of his cock along your folds, smearing you open with slow, taunting pressure. “You’ve been takin’ him so well behind my back, yeah?"
You gasped when he slammed into you without warning, the stretch brutal, his hips smacking against yours hard enough to make the headboard rattle.
Meanwhile, Shiu stood in front of you—fisting your hair as he used your throat with ruthless precision, giving you nothing soft, nothing kind—only raw, unrelenting desire.”
“Fuck—look at you,” Shiu hissed, tightening his grip on your hair to keep you right where he wanted. His hips snapped forward again, harder this time, and he let out a low groan when your throat squeezed around him. “Just a toy between us, aren’t you? Can’t even breathe without a cock filling you up.”
He smirked down at you, sharp and unyielding. “Bet you love this, huh? Too dumb to decide which one of us you want more—so you let us both ruin you.”
His thumb brushed across your spit-slicked lips, pressing at the bulge in your cheek where he sat deep. “Open wider. Show me how much you can take.”
Your gag muffled against him, and his eyes narrowed, pleased.
Toji dragged his cock out slow, letting the string of spit stretch between your lips and his tip before driving back in with no mercy.
“Pathetic,” Shiu rasped, voice cool but dripping with disdain. “Drooling all over yourself just to keep me happy. Don’t pretend this isn’t what you wanted—two cocks using you till you can’t think straight.”
Toji’s eyes dropped to where his cock disappeared inside you, the way your walls clenched around him so tight it made his jaw twitch. He liked watching you fall apart like this, caught between him and Shiu, stretched and stuffed until you could barely make a sound. Toji always knew you were greedy—but seeing it? Feeling it? It only made him drive into you harder, daring your body to take it all.
Shiu, on the other hand, was calm in his cruelty. He thrived on the way your throat convulsed around him, slick and messy from spit and precum. Toji might’ve been obsessed with the way your cunt gripped him, but Shiu’s focus stayed on your eyes—glassy, frantic, full of desperation. It made him smirk, made him thrust deeper, just to watch you choke.
Between the two of them, you were wrecked—body trembling, voice reduced to broken sounds. You managed to rasp out, voice strained and needy:
Synopsis. First time manhandIing you = his first time going wild.
Pairings. [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, manhandIing, pússydrúnk men, STRONG JJK men, rough s, choking, bending, pulling, spítting, getting tied up, matíng presses, true form Sukuna, dp, tummy buIges, cervíx kíssing, GOJO’S POWERS, cursed energy, they go FÉRAL, dúmbifícation, running from it, creampíes, slight cúmplay, pet names, swéaring.
A/N. Have a little surprise for you babygirls at the end~
♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - P*ssy KiIler!
“Oh, Toji—ngh! Toji-”
“Whaaaat?” Toji himself can’t help but roll his verdant eyes, smushin’ those cute cheeks of yours together as you squeal. “Got somethin’ to say to me, mama?”
And the only thing you can do is whine- each n’ every babbling word being pushed out of your lungs by his furious hips. He was grinding you into the mattress with his reddened tip, like he was trying to leave you spellbound.
Like he was trying to make you gape, eyes snapping open at the wad of saliva that glues to the side of your lips. Toji’s spitting between your puffy mouth and thumbing it messily all over, snickering. “Maybe this’ll help ya say it straight, heh…”
“I-I want-” Almost proving his point, you’re clawing at the roughened hand that keeps a firm grip on your face. Hiccuping, “I want you to…manhandle me, Toji.”
Oh.
You’re left slightly confused by the way he falters, blinking tearily upwards and—oh.
The look on Toji’s ruggedly handsome face was agonized.
Scarred lips slightly parted, eyes falling half-lidded, temple beading with sweat. You’re feeling a sudden thrill run up your spine at just the way he was staring at you through his shaggy, raven bangs.
Heavy cockhead roverin’ inside you on autopilot, the swollen end of his shaft suddenly twitching. Leaking. Impatiently, you grip onto his wrist, moving Toji’s hand from squeezing your face to your throat. “Like- like this.”
And that just makes his aching cock drool.
That just makes him shove both your useless, limp legs over his shoulders in a startling motion and bend. Down, down, down—it didn’t matter if you weren’t ready for the stretch, it didn’t matter if your head was still laid across the pillows.
Toji’s using his nearly inhuman strength to fold you straight in half like a lawn chair; your knees on top of his deltoids, the backs of your thighs against his abs. You could feel them flex n’ tense as he pushes you into the meanest mating press possible, “Like this, huh?” Breathing out in scorching pants against your face.
And you’re whining, feeling your stomach drop at the feeling of your ass cheeks being lifted cleanly off the bedsheets– fuck, what have you gotten yourself into.
“I dunno, you tell me, doll.” Toji’s grunting, starting to plunge his fattened shaft into you once again. “Don’t hah- tap out now.” Over and over and- shit, had you said that previous thought out loud?
You don’t even have the time to be embarrassed.
Because just then he’s granting you with the most vicious strokes of his slick-glazed cock, purposefully rubbin’ the zig-zagged patterns of his veins along your tiniest orifices. Once. Twice. Thrice. Pap-pap-papping into each and every spot- Toji crashes the crown of his flared tip against your sweetest area and you sob.
“P-please! Oh my god it feels so- mmpf!”
And he has the audacity to chuckle as he’s halting your shrill noises with the hand ‘round your throat, tightening your airway. “Be careful what’cha ask for, doll—” Toji’s plump lips curve up into a grin, and you can only watch with bated breath as his free hand reaches behind his neck.
Easily finding your jelly-like ankles, he pins them together with only one of his palms. Interlocked. Held tight. The beefy muscles of his biceps bulge at the pure strain of keeping you from moving, “-because it might just- haaaah- get- ya- fucked-”
Each word is ended off with the most vulgar thrust.
From the plump, puckered crown of his shaft, all the way to those curly hairs at his base. All of his solid inches were smushing into your gummy insides, stirrin’ around wildly.
You’re moaning out a storm, voice reaching a fever pitch at the rude whacks of his cock. “H-how are you reaching so deep-” Because, truly, the flexible angle was slithering his entire length in even deeper.
And even the probes of his globular, glistening cockhead were so pressurized. Pushin’ against that spongy cervix at the back of your pussy, and sending you careening inches backwards-
Which Toji wasn’t a fan of.
“Ah ah. Didn’t I say no mmm, tapping out?” He’s spitting through his grit teeth, a few veins popping out on his large arms as he brings you right back to him with the hand on your throat. Toji’s manhandling you to strike your hips against his toned pelvis, now moving you just in time with the sloppy cadence of his cock.
Barely even letting himself go a mere split-second without feeling the softness of your cervix, before he’s kissin’ it with his creamy, reddened tip again. “So if ya can’t handle it- don’t ask.”
You watch as a slow line of perspiration drips down the side of his forehead, only growing the faster he’s moving you like a ragdoll. Dragging you.
And by now the feeling of your dripping wet entrance suctioning up n’ down his cock was just hypnotizing. Was just spurring him to babble with pussydrunken madness, “If ya can’t- hah, handle it- don’t get- fucked- by me.”
“I-I can I can—” You’re wheezing out, the front of your swollen pussylips starting to sting at the slamming staccato. It just felt too good.
Humming, “Ohhh, ya can?”
“Y-yes.”
There’s a particularly loud thwack! of skin on clammy skin, and Toji’s gluing his drivelling tip to your womb. So hard that you can’t help but throw your head back against the soft bed, toes curling upon impact.
“You don’t fuuuucking know what you’ve awoken, doll.” Toji warns, leaning down so that he can bite down on the tender shell of your ear. Leaning down so his bulging erection sags weightily inside of you. “No fucking clue.”
He could almost cum just from that cockdrunk expression on your face; teary pupils criss-crossing, mouth dripping into a soft ‘o’ at the feeling of the stretch each time he slides in.
And oh- he has to stop himself from filling your sugary pussy up already, he has to slam the front of his palm down on the headboard just to pull himself together. White-knuckling the mahogany hard enough that you’re hearing a low—
CRACK!
He’d broken it- straight down the middle. And Toji doesn’t even stop, he doesn’t even slow down as you’re both snapping your heads up at the shattered bedframe.
Only shoving the thick length of his cock in a lecherous thrust that makes you look back down at him. Grinning, “You’re next.”
♡ NANAMI KENTO - Gentlemen SNAP-
“My love—” Nanami groans, fighting the urge to let his clammy head fall back against the pillows. “It feels so good…”
You were riding him in sensual, slow motions. Just letting the long, veiny length of his cock rummage around your insides, you let out soft gasps as the curvature of his cock pierces you so perfectly. “Mmm, feels good t’me- hah! too, Kento.”
“That’s it, my darling.” Lovingly gazing into your eyes- you’re just so pretty like this.
With your whirling irises slightly teary, with your pussylips sobbing a glistening wet sheen all down his abs. And once Nanami bashes his swollen cockhead into your cervix, it’s just so soft that he can’t help but perk his hips up a bit and rut—
Both of you gasp.
You’re scrunching your eyes shut, mewling at the sudden feeling of his probin’ thrust. And he’s groaning, pushing his fogged glasses up his nosebridge with apologies on his tongue. “My- my apologies, my wife, I didn’t- ngh, mean to-”
“You can manhandle me if you’d like, baby.” You interrupt him mid-sentence, fluttering your lashes in just the way that made his furious red cocktip weep.
“B-but-”
“In fact…” Trailing off, you’re then taking his left hand in yours. Guiding it to cling onto your hips, you’re making Nanami move you in just the slight sultry gyration that makes his head throw back. Grunting. Thighs shaking as he fights off the urge to just fuck into you animalistically. “-I’d like it if you manhandled me- oh.”
Sternly, “You know what’ll happen, darling…”
“What?”
“You know.”
And the longer you were keeping him talking, the more n’ more he was being ruined. With his Adam’s apple bobbing in a parched way, his neat crescent fingernails digging into your skin, hips humping up into you in short, jerky grinds.
You’re purring, “Well maybe I forgot- oh, fuck.”
Just then, he’s swervin’ his fat, heavy cock into you like he was trying to brand the feeling inside your pussy. Like he was probing into the very back, sliding a wet stripe of precum down your cervix-
“No-” Nanami rasps out, looking down with partially-lidded eyes between your shaking legs. “No, I don’t think you did.”
“Fuck, Ken-”
“Big girls should stick to their, mm, word. Don’t you think?” Huffing, heaving. He was nearly as ruined as you were when one hand of Nanami’s reaches behind your scalp to hold onto your neck and make you beeeeend your spine backwards.
Another one of his roughened hands reaching for your hips to massage the flesh there, to keep you in place.
And then, suddenly, he’s the one setting the pace. He’s the one sloppily stirrin’ his hips upwards, bashing the plump end of his shaft into every nook and cranny.
You whine as you’re jostled on top of his muscular body, the throbbing nub of your clit dragging down his golden happy trail. You chase it, but Nanami catches the act and chuckles, “That goes for you, too, darling. Don’t think you’re hah- getting out of this.”
“I-oh, fuck.” It’s such a primal stretch.
And your husband’s more than happy to use his honed strength to push apart your legs even further. “So open these- a little wider-” To manhandle you on top of him. “Yeahhh, that’s it.”
It makes you shake.
It makes you loll your dizzy head forwards and scrape your walls down every inch he’s providing you with. Again and again. The winding lines of his veins were just opening you up so well, and Nanami knows just the perfect tempo to hammer into you.
So that when you’re clawing down the plush muscles of his pecs, attempting to chase the imminent sparks of your high- he only tuts. “Ah ah-” Squeezing your hips, the movements of his hands only get harder. Faster. “You’ll be cumming because of- hah, because of me, my love.”
“B-but I’m so close-” Lips wobbling out an answer.
“Mhmmm, and you’ll be cumming because of what- fuck- you wanted.” Before you know it, one of his hands slips down to squeeze your clit. Nice n’ puckered for his rude fingertips to hold and pinch and draaaaag. The other physically dragging you up n’ down his upright cock, up n’ down up n’ down.
Until sparks explode behind your eyes and his name is the only thing you can repeat. And the blond-haired man was only smug at the effect this had on you. “Wanted me to rough you up, my lil’ wife? Fuck, I’ll rough you up all you want. Trust me-”
“Oh please-” Manhandling you to lay down across his chest now, drool seeping out like an ocean. “M’not gonna last- please-”
“I will-” Nanami whispers against your ear, breaths heady. And the murky entrance of your pussy only bawls as his thrusts grow harder. Faster. “-rough- you- up, darling.”
“P-please-”
And then you’re cumming. And Nanami doesn’t waste a second - he doesn’t even waste a fractured moment - before flipping the two of you over, just as you’re hit by your high.
Blinking back tears, body limp underneath his touch.
“M’cumming- cumming, ngh- cumming—” You’re so overcome by the zaps of electricity that run through your body, stemming from your weepy core, that you don’t even realize he’s pushed you into a mating press.
Blinking your dewy eyes open, you’re gawking at the way he was bending you already- thighs on his shoulders, your knees near your tits. Completely in half and he was barely breaking a sweat.
“A m-mating press?” Your jaw drops, thighs still shaking from the wave of euphoria. Your husband was fucking you through it perfectly, letting each swab at your insides elongate your high. “Shit- Kento you’re gonna-”
“Inside.”
It’s all that eloquent, sensible Nanami Kento can sputter out. All that he can breathe. All that he can beg before the red, swollen end of his cock bursts with spurts of cum.
Again and again; hot white ribbons of sap that you find lodged deep inside you, your cervix. And it wasn’t enough that Nanami was filling you until you were starting to draw a ring of juices ‘round his base, he had to glide a hand down your front and push down until you were overspilling.
Knots of his cum gluing to your thighs, you keen as you feel it drip out- and feel him start to jostle you as he fucks more n’ more in—
“Guess I won’t be able to hah- manhandle you when you’re pregnant, huh, darlin’?”
♡ GETO SUGURU - Fight club.
You had your arms pinned down to the bedsprings, your thighs aching with constant movement.
Geto mercilessly leaning his weight down on your shaky body, “Fuck-” Before he’s pursing his cute, rose-pink lips near your mouth and spitting. “The fuck did you- hah, say to me?”
Stubbornly, you’re opening your mouth. “I said fuck y-”
The slew of profanity is fucked out of your mouth by a thorough thrashing of his raged cockhead. Red-hot and swollen enough to make your tiniest nooks open up - it’d been like this ever since the argument.
You don’t even remember how long ago it was by now, you don’t even remember what it was about. But all you knew was that it had you on all fours, pussy weeping at Geto’s vicious pace.
He’s slapping his hand down over your throat, snickering as you swallow. “Nervous?” Lightly squeezing on your airway, your boyfriend physically pulls you back even further against his toned body. Plastering the front of his washboard abs against your spine as he whispers, “You wanna try that again, gorgeous?”
But you always did like a good fight with him. And he already knew- you could already feel the bulged end of his shaft twitch as you open your mouth, “Said f-fuck-”
And this time he isn’t just tightening his hand, choking you. This time it isn’t a warning. This time, you’re being pushed into the puffy, silken pillows in front of you until your words are muffled.
Until he has the audacity to look down at the puddle of tears n’ drool you were drenching out and cackle, “Mmm, can’t hear ya, gorgeous.” Before something else catches his attention- “In fact, I think she’s louder.”
‘She’ being your dripping wet pussy.
Practically a waterpark at this point, the insides of your thighs were so incredibly drenched with layers of your slick. Clinging onto you, his legs, his cock- they make the loudest squelches after each plunge.
And Geto takes the opportunity to slow his hips down, sloppy draaaaaagging his thick, vein-covered cock along your walls until the noises sing even louder. Grunting, “And s-sweeter, too.”
“Sweeter?” You’re huffing, “Then talk to her-”
“I think I will-”
Oh. Oh, he was so rough with your body today. Taking out the adrenaline from that argument earlier out on you, Geto’s then planting one of his feet at the top of your scalp. Hunched over you, spearheading the tip-top globe of his cock even deeper at this new angle.
You’re gasping, “S-Sugu, you’re-” Holding onto you so tight, it felt like you were going to burst from all the blood rushing to your head. “-manhandling, ngh.”
“Oh, I am?” And something in his breathy, higher tone sounds gone. Sounds almost…crazed. With widened eyes, he’s taking in the position the two of you were in, the way he was pressing his heel down even harder to make you squirm just the way he liked. “Hah- guess I am.”
He didn’t even realize he was doing it - not until you’d pointed it out. Just so naturally folding you into pliable positions.
One hand of his wraps around your thighs, pryin’ apart your swollen folds to pinch at your clit meanly. And it makes a splash of wetness drip down his wrist, “Yeah, you like that? Letting me have my- fuck, way with you a lil’?”
Without even waiting for an answer, he’s increasing his movements. Increasing the never-ending rolling of his hips, increasing the sultry pressure being put on your womb. Geto’s fucking you like he’s trying to prove a point, and it’s maddening.
“P-please-”
“‘Please’ doesn’t cut it.” His long, inky hair tickles your spine as he reaches down even further. You’re crushed like a pretzel underneath him; his foot on your head, his happy trail against your ass cheeks.
And Geto Suguru couldn’t stop himself from staring. From feeling how absolutely wet you were, soaking the entire front of his reddening pelvis in all your wadded slick. “Look at you d-drooling all over like a silly girl. Should’ve let me- ngh, manhandle you sooner.”
Clawing at the headboard- “I sh-should- oh, Suguru.” Just when his plump tip locates your g-spot perfectly, circling your cute bundle of nerves. “Suguruuu—”
“M’right here, gorgeous.” He’s rasping out underneath you- and Geto finally, finally sets you free from the restraint on top of your head.
You’re whining as he’s taking his leg off. only having the time to breathe out two heavy pants before he grips onto your arms. Firm. Tight. Geto doesn’t waste a second longer before he’s pulling you up, lifting you completely off of the mattress - still not even pulling out. Fuck, he couldn’t even imagine pulling out right now.
The top of his slimy, rovering cock heads enters you at an even more lecherous angle, this time heading straight for your womb with a thundering bash. “Riiiight here.”
♡ CHOSO KAMO - Like-like
You’re being pushed down onto your cold kitchen counter before you know it- though, you certainly do know who’s sidling up behind you.
Who’s pressing his thick, heated erection against your behind, who’s clawing onto each side of your hips as if you were a lifeline. Choso’s pushin’ aside those cotton panties of yours and groaning at the feeling of your slippery slope. “Fuck, I want you.”
You’re mewling at the way his thick, reddened tip sandwiches between your folds—up n’ down, ever-so-slightly. “Mm, I can tell, Cho.”
“F-fuck…” He’s hissing between clenched canines as you perk your hips up, meeting the sultry gyrations of his toned hips. And Choso can’t help but let himself throb at the movement, can’t help but let himself groan.
Can’t help but let himself move a hand onto your neck and pin you down against the frigid counter. His mouth on your spine, his cock sinking in. “Fuck- fuck, I want you bad, baby.”
And he’s not even hesitating. Just kissin’ the lecherous ring of your hole with his leaky orifice, Choso dribbles out a good helping of precum that helps him slip inside. Push after push, just to stuff himself in sinfully deep. “Choso—mmm, you’re being a little- ngh, rough.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhmmm-” You’re fluttering your teary eyes behind at him, sending him a smile that easily dissolves his hesitance. “You practically manhandled me there.”
To which he blinks his dark, dewy irises. “Man…handled?” Now, he wasn’t entirely familiar with your modern human vernacular, but he already knew that this particular word was making his cock twitch furiously.
Something in the tone you said it in makes him pap! his hips up in a stinging rut, meaty thighs pressed against the backs of yours once he’s pressing n’ pressing.
Manhandled.
And you’re rattling off some semi-thought definition for him that he’s only halfway listening to. For him, all his popped eardrums heard was the part of roughing you up as he wished, of moving you around and oh—
Before you know it, his ringed, right hand sits underneath your thigh and hikes your leg up onto the counter in a second. “Manhandled…like this?” Questioning, the sudden change in angle was so perfect to lodge a few more syrupy, sap-leaking inches of his cock deep inside of you.
“Yes- yes.” You’re moaning- the stretch was so much. And even worse for your sanity was the way that Choso’s then kissing the line of your spine as he fucks you.
Again and again, in short, jerky thrusts just to leave your innards clenchin’ stupidly for more of him.
His lips depart a slight gasp once another set of his fingers dip downwards to smooth over your wet pussy, pulling away with a few cloying strands of slick that coat him like honey. “Mmmm, yes- and you-” He’s plunging his fingers back in, more in disbelief than anything. “-like it? This fuckin’ much?”
You can only claw at the expanse of your kitchen counter for pure mercy, babbling nonsensically at the feeling of his rovering cockhead until Choso pulls you back to him.
Until his slick-glazed fingers grip both your squirming arms and pin them down until you can’t move. You’re keening, “Yes-” Hips letting off a spanking noise ever-so-slightly when they buck back into his. “I like it a loooot, Cho—”
Fuck.
Fuck.
It’s like something snaps.
Something breaks inside of Choso- because, before you know it, he suddenly has his v-line slapping yours. His globular tip scraping your cervix, his toned upper body hunching over yours until you were gasping at the weight of his muscles.
And his hands- oh, they were latched onto your hips and pulling you down to spear your walls on all his solid inches. So hard, so strong that your feet were nearly dangling in midair, his split-ended cock probing spots so deep that it makes your mind spin.
“Y-you like it like this, baby?” Choso stutters between his heavy thrusts, the slap of his cock rubbin’ the roof of your pussy raw. “When I…manhandle you like this?”
“Yes- fuck, yes, baby-”
Barely even able to finish your sentence before he’s pinning you down with one hand on your neck and using that leverage, too, to meet his cadence. “Then how about this-”
“Yes-”
“And this?” With both the gropin’ palm on the side of your hips, the back of your throat- Choso’s beefy biceps bulge as he’s pulling you back down. Rawly letting the globe of his cock fill up every ounce n’ crevice, again.
And again and again-
And when you’re too far gone to speak, he’s using his inhuman strength to sloppily drag you down even further. Gluing the back of your spine into his ripped front, it’s as if you’re a ragdoll. “D’you like this, baby?” His sticky pants cover the side of your head, “Tell me you like it- fuck, please-”
“I do- yes yes yes—” Your mouth is leaving a circular puddle of saliva on the counter now. And as soon as you throw your head back, it ends up laid across Choso’s collarbone.
“Mmm– I’m glad.” Just so fucking lecherous how he was folding you into the most sinful shapes underneath him. Practically strewn across the kitchen counter, he’s pounding his raged, thick shaft into you until it rattles.
Probin’, just your deepest spots being pushed around by the curve of his cock.
And before you know it- you’re not even on the counter anymore. Before you can even register it, you’re on all four lethargic limbs on the floor. Choso had manhandled you down, carnally leaning his weight over the base of your spine.
Just seeing you shakin’ and spraying glittery slick all over the tile makes his cock twitch. The girth of his plump mushroom tip squeezing out a knot of precum.
Choso feels it overspilling out of you, thumbing down the watery line of your slit as he groans. “Mmm, because I reeeeally like this.”
♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - FANTASTIC FOUR
“Cheh-” Sukuna’s mean lips - both sets of them - twitch in amusement as you attempt to ride his matching erections. Sloppy and needy. “S’that all you got, mama?”
And honestly, it wasn’t even your fault.
He was just so big. So plump n’ luscious at the tip, the drivelling spots of his orifices were reaching into the back of your pussy without even trying. It was hard enough to merely even clench let alone ride him wildly like you were, right on top of his ancient throne.
“Wh-what?” Your legs twitch as he just then swerves into a hidden spot inside you that makes you see stars. Holding onto the broad expanse of his shoulders for dear life, “S’not like you can do any hck! better…”
To that, Sukuna takes the time to pretend like he was thinking. One dark-nailed hand tapping at his chin, “Mmm, s’that a challenge, brat?”
Unsurely, you’re staring up into his sleazy grin. “M-maybe?”
“I always do tell ya not to talk outta that pretty pussy.”
What- oh fuck. Before you know it, before you can even register his words, all four of Sukuna’s beefy hands are grabbing onto your sides. Squeezin’ you together like something to play with, his clawed fingers are then moving you. Bodily.
Up n’ down, up n’ down, up n’ down.
Just spearheading you on his dual lengths, Sukuna physically jostles you to suckle on the vein-decorated shafts of his cocks. Moving you like some ragdoll, he plunges all the way from the thick, throbbing curves of his tips to the bottoms.
“Th-that’s cheating—” You’re blubbering out through your tears, your nails digging into his toned flesh, the tattoos on his shoulders.
“Hah! Cheating? Cheating?” The King looks fit to laugh, and you swear you even hear his monstrous second mouth spit out a snicker. “Oh, sooooorry, let me bow to your- hah- wishes, you puny little human.”
Insulting, and yet you can feel his bulged cockhead stream out in pre. Webbing up your soft insides, he completely disarms you with the feeling.
Enough so that you’re barely registering the way one of his hands lifts off of your body, and you still don’t slow down on your manhandled bounces. “Let this hand-” Swiftly, he’s dipping it down to your perky clit, toyin’ on the cute nub until you’re seeing stars. “-go here…and this hand.”
And then another one, moving to the left side of your ass. You just register the warm touch of his palm before his fingerpads come down on a mean spank. “Then the third-” Going to grab your tits, he smoothens over your sensitive areolas. “And then my favorite, this one…”
The fourth and final one of Sukuna’s right hands clench your throat.
Squeezing so hard.
You’ve lost your breath - and your mind. And Sukuna’s usin’ that leverage around your neck to maneuver you on top of his raging cocks, manhandling you smoothly. Pliably. He’s barely even breaking a sweat meanwhile you’re bawling from both pairs of lips. “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck– I didn’t think you’d- ngh.”
“This enough?” He’s humming, something deep n’ dark in his tone. “S’this fair enough for you, mama?‘
“Y-yes-”
“Nuh uh, I’ve gotta- ngh, see it to believe it.” Almost as if to prove his point, his thrusts only get wilder. Sticking the curved crowns of his shafts deep against your sweetest spots, you swear you can feel him enter the area of your lungs.
Pushing such pressure on your cervix, as if the feeling of his fat, bruising girths wasn’t enough- he was lifting himself off of the throne to make an even bigger mess of you. To leave two large bruises all the way at the start of your womb that mark you as his.
The King of Curses was ravenous. He was letting his two rock-hard shafts slide against one another, the winding veins between them causing you to whine. “C-close- I don’t think-”
“Ohhh, that would be a good way to- hah, prove it t’me. Great idea, my lil’ human.” Mockingly, Sukuna teases your ruined self. Craning his head close- close enough that only you could hear his single, gravelly word—“Cum.”
You do. Hard.
And he’s just so smug at the feeling of you tumbling over the edge on command, your sultry pussy throbbing after each zap of pleasure. Sukuna’s aching hot lengths pound you through your high until you’re seeing white- “O-oh my god, never felt like- ngh-” Mentally counting, he’s able to predict when exactly each peak of your orgasm was.
On that exact moment, striking the edge of your pussy with his cockheads. He was targeting your g-spot until you felt raw there, almost like it felt unnatural to have his pinkish tip mushed against the side of your walls.
And you’re babbling after each flash of your high, body now controlled by the lustful haze. With that, you barely even realize when you’re gyratin’ your hips back in greedy figure eights.
Back and forth. Back and forth. The neglected tip of your clit brushed against the open maw on Sukuna’s stomach, and the feeling of his slithering tongue makes you moan.
In fact, he realizes before you do - the way you’re moving your body sinfully to grab any carnal pleasure from his cursed mouth. Inches away from damn near riding his devilish tongue. And that makes Ryomen Sukuna gasp.
That makes his sleazy smirk drop. That makes his rosy brows raise.
Breath slightly catching, heart slightly racing- until suddenly he’s grinning wider than he has this entire night. “Oh, you naughty lil’ human.”
♡ INO TAKUMA - ManHANDLED
“Can not.”
“Can too.”
“Can not.”
“Can too.”
“Prove it.” It was a challenge. It was a promise. And it had your poor boyfriend blushing to the roots of his chestnut hair, his pretty lips wobbling at the thought of what you wanted him to do to you - you wanted him to manhandle you.
And you wanted him to prove that you could manhandle him.
With only a few sultry seconds of shyness, Ino then immediately grasps onto both your thighs, easily folding them in half underneath him. Within mere moments, you’re being pushed into a mating press, and he’s sliding his cock between the sultry lips of your folds.
Feeling your treacly pussy stretch with you, it’s like your walls were desperately tryin’ to cling onto him the further you were bent. The further you felt his reddened tip probe into you n’ add onto the stretch- “F-fuck me, pretty…”
He finds himself murmuring without even realizing it, a slow line of drool starting to formulate at the edge of his lip.
And you can’t help but giggle as you swipe at it with your thumb, making the bulbous mushroom tip inside of you twitch. “I thought you were supposed to- hah, fuck me.”
“It’s a figure of- fuck! speech.” He’s snapping without any real rage, taking it out on the puffy core of your cunt. Slamming it with a thorough few thrusts as punishment.
It’s like you were slowly ebbing him towards a fever pitch, with every squelch, with every clench. And his hips were hungry—carnally scraping towards the bottom of your pussy with his curved crown. “Shut me up then.”
“Fuck-”
Fuck.
You were ruining him.
And you were making him part his mouth open with a string of profanities, you were making him choke out something primal and husky in response. Something that sounded like an utter whine—
As you stare up at him, you muse whether he might choke you- make you shut up by squeezing that neck of yours- but, instead, what you get is Ino reaching over to your bedside table in a flash. Grabbing that freshly-laundered ski mask of his and gagging your mouth with its velvety fabric.
“M-mmpf, Taku—” You’re trying to babble through the few gaps there are. But you barely make a dent, you can barely put together a sentence before he’s surging his bulging cockhead against your cervix.
In one, straight jackhammer that leaves you reeling. His drivelling orifices leaks down your womb n’ fills you up animalistically, then he does it again. And again. And again and again and again-
“Fuh-fuuuuck…” He’s tilting his head down, staring at you through long, half-lidded lashes. Voice breathy, strokes vicious. “Suuuuch a mouthy girl. Let your ‘Taku’ take c-care of you now.”
And you’re whining, feeling the slender edge of his thumb slip between your pussylips and press on your clit like a damn button. “And, first order of business.” He doesn’t even flinch as you buck up with a plea. And where your sweet boyfriend might have usually slowed down, where he might have let you take control- right now he was pulling you in with a hand glued to your hips.
Even harder, Ino bends his toned body down with a snap. Flexibly pressing his sweaty forehead into yours, mouth spitting between your own. Rasping, “Y’know, I’ve always wanted to try this—”
Wanted to try bending you like a lawnchair - at this point you could barely even feel the bedsprings underneath your asscheeks. You’re mewling, “Sh-shit, you’re so filthy–”
“Learned it from you, sweetness.” He’s hissing, teeth bared in a snarl at the gummy clamp of your walls. You were so far gone, making it hard for him to even pull back after each thrust. “Learned everything from- oh, fuck.”
And he can’t even bear to look at you.
Not when you’re salivating so sweetly all over his mask, not when you’re squelching from between your legs after each ram.
Ino can’t help but drag up a hand to squeeze your airway, using that leverage to pluck you off of the lengthy expanse of his cock. All the way up to circle his mushroomy tip with your slit, before bodily pulling you back down till his bulky hilt lodges past your folds. “Look what you’ve- fuck! made me do.”
His voice crackles on that last note, and before either of you know it- Ino’s spurting out thick, wiry ribbons of his cum.
Reaching his high prematurely, just from the mere sensation of having you jostled by his very own strength. “I-I’m…cumming?” He’s breathlessly asking himself, letting the mazing tip of his cock swab tiny pinpricks of cum inside, he was stuffing you with so many knots of ivory sap that you can feel it leaking out. “I’m cumming- fuck! N’ it’s all your- f-fault, pretty.”
“Mhmmm–?” You can barely even manage out the teasing tone of your voice, it just felt too good to have him swirlin’ around his slimy length. Filling even your tiniest orifices with speckles of creamy white cum.
But it’s enough to get Ino raising his head, blush furious on his face- “Th-this proves nothing.”
With feral fervor, he throws your legs even higher over his shoulder- this time, using one of his toned hands to reach behind him and hold your ankles in place. Hold you in place.
To pin you into an even meaner mating press, and to tighten his chokehold on your neck. “Want me to prove it, pretty?”
♡ GOJO SATORU - Strongest.
“Well, how’d you expect the strongest to fuck?”
Gojo’s teasing, sing-song tone would have almost been infuriating- if you weren’t wrecked so stupidly on his cock, that is.
If he just wasn’t pressing into you with his hefty muscles from behind, the loooong, achin’ glides of his shaft probing into your very cervix. He sees you zoning out with your criss-crossed pupils, and decides to lean in and blow against the side of your face. “Helloooo—? How did you, sweetheart?”
“I don’t- I don’t know!” You’re crying out stupidly - it’s been hours by now. And the wet crown of his length throbs even harder at your ruined tone. How cute.
And he wasn’t even trying to be mean - that’s just how Gojo fucked. With his abs to your spine, and his pale happy trail scraping your ass cheeks, the front of his pelvis turned red with slamming impact. “What d’you mean you don’t know~? You’re being- hah, fucked by the strongest right now—”
To prove his point, drags you back down and-
Oh, it was so cute how your knees were flattening upon the king-sized mattress, hands jerking out in front of you and attempting to claw for the headboard. The Strongest doesn’t even realize that your pretty, shakin’ body was torn between running away and more, more, more. But luckily, he’s there to make the decision for you.
He’s there to hook one of his pale fingers in the fabric of his blindfold, now dangling from your neck. And with an arm reached out, he’s draaaagging you right back down to him. “Look at this- c’mere.” Other hand reaching over to press down on your stomach. “Come back down on my ngh, cock sweetheart. Look at this.”
And then you’re feeling the wetness - the streams of creamy white cum that drip-drip-drip out of you in pearly beads. It’s clinging onto your slit, forming a sheen down your thighs. “Yeah?”
With the rawest slurp Gojo’s hand snakes from your front to your smearing mess, “Didn’t even need to- ngh- manhandle you for all this.” He’s hissing, that familiar topic of interest being brought up once more. “I don’t have to.”
His inhuman strength was already enough. And it was making you slide halfway down the silken bedsheets—up n’ down, up n’ down.
Puffing out in a murky pant, “I don’t need to-” Your legs finally give way and start to slide uselessly down the bed, to which Gojo responds by curling a hand under your front and supporting your entire weight. With just one beefy arm. He’s throwing you around like you’re weightless, moving you on his cock like you’re weightless. “But, oh…”
Azure eyes half-lidded, his rosy lips parting with a line of slick.
Gojo then proceeds to- not just hold, but to entwine the ribbon of his blindfold ‘round his palm, tightening and tightening. And throughout it all, the bludgeoning tip of his shaft just kept on probing. Harder. Faster- until he’s hauling your face up to his. “-it’s so fun, my wife.”
Immediately, he’s thrusting up until the fatness of his girth wedges against your cervix with a whack.
Drenched happy trail irritating your skin, throbbing veins massaging your innards in ways only The Strongest ever could. Until he was red and raw.
“Oh god, ngh- Satoru I won’t-”
“C’mere, sweetheart.” And though he’s begging you to come here, he’s the one actually motioning you like a ragdoll.
He’s the one who feels you squirming, Six Eyes working overtime to tell him that you were edging closer n’ closer to your high. One of his rude feet then plants straight down on the crown of your head, plastering you down into the bedsprings. Pressurizing you.
Gojo feels it snap inside you - like a band - and your high’s taking over in an instant. Flooding your veins with bubbling euphoria, making your vision flash behind your lids. It wasn’t just enough to have you fucked through your orgasm, he needed to reel you back- he needed to let his cursed energy go into overdrive and zap through your body, draaaaaagging out your bliss until it felt impossible.
Toes curled, the ridges of his shaft slot into your sweetest spots.
And your husband’s managing to get through one–two–three vulgar strikes to the bashed spot of your pussy, before he’s throwing his head back with a whine. “Gonna- gonna cum.”
You’ve barely just registered those words inside your sticky mind before it hits you like a tidal wave- sloshing deep inside of you, coating your walls like a gluey lacquer. Gojo thinks he’s cumming harder than he has in his entire life- “F-fuck, it’s so much, Toru.” Webbing up your innards with the lines of his cum.
Again and again, you feel tendrils of his cursed energy take over each of your limbs until they’re shakin’ cutely. Somehow - you don’t even know what his powers consisted of anymore - they’re still manhandling you.
Still holding you back until you were pressed against the line of his happy trail, with his greedy cock pushing more of his wads of cum inside.
“That was so- s-so good.” He’s breathing out, hollow and high-pitched. If you didn’t know any better, then you’d have said that he sounded crazed right about now.
He sounded out hoarse groans from the back of his throat, feeling his rovering cock plummet against your womb. You were throbbing just so well, squeezing around him like you didn’t want him to leave and…
And he just couldn’t.
The ladder-like ridges of his abs melt against your spine, letting go of the blindfold to then use his very own hands to lift you up into him. Whispering, “But I don’t feel like it was a- a career best…y’know, for the…” And he damn near giggles, “-The Strongest.”
Oh fuck.
♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - “Missed you.”
And your dark-haired husband chuckles at your little confession, barely done tugging off his silken work tie. “Missed me, angel?”
You can only nod, to which he’s juuuust lazily tuggin’ aside your pyjama short- pantiless, underneath. Already glistening wet with so much slick that he’s smearing with one thumb, then sucking off the glaze on top.
“Why, I was only gone for work.” He’s groaning as he slips n’ slides his bulging cockhead in-between. He was ruby red and puckered just past your tight hole, wads of slick dribble down the veins on his length and he sighs. “And- and fuuuuuck, how I missed you.”
“Ngh, missed you, too, Hiromi-”
Higuruma was so far gone already. Itching to take over. You could feel his very fingertips trembling, you could feel the way that his oversensitive tip was flinching at even the slightest clench.
Teasingly, you dare to squirm your hips further backwards- where he was plastering his rock-hard erection against your folds. And you’re barely getting down an inch, barely even a centimeter before he’s clawing onto both sides of your hips and pinning you down.
“Now now,” Suddenly, your knees are giving out. Suddenly, he’s pressing his full weight onto you just so that your lower half is plastered against the bedsheets, sticking to them.
With his toned v-line gyrating up and down, “Hope you don’t mind, sugar-” With a guttural noise at the back of his throat, he’s reeling his back down just a few inches. Pursing those stern lips of his and spitting- a great, glittering glob of spit that accurately targets your pussy. “-but m’not gonna be hah- nice right now.”
Higuruma was definitely not going to be nice.
He wasn’t even going to try- before you know it, your husband grabs you by the back of the neck and uses it as an anchor to strike the back of your cunt with his cock. “Oh, p-please!” Babbling away once the plump edge of his cock swerves ‘round, “You can- hck! manhandle me if you’d like, baby.”
“O-oh.” Something at the back of his throat cracks, and you look right over your shoulder to realize that he was grinning. He was seething. “Perfect.”
And for just then, Higuruma doesn’t make a move. Higuruma doesn’t do anything but reach a hand up for the knot of his dark tie, almost like he was going to take it off, like he was going to choke you with it- but in a split-second, he has the fabric looped around your wrists and capturing you.
Holding you tight, he ties that lil’ constraint in a second.
You’re gasping, “Wh-what are you-”
“Just you watch.” Cutting you off- with both his baritone, and the thorough pummeling of his cockhead. He swipes just down your cunt, pinching your cute clit until you can’t help but fasten your legs and wish to run—
Only to not move a single millimeter. Not with him holding onto you by the tie on your wrists, veins bulging on his massive hands as he holds you to his ravenous cock. “Ohhh, just you watch- I need to f-fuck this stress outta me.”
“Y-yes, Hiromi.” You can’t help but answer, not when he was using that lawyer voice on you.
Stern, smoky. Practically making your cunt flutter without even trying—it was just so cute how affected you were so easily. How you were falling right into his hands.
Higuruma slaps the forefront of your treacly pussy with his fingertips, watching as you squirm with nothing else to do. “Can’t run, can ya?” Again. Harder, this time. “Can’t do anything but- hah- take- it-”
“Please- please please please, Hiromi–”
If this was any other time, then you’d have been embarrassed by the sheer trill tone of your voice. The way it was breaking upon each impact with the fat, bludgeoning end of his shaft- and you’re letting him manhandle you?
Oh, he wasn’t going to let you down.
He was going to push a meaty knee against your inner thighs, leaving you unsteadily tumbling into the mattress. Into him. He was going to tug on the fabric around your wrists until it left you twitching at the slamming cadence, skin rubbing raw.
Higuruma angles you slightly to the side, perfectly enough so that the flared ridge of his slit tap-tap-taps against your g-spot. Plump n’ probing. “Yeah- yeahhhh, I really won’t be n-nice on this pretty pussy, angel. My apologies.”
“It- it’s-” He doesn’t even wait for your response before just then bashing a slippery glide from the splotchy orifice of your nerves. Then allllll the way down to bump against your cervix, your womb.
Once. Twice. Thrice.
Again and again, he’s pounding you into the springy mattress like he hated you. He’s dragging the ridged lines of his veins, and each thrust had you pulled in back to meet the next one. Sticky, pre-glazed tip gluing to the end of your pussy, barely even breaking apart after the recoils of each jackhammer.
Once. Twice. Thrice.
“Mhmmm—-” Higuruma drawls out from behind you, and there’s a slight rustling of fabric as he slides off the rest of his suit. “Better prepare, sugar.” And before you know it, your sight’s been engulfed by darkness - by his neat laundered handkerchief.
“Wh-why- oh, fuck.”
“It’s going to be a loooong night.”
♡ ZENIN NAOYA - Deserved!
“B-baby…can you manhandle me?” You’re blinking your tear-glittered lashes, staring up into Naoya’s smirking face. He was hovering above you, snobby nose upturned into the air in the way it usually did, even more so now that you’d asked him to put his full masculine strength on full display.
He sniffs, gleaming teeth bared down at you, the veneers weren’t doing him much justice. Neither was the e-boy hair, but you decide to keep it to yourself. “Do it yourself, woman. You think I live to serve?”
And so you do it. You do manhandle him - you punch him so hard that he dies.
Congratulations.
A/N. Did y’all like the surprise heheheh? Also funny story but in the middle of writing this I went to go play football, ended up in the hospital with an injury, and still came back to finish it- the power of gooning compels me.
Synopsis. Five times the elders of the Sukuna household are sure their fearsome clan leader is impotent, and the one times he makes them realize - Ryomen Sukuna is feraI. For you.
Pairing. Ryomen Sukuna x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, clan leader!Sukuna, 5 + 1 things, arranged marriages, Itadori family shenanigans, wingmanning, the elders, helping Sukuna get laid, Sukuna is down BAD, true form, second mouth, oraI (fem rec.), fíngering, spítting, cervíx kíssing, pússydrúnk Sukuna, dp, DÚMBlFlCATION, tummy buIges, he’s big, rough s, riding, manhandIing, p talking, bréeding, creampíes, cúmplay, getting together, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 11.8k
A/N. Missed their chaos omg-
“Buckle up, boys. This might be the most important event of our lives.” Itadori Jin has never taken his role as older brother so seriously.
Locked in a team huddle with his father, the elders, and a very reluctant, recently-married Ryomen Sukuna. “Dad- you’re on the romantic music. Council- you’re on the rose petals. I’ll be outside on the phone with the fire department, the exorcist, the-”
“It’s my wedding night?”
“Exactly.”
With a final clap of determination, the group shoves their clan leader towards the bed chambers. Ignoring his grumbles of- “But the ladies love me.”
“Ryo, you’ve been single your entire life.”
“…” Okay, perhaps Jin was right. It’d been a traditional arranged wedding, yours being the only proposal that the infamously cold Sukuna had even looked at, let alone agreed to.
But he clasps the polished doorknob, “I’ll give ya an heir.” Opening. “Just you watch, I’ll give ya four heirs, maybe five, maybe six—oh.”
Until he saw his pretty wife.
Even more gorgeous than you’d been during those brief formal interviews, between clans and council members who nudged each other at the fact that he had finally chosen a bride.
You’d swapped out your wedding robes for an actual robe that was much…riskier. Stuck to your skin, glistening in the faint candlelight. You were semi-sprawled comfortably across the bed, having patiently waited for their ‘team meeting’ to have finished.
And Sukuna would’ve yelled at any of them for gaping stupidly from the doorway, he should have - if he wasn’t gaping stupidly himself, that is. Lips parted, crimson eyes bulging.
This was the clan leader rumored by some to be a monster, and rumored by others to fight like a monster: now fully frozen at the sight of you.
It takes about seven different council members and Itadori Wasuke poking Sukuna’s muscular back with his wooden cane to make him move. “Ryo-” Jin hisses in slight concern, fingers starting to itch towards his phone, namely in the sequence of the emergency number he’d memorized for tonight. “Ryo move- you- oaf-”
Respect for the head of the household be damned, they were deadset on bullying him inside the romantically-decorated room. Finally making him move one foot. Two.
As soon as he staggers through the entrance, the towering mahogany doors then slam shut behind him. Somewhat snapping Sukuna out of his little reverie - somewhat. He shakes his head free of that vision of you, gaze dropping to the floor- anywhere but where you were sitting, so beautiful and unbothered.
An heir.
Right, an heir. What was that nonsense about six heirs? Right now, he felt he’d be lucky to get to not faint.
“I uh-” You lean closer with a smile when he starts to sputter out, and the act itself nearly makes him take a step back. Heart rushing to the surface of his tattooed skin, “Ah, I mean-”
He gulps. And almost as if they were sensing the tension inside the bedroom, the group outside abruptly starts up the distant saxophone of a George Michael. It filters through the slight gaps of the doorway and into the thick silence inside.
You were looking at him with a raised brow, clearly waiting for him to speak first with his interesting reaction.
Which is exactly what Ryomen Sukuna does - exactly why he clears his throat gravely. All seven feet of his figure straightening, toned chest puffing out. Jin had told him to smile before he smoldered, and right now Sukuna does neither. Only asking in grim seriousness-
“So are you uh…open-minded?”
“What?”
“What?”
BANG!
He’d removed himself from the honeymoon suite before you could even blink.
And as you sat up on the bed in genuine confusion, the clan leader outside - your husband - was crouched against the now-closed bedroom doors. Knees to his pecs, all four palms coming up to cover his face- though, they do nothing to hide the scorching red flushed at the tips of his ears.
The elders can only gawk; they’d known Sukuna since birth, and never had he acted in this manner. Never had he been so flustered, blushed so bright that it looked like he was steaming from his very skin. Flinching at the touch of his brother, he groans once the older one starts punting him with questions.
Jin squawks, “Is your wife okay- are you okay?”
“Yes- no.”
“Do I need to call the fire department?”
“No.”
“The exorcist-”
“No no no- fuck! She was just so…” Sukuna finally manages to string together more than one coherent syllable, running his hefty fingers down his features, like he wanted to scrub the embarrassment off of him. And the tail end of his response rings out as nothing but a whisper. So small, so shy. “…beautiful.”
He looks up at the circle surrounding him like he was pleading, “So, so beautiful.” Baritone dropping into an even lower volume, he scratches the back of his head like a child recounting a crush. “And she- she smiled at me, heh. What’d I do to end up with a wife like her?”
The elders and family members look at each other.
Silence.
At least, as much silence as you could get in the Itadori Estate. Because, before long, Wasuke clutches his aged heart and gasps, “No!” Only once every pair of eyes has turned to look at him- “My son has no game.”
The emergency services were called that night.
Though, it’s more for a health check on his father’s heart than for anything gone wrong with your honeymoon. And Jin thinks that’s pointedly to do with the fact that you don’t have a wedding night - at least, not in the sense of the word.
After he’d offered Sukuna a general health check-up too (he’d vehemently denied) and a heart check-up in particular (he’d considered) you’d finally ended up walking out of the bedroom. Barely getting through one word of their overlapping explanations before you’d held up a hand.
“It…actually might be better if I don’t know.” You’d sagely remarked, and quite smartly. Before turning to your new husband, who’d all but cowered at your gaze, “But you need to get some sleep, mister. Don’t think I don’t know about how cranky you get otherwise.”
“Hell yeah, ma’am. So true, ma’am.”
And Sukuna had sauntered back into the marital suite of his own accord, for a night of sleep. Nothing but sleep - though, Jin thinks he caught Sukuna fist pumping in celebration when you insisted he didn’t have to sleep on the couch.
There seemed to be no hope for an heir that night. Or, ever, at this rate.
And the trusty council of elders that were present would later retell the story in the morning after, with varying degrees of humor - some cackling about the fearsome head’s one weakness, others grieving the lack of heirs that the Itadori clan shall now have.
But most had been left with quite a different impression. They eyed each other during breakfast, when you’d come down with no marks, no signs of lost sleep. Surely, there was no other explanation - Ryomen Sukuna was impotent.
He might not be the sweetest clan leader, or the most empathetic, or clearly the most savvy with the ladies, but he was their leader nonetheless.
And they had to do everything in their power to help.
.
.
.
“-and then the ol’ man starts playing fuckin- I mean, freaking ‘Careless Whisper’ and then I make a fool of myself-”
“Mhm.”
“-but she was oh-so-sweet about it. Which makes no sense, how can one be beautiful and sweet? I mean, look at me- I’m a right bastard-”
“Mhm.”
“-not that I’m complaining. And then when we shared the bed, heh, she told me ‘goodnight.’ Can you believe that? Goodnight? Obviously, she’s into me.”
“Mhm.” Five-year-old Itadori Yuji looks up from where he’d been playing with blocks on the archery dojo, “Uncle Kuna, can we go play hide-and-seek now?”
But the older man lets go the taut, tough string of his bow- hitting the bullseye of his target dead-on. “You’re right! She’s totally into me- heh, ten points for Sukuna.” It was already nearing sundown, and he’d been cooped up in the Estate’s dojo for hours after the fiasco that was his wedding night a few days ago.
Nothing else had occurred between the two of you since. For which he was equally as grateful as he was disappointed - obviously you didn’t want to spook him. And obviously he wanted you.
But it wasn’t his fault he’d been trained in the arts of commandeering rather than communication.
Which is how he found himself with that lil’ nephew of his as a therapist, shooting away arrows with the specialized bow designed for Sukuna’s four beefy arms, and fourfold strength. As if that would help ease the tension.
The clan leader opens his mouth again and it’s enough to make Itadori throw himself back onto the polished wooden floor. Starting off- “And did I tell you that when she told me ‘goodnight’ it was in a tone of like-”
“Ahem.”
If there was anything that could make big, bad Sukuna quieten down, then it certainly wasn’t his advisors, or his older brother, or anything else but you.
And all you had to do was clear your throat once to signal your intrusion, having wandered your way through the massively sprawling Estate. You’d somehow led yourself straight to him.
You bow politely, “I hope I’m not disrupting.”
“C-course not.” To your surprise, your husband speaks first. “We were just-”
“Talking about you-” You giggle as Itadori instantly runs to cling onto your arms. Excitedly squealing at a mile a minute, “Uncle Kuna says that- that he has a huuuuge crush on you and-”
“No!” Sukuna interjects in panic- that traitor.
“And- and he liked the way you say ‘goodnight’ and-”
“Itadori Yuji, I will pay you to stop talking.”
You’re watching the situation like a tennis match, and Yuji does stop - for about three seconds, that is. Until his voice drops into a conspiratorially low whisper, hands cupping his mouth- “Did you know he also called an exorcist-”
“What the f- I did not?” Husky bass damn near cracking, he rips the little boy away from you. “Scram, gremlin.”
Pushing at his back to make the toddler waddle away and give the two of you some space, Sukuna hastens to straighten up and puff his chest out. Making sure that the loose fabrics of his training yukata would slip aside to flash you with a sliver of his toned pecs, glistened with a thin layer of sweat.
And when - only when - he catches your eyes dipping downwards, he clears his throat—smooth, Ryomen Sukuna. You’ve made people disappear, you can do smooth- “H-hi.”
His vocals crack.
Nearly passing out from the shame - but you don’t seem to mind. “Hi to you, too. I see you’re working hard?”
“Yeah- I mean no.” As you raise a brow, “Who needs ta work hard when you’re just good?”
“Is that so?” It’s a blatant brag, but one that didn’t go unsubstantiated. Your eyes drift to the side to where targets had been lined along the distant wall, each of them punctured right through the middle with a sharp arrow. “Oh, that’s impressive. I don’t think I could ever-”
“Would ya like to try?”
You’re nearly as shocked as Sukuna at the words that escape his mouth, before he can mull and chew over them first. But that swiftly melts into a look of eagerness once you nod- being handed his hefty bow.
“It’s heavier than normal.” Before you know it, he’s sidled up behind you. Leaned down so close that his warm breath blankets your neck- pointed chin hitting somewhere by your temple, tense core pushed up against you.
So close. Easily, two of Sukuna’s hands help you hold the weight of his massive bow, and another two fall down to your waist to guide you. “Easy there, mama.”
“Th-thank you-” You’re find yourself stammering from the pure intimacy. And it was just so unfair how pliable he found you - heart racing, mind spinning at the thought - angling you bodily to face the targets. “So I just pull and release, then?”
“Mhm. You pull reeeal hard.” Deep, throaty. You’re noticing just how warm his hands were when they’re on yours, helping you pull, pull, pull back on the feathery edge. “Breathe in reeeeal slow.” You do, and you feel him match yours. “Position it.”
His honed strength helps you find the target, and his hands- oh, but his hands were nearly making you lose sight of the bullseye. “Aaand-” Two of his rough palms draaaagging down your sides for stability for him to tower over you, and then two more gently rubbing over your hands for reassurance as you- “-shoot.”
Schwing–!
It lands dead-center in the bullseye.
He grins, “Hell yeah.”
“Yes!” You’re hissing, bow still in your arms as you leap into Sukuna’s. It was a brief embrace, just the quickest few seconds - but your husband nearly melts.
With your face tucked into the crook of his neck- his eyes nearly bulge out of his sockets, four massive palms hovering in the air like he didn’t know what to do with himself. In a flash, you’re reaching ‘round your body to let him rest them on your back, and he gasps, “O-oh-”
“Oh?” With a slight chuckle, you pull back, and he nearly whines in agony. But this was the Ryomen Sukuna, of course he can hold it back…to merely a slight grunt of pain. “Thank you for teaching me.”
“Thank you for being my wife-”
“Pardon?”
“Nevermind- I uh-” All four palms come up to cover his face in utter horror- it had been going so well if it wasn’t for the clan leader’s big mouth. Everyday was seemingly an unfortunate reminder that he was related to the blabbermouths that were Jin, Yuji, and…
Speaking of, where was Yuji?
Little did he know that a certain pink-haired toddler was holding a certain group of elders hostage behind the screens that led to the dojo’s entrance. Their bodies, formerly leaned over the doorway to spy on the couple, were now crouched on the floor.
Disappointed- how could their revered clan leader not take the bait? Impotency strikes again.
But, right now, the masterminds were slightly more occupied with something else. Fingers to mouths, voices in whispers- begging the little boy standing in front of them to remain quiet.
But Yuji only smiles, standing proudly in front of them. He whispers, “Do you wanna play hide and seek?”
The council of the greatest minds in the household look at each other, “Uh…no?” Unsure of what else to say to the boy.
Before their ears are pierced by the most noisy child-like shriek of Sukuna’s name—“Uncle Kunaaaaa—it’s the exorcists!”
An arrow shoots their way. And by the way it strikes precisely into the wooden panels between the elders’ heads, precisely where it didn’t harm anything but their motivations, their egos, and perhaps slightly their heart conditions - they’re guessing it was their loving clan leader that shot it.
.
.
.
Sukuna always did hate stuffy clan meetings.
The ones where documents were piled into columns taller than himself, council men and women spoke over each other to try and earn his attention, and he had to act for hours like he actually tolerated the guest invited that day. All in the name of ah- politics, or whatever.
And today was much the same - except for one shocking, sudden surprise. You.
You, seated directly opposite him on the large round table now that you were officially part of the clan. You, perfectly positioned for him to take in every pretty inch of you. You, who he’d give anything just to have beside him and chatting his ear off, or helping with his papers.
And, honestly, with a view like that he wouldn’t even complain about being forced to discuss- what was it again-
“The socioeconomic impacts of clan bonding activities and how they-” Choso - who’d recently started attending for education on the clan - drones in such tired monotone, shrugging at their two-toned guest, Zenin Naoya, without looking up from where he was doodling on some contract. “-could really benefit from those.”
“Tch- don’t talk like I didn’t know that, brat.” Sukuna narrows his eyes down at his eldest nephew.
Only to get a withering eyebrow raise in return, “Well, did you?”
“Yes…” No-
And almost as if he could read the pure lie on his uncle’s face, the middle-schooler has the audacity to put his pencil down and grin. More interested in the happenings of the meeting than he had been in four hours now. “Oh really? Well then, dear uncle of mine, would you care to explain to your nephew who comes up with these bonding activities?”
“The fuck do I look like? Stupid? It’s…Jin.” It was a guess, no one else would do something like that. He turns his face away from Choso and towards you. Politely laughing at something that the person next to you had said-
“And why is it important?”
He grumbles, this damn kid. Absent-mindedly- because oh, how was he expected to focus when your lips move to talk so prettily. As if in slow motion, like in those sappy movies Jin loved. “Uh, socio-something or the other-”
“And what do we hope to get out of today?”
“Erm-” Furrowing his brows, laser-focused on wracking his brain when- you turn his way. All you have to do is look at him for Sukuna to blurt- “Six kids, a summer house, and pets of her choice.”
In stunned silence, Choso only gravely draws a tally count.
You: 3
Sukuna: -478
“Oi- I’m at least in the double digits-”
“I think you have bigger things to worry about.” He muters, jabbing a pencil in your direction. “Your wife’s about to get stolen.”
And oh.
Ryomen Sukuna didn’t take kindly to snapping his head over and recognizing that slight glint in Naoya’s eyes; the way his mouth curled up meanly, body leaning just a tad closer to yours whenever you pulled back. Not kindly at all.
Worst of all, he’d just been hit with the realization that it was that rat bastard who’d been making you laugh while he’d been stuck with duties.
Simply on opposite ends of the room, and yet, it feels like an eternity until the hulking clan leader rises from his seat. Feet pounding their way over to where you were, your eyes raise instantly-
“Oh, there you are.” You start to smile - only for it to falter, coldly, at the shadowed expression on Sukuna’s face. He looked like he’d just seen a raging ghost, and his expression was downturned as such.
You couldn’t pinpoint whether it had been the stress or the fact that the future heir to the Zenin clan couldn’t take a hint. But you’re trying to soothe him, “You looked quite busy-”
“I was, ah-” He was always weak to anything you said, “-bonding…activities…socioeconomics.”
Sarcastically, “How riveting.”
“No need to worry, I kept her company, though.” An annoying, grating voice bursts through your bubble. And before you can do anything to stop him, Naoya has his arm thrown ‘round the back of your seat. Around the room, one by one, the elders were starting to turn in their own chairs. Discussions dropping to whisper- “And my father always does commend my networking skills, clan leader Sukuna.”
And you think Sukuna might burst. You think he might just rip into him-
But, no. Instead, he breaks out into a smile, “Ah, young master Zenin, huh? Didn’t notice ya there.” A smile that was just slightly jarring, slightly…dangerous. “I see you have met my wife. Quite charming, isn’t she?”
“Yes yes, quite beautiful.” Naoya waves off with a chuckle, elbowing the taller man where he could reach. Huffing, “Though, I must say, it’s quite smart to let the wife inside a clan meeting. Gives you something to look at, at least.”
You seethe, brows furrowing, “Pardon-” But your husband already has a hand signalling you to seat yourself back down comfortably. A commotion was starting to stir by now, and if anyone was going to make a mess of clan politics and reap the consequences, it would be him.
He could and would take the fall for you.
“Young master Naoya.” He declares in a booming voice, “The Itadori clan has decided that we would so ah- love to indulge you in a practical example of our very own bonding activities.”
As you tilt your head in slight confusion - this certainly wasn’t part of the meeting agenda, and the council seemed to notice it, too, Naoya hums. “Oh?”
“Right now. You’re welcome.”
“What? Now? But-”
As the lanky man scrambles in his seat, Sukuna grasps the very back and topples Naoya right out of it. “No no, let me.” And all it takes is one hand to lift their guest straight into midair and march him out of the room.
The door slams shut behind the duo.
And you didn’t need to hear the yelps, or the punches, or the begs for mercy to know exactly what your husband had in mind as a ‘bonding activity.’
It seemed the member of the Zenin clan would be leaving here bruised for his words, and it seemed that the elders were strangely…excited at the notion? Buzzing impatiently, tittering to each other.
It only increases twofold as Sukuna re-enters the meeting hall - knuckles suspiciously bruised, and notably without a pompous heir behind him - and you find yourself fighting back a smile. Muttering some half-hearted lecture about treating guests well, which he seems to lap every word of, you end it off by reaching upwards and kissing the side of Sukuna’s cheek.
Fleeting and innocent.
But the elders gasp-
“Oh my god- oh my god, it’s happening—”
“My money’s on a girl child being the firstborn-”
“-maybe he’s only half-impotent-”
Keen eardrums catching the whispers and congratulations, you only have the time to catch the tips of his cheekbones smearing bright red - before the clan leader stumbles back out of the meeting room.
“Oh, I think I jinxed it-”
Choso, meanwhile, crinkles his nose and reaches for his eraser and pencil once more.
Sukuna: -477
“Gnarly.”
.
.
.
“Uncle Kuna—-!” It was inevitable that every single person inside of Yuji’s cute lil’ kindergarten would end up knowing when his father wouldn’t be able to pick him up, and his uncle would arrive instead.
For one, it was all he would talk about the day beforehand. And two, they’d all hear his shrill squeal- except, most students and teachers used to this little ritual were probably shocked at the scream that followed after. “Mama—!”
And you were just as caught off-guard.
Somewhere, in the distant bushes at the very end of the kindergarten playground, a few elders and Itadori Jin fistbump one another. All those lessons, not gone to waste!
“Ah- Yuji?” You’re fighting the way your voice wobbles in surprise, and it felt like a tiny cannonball had been shot at you with the way he runs straight to you. “What did you say, baby?”
Somewhat confused, two large eyes peak up at you. And his voice is tiny, “Mama?”
Ruffling the curly pink locks of Yuji’s hair, you just-so-happen to glance at the boy’s uncle. Your husband. Who was currently steaming from his ears and flushed bright crimson, veins bulging at his forehead, mouth opening and closing stupidly. “I- you- who-”
He was speechless.
Barely even breathing- honestly, you’re hit with the slight urge to reach forwards and feel for Sukuna’s pulse before a calm voice breaks through. “Ah! I see Yuji’s favorite uncle is here today.” A soft, bowl-cut man claps his hands as he walks up. Your eyes drop down to his nametag and read ‘Haibara.’ “And you must be-”
“My wife-” Sukuna spits out, before another word can leave Haibara’s mouth. “My wife, Jin could never pull anyone like-”
“Excuse my husband.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
With yourself properly introduced - this time with names - you find yourself laughing along to one of Haibara’s anecdotes of Yuji, something to do with a dare and attempting to eat a terribly finger-shaped stick. He smiles breezily at you and hums, “He’s a good kid, and seems to be very fond of you. You should come visit more often.”
“Well, I hope to.” Grinning right back, you squeeze Yuji’s squirming body as Sukuna takes off his tiny back-pack. And you can’t help but think that it all felt so…domestic.
Evidently, the cozy atmosphere had been obvious. Haibara ponders out loud, “Forgive me for asking, but do the two of you plan on having children soon? You seem like you’d be wonderful parents.”
Oh, you look at Sukuna. And Sukuna doesn’t meet your eyes, though, with his face turned straight ahead- what you could see was the way the tips of his ears were slowly starting to redden.
It seems like ages, it seems like he was waiting for your answer just as Haibara innocently was. And your mouth opens-
“Mister Haibawa, Yuji’s uncle can’t be a parent, he’s already an exorcist.” What the f—the trio of adults snapped their heads down to see that a black-haired boy - another Zenin, confound it - had just tugged on his teacher’s sweater. Butting into the conversation- Sukuna thinks he could recall this boy’s name, something Gummy? Megumi?
“Oh?” Then it wasn’t an orange-haired girl on his other side, “My mommy says he’s unemployed.”
“That, too.”
Somewhere, in the distant bushes at the very end of the kindergarten playground, a few elders and Itadori Jin facepalm. All those lessons, gone to waste!
“Well I don’t think he can be a parent because he looks stupid.” This time, one burly boy with a buzzcut enters the scene. And he was sparing no punches, both metaphorically and literally - he knocks out a good few backhands against Sukuna’s core.
“That, too.”
“He doesn’t look stupid, Todo.” His nephew whines at him- that’s his boy!
Sukuna could almost shed a tear, oh, how proud he was. So proud, in fact, that he’s hoisting the babbling boy over his shoulders without a second thought.
Maybe Jin hadn’t completely failed as a father, after all. Maybe the boy wasn’t a hopeless case and had actually come to appreciate the strong, kind parental figure that was his uncle- “He just looks sorta stupid when he thinks he’ll embarrass himself in front of his wife. Because he does that a lot. That’s all.”
“Like the time with the exorcist.” Megumi nods, sagely.
“Like the time with the exorcist.” Yuji agrees, smacking the top of Sukuna’s head.
“There- there was no time with the exorcist.” The clan leader tries to clarify to an extremely confused Haibara.
And the girl - Nobara, according to the nametag on her glittery back-pack - points up at him, accusing. “I like his hair. He also can’t be a parent because he wears wigs.”
Sukuna growls, “You’re just jealous, bob-cut-”
You furrow your brows, “Do you wear wigs?”
“No.”
Yuji giggles, “Will you wear wigs?”
“No-”
“When will you wear wigs?”
“Never!” Honestly, children these days. He damn near pounces on Haibara, who’d asked that last question.
Megumi - honestly what was this kid’s problem - seems to pipe up for the sake of piping up, “And he steals candy from babies.”
“That was one time-”
“Hey hey-” Without warning, Todo was tugging on Sukuna’s trousers to gain his attention. Snickering as the older man looks down with the most weary face in existence, “You wanna learn how to actually impress fine shyt?”
“What is…fine sh-”
“That’s enough for today. I think.” Their teacher claps his hands, “And Todo Aoi what have I told you about using certain words? Don’t think I won’t have a talk with your guardian again, young man.” Flustered, he throws an apologetic look your way before corralling his tiny students inside. “Now- inside!”
You can finally breathe a sigh of relief - finally, finally.
Though, you don’t know what bewilders you more - the fact that they listen, or the fact that Todo was the only one that didn’t. And it was all because of the fact that he had Ryomen Sukuna kneeled down to match his height, mouth snarling, but head nodding intently to whatever Todo was whispering in his ear. You look at Haibara, and he shrugs just as helplessly.
“Umm…mister Haibara?” Another one. The pink-haired man’s soul damn near leaves his body as another teeny, toddling monster starts pulling on the teacher’s sweater.
Likely expecting an encore of the chaos just prior, his smile stretches thin. “Yes, Toge?” And you, too, start praying that it wasn’t any more love advice, or choice words about Sukuna’s character.
Pale hair cut into severe bangs, the boy mumbles in a small voice, “There’s some old men in the bushes.”
Ryomen Sukuna has never run up to a bush to kick it so fast.
And, later, with Jin left explaining to the teachers and the elders still walking off their bruises, he found himself walking down a softly sunlit road with you. Yuji now fast asleep on his shoulders, and you by his side.
It was a perfect day. Made only more perfect by the gentle tugging of your husband’s fingers towards yours, in midair. In all his years, it’s perhaps the scariest thing he’s done. They hesitate, and then they reach - the slow curves of his digits gliding down your wrist, before interlocking with yours. Warm. Firm. And yet, softer than his palms have ever felt.
He thinks he catches you smiling, and Sukuna thinks Todo’s advice might not have been so bad after all.
And from a nearby bush, Itadori Jin pumps his fist in success. Impotency or not, not a complete waste, then.
.
.
.
One night a week later, the elders decide, push should come to shove.
Literally; cold towels were thrust into your hands before you’d been shoved through the damp wooden gates of the Itadori household’s bathroom. It was the largest one, special in the way a large portion of the room was occupied by a steaming hot spring.
And from your position at the very edge of the humid chamber, you could see the toned shoulders of Ryomen Sukuna. Back turned to the door, just the upper half of his body was peaking out of the water. Glistened with dampness, deltoids flexed as he leans his elbows back against the floor.
You’re semi-glancing behind you at the members of the council that had all but thrown you inside- something about ‘marital bonding.’ Which was really just a way for them to take care of their head’s little ah…rumored problem.
To them, it was perfect - your gorgeous wife comes up to you in a hot spring and…helps. What more could he want? After all, there’s nothing wrong with impotency - there was just something wrong with their clan leader.
You’re game either way.
And you gently knock against the wall to denote your entrance, before walking up to where Sukuna was gawking from now. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
“Helping.” You reply simply, wringing the towels before folding them over his heated forehead. “Do you wish for me to leave-”
“N-no!”
It comes out faster than he’d have liked, more hitched than he would have liked. Honestly, the sentence barely even leaves your lips before Sukuna sits up straighter. Letting sploshes of scalding water drip down his abs, he leans further back against your touch. “I mean- stay.”
“Mhm, I heard you had a long day.”
“The worst, mama.” And part of his response is half-grunted with the way you’ve now situated yourself properly behind him. With your lap now a bed for his damp head, fingers weaving through those coral pink locks. “Had to refurbish the dojo, then take care of the problem with that damn Zenin brat…then donate to Yuji’s…kindergarten, then…promote a few elders… and one I had to…” Heavier and heavier, he was sinking into you with each nimble movement of your fingertips. “-fuck.”
“You fucked an elder before you fucked me?” You raise a brow in humor.
“Huh- no!” He’s growling, steam curling from the water. And as you’d briefly halted your ministrations to tease him, he guides your hands back to move. “I would never…eugh. Shit, can’t even imagine doing somethin’ like that with anyone but you.”
Suddenly, it’s silent. Except for the slow curdle of the water, and the soft grunts that Sukuna was oh-so-desperately trying to bite back.
Fuck, he was so handsome.
Such naturally chiselled muscles, and dark circular tattoos on just about every joint he had.
You massage his burning temples, slipping down into the longish length of his hair. “Oh, is that so? And do you imagine it often with me, clan leader Sukuna?”
“Stop being such a fuckin’ tease.” Hissing, Sukuna’s prominent Adam’s apple bobs as he practically begs. And he looked so pretty when he was begging; brows upturned, mouth unintentionally pouty. “How can I help myself?”
“And am I doing anything to stop that?”
“Yes-” Forgoing the massage, Sukuna now stops your right hand. Holding it tightly as he turns his head and presses a kiss to the tender inside of your wrist, hot with water and his blush. “Just existing is enough.”
“Sukuna…”
Your mouth parts, and it’s like a string being drawn- your lips are on his. It’s messy, with the way he’d angled himself from upside down, tilted up just to sliiide the plushness of his mouth across yours. It’s light, like he was holding himself back.
And you knew what he was capable of.
Which was likely what made you reach for the back of his head, pulling him in to deepen the kiss. Gasping, your mouth just barely parts for his hungry maw to clasp ‘round your sugary tongue. Sucking—before-
Before a button clicks, and suddenly the bathroom walls are trembling with lyrics singing ‘I just had sex—’
You could’ve caught whiplash with how fast you’re both staring at the entrance: meeting with the sight of the several elders, Wasuke, and a ridiculously large boombox. Piled onto an embarrassing heap on the floor, they’d seemingly fallen over- likely from their spying over one corner of the door.
‘And it felt so good—’
“Wrong one dammit- this is what Wasuke was on music.” You’re catching one of them murmur. Just about the only thing they have time for before scurrying away - leaving the boombox very, very behind. And you don’t have to look behind you to know that Ryomen Sukuna was likely seething enough to make the spring water itself bubble.
Sukuna growls, “Fucking George Michael.”
“Actually I think that’s Akon.”
Sukuna slams his open palm against the edge of the pool, and you have to open up your palms to stop yourself from being splashed. He murmurs, more to himself, “All because I didn’t wanna fuckin’ scare you- not that they’d-”
“Wait, why’d you think you’d scare me?” You ask in confusion.
To which he looks at you in genuine bewilderment, as if that wasn’t even worthy to be a question. “You’re beautiful.” He states, like there were no truer words.
Before gesturing at himself- those naturally rosy locks, the four arms, the faint slash across his abs where they said his second mouth was to be. Cursed with strength, cursed with power, cursed with looks that defined him as something more than human. “Look at me- just fuckin’ look at me. And that’s not all- how shall I be expected to live a normal marriage when I’ve been cursed from birth? I only ask for forgiveness that I’d been selfish with my choice of you, my wife-”
“Well, I don’t forgive you.”
It’s silence, and he looks torn between hanging his head in understanding, and taking your words head on.
“Because I think you’re beautiful, too.” You say it honestly. “My beautiful husband.”
And, for not the last time that night, the big, bad cursed Sukuna blushes.
‘Felt so good~’
.
.
.
“Sh-shit—” Your back arches lewdly, allll the way back until your naked, puffy core could reach as much of Sukuna’s mouth as possible. “Think I like it better when you’re like- ngh, this.”
Just a few minutes and one rapid trip to your bedroom later found you with your previous clothes in a heap across Sukuna’s bedroom floor. Your thighs shakin’, hips bucking wildly as you straddled his mouth—no, not his first.
You were riding his second mouth.
The wildly monstrous one slashed across the middle of his stomach, large and hungry. He’d gaped it open immediately once you’d clamored up his washboard abs, letting the curled tip of his second tongue slide deftly between your inner thighs.
Playfully flickering in patterns straight up to the target of your cunt-
“Haaah, so you’ve decided you like- mmm, this mouth more than me?” One of his four hands teasingly dips downwards to grace your pussy with a solid spank.
So loud, so wet that it makes his cursed mouth lick its lips in greed. “Really not gonna talk t’me now then? Not even through these lips?” Another one. And it’s letting off the rawest slurp that muffles your own squeal- “Though, I think she disagrees, huh, baby?”
Through gritted teeth, you somehow manage to force out, “Shut up-”
“Alright alriiiight.” Sukuna trails off, seemingly back to focusing on the ministrations of his tongue.
Your eyes are dangerously on the verge of criss-crossing as he glissades it up every bead of slick escaping you. Laid flat n’ draaaaagging across every inch of skin he could reach, the flexible tip of his tastebuds were just barely touching your treacly folds when-
Spank!
Even harder this time. And your mind whirls stupidly at the stinging sensation that just felt so good- “N-ngh, fuck–”
You were bending so cutely on top of him, and Sukuna can’t help but lean his hulking figure further down the king-sized mattress. “Atta girl.” Bucking up so that you’re fully seated on top of his second mouth now, slick dribbling all down his obliques, his cursed tongue glued to your clit.
Sticking between your folds, his pinkish tastebuds rover ‘round and ‘round that fat nub where you were most sensitive. Just barely gurgling out, “And here I th-thought you were shy-”
“And here I thought you were dumbified, hmpf.” With a roll of his eyes, your husband chuckles. “Guess not yet.”
It was as much a warning as he would give you - and it wasn’t a warning at all.
Before the fat girth of his finger is rudely pryin’ apart your pussylips and shoving the first few inches inside. Until you’re being spearheaded by him, he’s trying to scope every inch of you. He’s trying to snake his muscle in until he’s probed into every nook n’ cranny.
“F-fuuuuuck—” Sukuna groans out, watching through half-lidded peripherals at the way your tight hole was trying to suck him up. So thick, he can count every throb of your walls around him, one-two-three-four- “Are we sure yer not dumbified- hah, already? Look how fucking wet ya are, mama.”
“N-ngh, Kuna—”
Your whines are botched with pants, after each time his finger is swabbing its way inside. Fitting in two- moving in the slightest half-ruts just to fit inside- again. And again and again.
Each passing second had him probin’ into a new corner of your pussy - and yet, it still wasn’t enough for the clan leader. Which is why Sukuna finds his tongue slithering back and forth your folds, pushing them apart until he was given a front row seat to your depravity. “See? A damn- fuck- waterpark. Are ya always like this or m’I just special, huh?”
“You’re not gonna be special if you- mmpf, talk so- ngh, much-” The stretch is so incredible that you’re forced to bite down on the gummy insides of your cheek. A necessity if you didn’t want to wake the entire house up tonight.
But Sukuna had other plans.
Rose brows raising in slight surprise, “Ohhhh? That good, huh?” The edges of his sleazy grin twitch once he’s tuggin’ on your dripping wet entrance even further, pumping in the expanse of a third lengthy finger. “M’just gonna take that as a sign m’special~”
“Kuna-”
Oh, you were just so pretty huffin’ and puffin’ atop him like this. It’s enough to make his second mouth slobber with greed, edging dangerously towards the circle of your stuffed hole. “Alright alriiight. Brace yourself, baby.”
“Brace m- wha- oh.”
Before you know it, his fat fingerpads are pushed oh-so-deeply inside. So deep that you think he’s filling out every drivelling orifice, pumping furiously.
Sukuna fucks you with his fingers like he’s trying to make you remember. Like he’s trying to hook into all of your sweetest spots, the ridges of his joints brush up slightly against your g-spot. You mewl, “It’s so- oh, I’ve never felt so full-”
“Yeahhhh- those fingers of yours can’t do this, huh? Poor thing.” Fauxly cooing, he’s rovering you so open. Your husband’s fingers were so big that he didn’t even have to try to leave you trembling- to leave you whimpering as he pulls out in a quick split-second.
Wordlessly despite your disappointed cries, you crack your teary eyelids open to find that Sukuna was slipping off the silver metal wedding ring off of one of his left hands. And pushing it down onto his slick-glazed right hand- before thoroughly thrusting. “S’gonna be a stretch- gonna be a biiig stretch. You can take it, mama.”
“C-can I?” Your thighs twitch stupidly at the frigid feeling of his ring scraping your soft insides.
This way, you could pinpoint the exact way he was moving inside of you: in and out in and out, curling to hit your g-spot.
And Sukuna can tell the exact moment his stirrin’ fingers target your most sensitive spot- because you’re panting, you’re bucking. You’re throwing your head back once he plunges his slick-glazed fingers out to do it all over again and again, until his knuckles hit your pussylips raw. “Hell yeah, ya can. How’re you gonna, mmm, take all of me if you can’t even- oh, take these, hm?”
You’re pouting, “I-I can…”
“What’s that?”
In an effort to prove it to him, you bounce your hips right back into his sloppy cadence. “I can-” And it only makes your cunt squelch even louder the closer you are to his slippery tongue.
“You can?”
“Y-”
His hips jerk upwards roughly, grazing that ridged texture of his tastebuds from the very bottom of your pussy, up, up, up to the tip of your slope. And it’s loud. “You can?” Your heart races, it’s only then that you realize he wasn’t talking to you - he was talking to your other pair of lips. “Then take it- take- ngh.”
Harder and harder. His probin’ mess was reaching a fever point and you’re rubbing yourself pathetically on the prolonged muscle of his tongue.
And the more ravenous his cursed mouth became - edging his globular tip nearer n’ nearer to your stretched-out hole - the more ruined he was becoming. Bucking himself up animalistically, two hands of his control the grindin’ of your hips- manhandling you down just enough so that the wetness of your cunt just barely touches his rock-hard cocks.
“F-fuck!” You’re whining at the feeling of two thick mushroomy tips touching your skin.
And Sukuna doesn’t touch himself- no matter how many hands he has. Having you on top of him like this would be a sure-fire way to cream himself in his pants before he even started. His pretty lips wobbling, eyes scrunching closer the harder his aching erections throbbed.
He was so sexy. And you can’t stop yourself from staring- something he notices even when he’s in this state. “Wh-what?” Flinching at the sheer intensity, “The fuck are ya looking at, huh?”
“I’m just th-thinking…” And you have to stop yourself from moaning as he pulls out his plump fingers in punishment. They were glistening, dripping with so much of your juicy sap that Sukuna sucks clean in front of you.
Before slipping back in—“That I’d- oh- love to make you, mmm, shut up.”
Rolling his crimson eyes, “Oh, you’d love to make me shut up, huh?” And he was so smug. So sure of himself…until the leader catches onto the way you’d been rutting against his second mouth. Riding. And, slowly, those hazy peripherals of his widen- “Fuck…don’t tell me-”
You only nod.
“-you seriously wanna be fucked by my cursed mouth?”
Nodding drunkenly again-
“O-oh.” His head falls back into the satin pillows as you’re slipping it in, the slimy tendril of his tongue finally scouring into where he’d wanted to for so long now.
It feels incredible.
Finally hooking ‘round your tight entrance to push in, in, in—he’s just so big that once Sukuna’s unfurling his greedy tongue, it feels damn near never-ending. And you felt so tight pulsing around him, squeezing him inside once, twice, thrice. “Ya- ya really are gonna be the death of me- fuck!”
You start to ride him and it makes the big, bad Ryomen Sukuna mooooan, twitching his way inside of you. Since you were already softened up by his fingers, it was easy work for him to pull out and immediately replace himself with those rude tastebuds of his.
Straightened out so he can probe around your walls, the length of his cursed tongue was pumping n’ pumping.
You’d never felt anything like this before. And you swear you see the mouth on his belly chuckle darkly as he fucks you like he would with his cocks. Salivating. Sploshing your poor insides until you have him memorized.
Sukuna’s tongue swerves along your walls until he brushes the very back of your cervix, softly mushing it in. Again. And again. And again—“Fuh-fuuuuck—” You’re gurgling out, wet wads of saliva dribbling down each side of your lips. “Who’s the one dumbified now?”
“Wh-what- ngh-” His eardrums were popped from the pure pressure, barely able to make out your words.
And through the constant rams of his tongue, you manage to string together- “I-I said, who’s the- oh, dumbified one n- oh!”
“You.” In that very moment, he has his bumpy tastebuds glued to your g-spot, his hips arching right off the tense bedsprings, core tensed. Sukuna slashes his cursed mouth into your favorite area and grooooans, “Still you.”
He squeezes your perked clit with the tips of his rude fingers, still with the ring on one of them. And the backs of your eyes explode with white-hot pleasure at the dual pleasure - his tongue fucking you ferally, his digits teasing your clit. “Yes it is- hngh, because it’s gonna make me…”
Cum.
You were so close, you could feel it in each swab of his tongue. Gaped open even wider for the most maximum movements, each thrash is angled just right against your g-spot.
Just right to stretch out your glistening walls until they’re taking the shape of him. And he hums, “Yeahhhhh— all over.” Your clingy slick is drenching his abs by now, like a waterfall that he’s scooping up with a fourth hand.
One on your clit, two on your hips to move you pliably up n’ down his length, and his final one getting absolutely soaked. Sukuna brings them up to his primary mouth to suck off the layers of candied slick, smearing it all over his lips like some delicacy. “Yeah, allll over now, mama. Make a hah- mess of me.”
Your jaw unfastens as you watch him clean himself off, every single drop. “Oh my…hngh.”
“What? Mmm, jealous?” Ruder, harder. It was just so sloppy how his mouth rovered all over your cunt, slippin’ and slidin’ back and forth at a constant pace. “Maybe if you were, hah, patient, you could’ve gotten that.”
“As if I’d want that…” You’re huffing, stubborn.
“My wife, you’re just- about- to cum- on me.” The space between each word is slashed with a push of his rovering fat tip, and a thorough squeeze on your clit.
To which you’re shooting back- “And you were about to cum- ngh, untouched.”
And you think he’ll tease you back. You think he’ll bully you until you’re driven mad - but Ryomen Sukuna was moaning in agreement.
Speeding up the pace of his velvety tongue, he’s slithering it with a deep bash against your g-spot. Grunting, “Can you blame me?” Harder. Something at the back of his throat cracks. He begs, “Such a pretty, oh, fuckin’ wife like you and- and I’m expected to stay calm?”
Hiccuping, “I- I don’t- Kuna, I’m not gonna last-”
Faster. “M’expected not to get pussydrunk? Expected to not fucking- lose it. F-fuck-” Sloppier.
And you don’t get to hear what the tail end of his sentence might have been. Because with a few more vulgar strokes, you’re breaking apart—cumming.
Lids cracking with tears, lips wobbling out whines.
His name, over and over again. Your cute noises are so loud that he has half the mind to wonder whether those damn elders will hear, “Cum—ing-” You announce, belatedly. Body shaking with each peak of your high, “Feels so- so good, oh.”
“Does it, now?” He babbles away, drunk on your honeyed pussy. The sheer primal clench of your walls almost made it hard for him to fuck you through your wave of bliss. “Good- good, atta girl, cream all down my t-tongue now.”
The curvaceous tip of his tongue was constantly pricking your g-spot, and it only drags out your orgasm even further. Until you were nothing but a sobbing mess, “Am- oh, I am.”
“Mhmmm— go ahead.” Your thighs twitch, head dropping backwards as the last few dredges of your high are pounded away. “Go ahead- take it. Take it all out on me.” With a few twinges of electricity that zap down your spine, you can finally manage to crack open your eyes.
But you notice that just as you’ve reached your high, Sukuna did, too.
Or, at least, he was trying oh-so-desperately not to.
As your pace lazes, his two hands on your waist glide down to his plump, aching erections. Both sets of thumbs rover on top of his leaking orifices, squeezing just so he won’t leak out in cum. Stopping himself from cumming untouched.
And that makes you huff, “Kuna…” Your newfound nickname for him makes him flush, and you instantly swat away his hands. “Want it now.”
“Cheh-” Those hazy, blood-red eyes of his narrow, and somewhere in the distance, you can hear the tight snap of his underwear being pulled. “What a spoiled lil’ wife…”
But that wouldn’t stop him from indulging you, of course.
Sukuna breathes in heavy puffs, and you barely even have the time to catch yours before he’s immediately clawing onto the right side of your ass cheek with one hand.
Usin’ that sinful leverage to manhandle you straight down onto one of his plush tips, the thick circumference of his shaft throbs against your hole and you moan. Head snapping down- “Fuck.”
Oh, fuck.
He was so…big.
And that was being humble- you’d come to learn that not only was Sukuna gifted with extra height and limbs, he was gifted with extra size too.
Two fat, veiny lengths laid between two meaty thighs, they were colored the prettiest tan flush on their tips. Dribbling down heaps of precum that puddled between the two of you. By now, the curly pink hairs at the bottom of his bases were already drenched, and his ballsack was so tight with need.
Sukuna was so hard that every throb was visible. So big that it made your thighs squeeze together.
Mentally, you’re calculating just how it might be possible for him to fit inside you. Before his rough tone cuts off your thoughts, “Ah ah- we can count together, mama. Say it w’me now-”
“Wha- one!” Almost laughable, he’s then bullying in just the thickened front of one cock. They were stacked vertically, and as you get pierced by the lower one, his upper one was rubbin’ primally on your front.
Sukuna’s mean fingers draw an invisible line from up your treacly slit, measuring. “Mmm- s’more like two inches.”
“Two-” You blabber, “Then how much more-”
“Guess we’ll just have to find out, heh~”
And he meant it.
Before long, Sukuna was fucking up into you furiously. Ferally. Thrust after half-thrusts just to fit his incredible size inside, “Tha’s about four…mmm, more three.” He’s drunk on your pussy, counting away how many solid, sopping inches managed to be squeezed in each time. In a split-second, your poor pussy’s being spanked. “You too, baby.”
“It’s just so- ngh—” Your head throws back for the nth time tonight, singing in synchronization with the creaks of the bed.
It’s like he was jackhammerin’ you, mazing your slick-filled insides with the globe of his cockhead. Sukuna was so long that it was easy to massage your every sweet spot- again and again. “Whaaaat? Can’t take it? Fuck, wee’re only about-” On your tummy, he measures out how far he’d slid inside by now. “S-six inches, still. About halfway?”
Your eyes bulge—halfway?
It’s a shock so large that the rest of your body loosens up, weakened. Just perfect for him to grab onto your hips, your thighs, one hand on your neck to jostle your cute body up n’ down his cock.
“S’it too much for my, mmm, good wife?” Mercilessly, he’s spitting between your ajar mouth. “Took my tongue but you can’t even take one of my cocks- aw, c’mon now, mama.”
“I-I-”
“I-I-I- whaaaat?” Octaves higher. Your husband leans in until his heated breath burns the shell of your ear, whispering, “Gonna hafta speak up, y’know? Unless ya want me to- fuck- it out- of you-”
And you always did surprise him. Because where the head of the Itadori clan expected to be met with a few sobs, a few pleas, you’re only straddling his toned hips tighter.
Swervin’ your hips down in a dizzying figure-eight to help him stuff your cunt full of him. And even though it still wasn’t enough to bottom out completely, you look up at him through teary lashes. “I want both, Kuna.”
Sukuna’s pink lashes flutter, his breath catches. “Wh-what?” And he stutters. Oh, you’d made him stutter - just as nervous and awestruck as he was on your wedding night.
“Both.” You can only repeat the word.
Because at that very second– before your response has even graced his very ears, he’s rutting up into you like an animal. Like a dog in heat, Sukuna’s crushing your front to his abs and his cocks to your cunt.
Pap!
“Fuck…” He hisses at the sting of flesh slamming on flesh, “Eleven. What was that?”
And you’re being dumbified by the sheer stretch, not only had he started kissin’ your puckered pussylips with his second cock - he was starting to press inside. No hesitation, no waiting around for you to get used to the stretch. Sukuna was hungry.
You somehow choke through wads of your own spit, “More- both- oh fuck!”
“What? S-say it again-” He’s like a broken record at this point, and so were his plunging cocks. Deeper n’ deeper. Your drivelling entrance was now stretched out so widely over the circumferences of his bases, sobbing just as much as you were.
“Bo-”
“Twelve- again.”
It was a damn wonder that he could still spit out coherent words. Stammering. Heaving.
The hand of Sukuna’s that’d been caressing your front was now slithering down to cup both his shafts. Guiding them upwards to press in—“Gonna have ya take it a-all until here-” You snap your head down to see what he was talking about - only to catch a lil’ you’d missed in your observations of his size before.
Those two ring tattoos at the base ends of his cocks.
The sight itself is so lecherous that it has you moaning- “Oh, yes- both.”
“Yeah? So sit pretty and take it, baby.” They were glistening with your sultry sap, nearly kissing your folds by now. “Allll the way until m’tattoos- got it, girl? Alllll the way until…” Stupidly, you’re nodding. And he can only breathe through clenched teeth, “Fuh-fuck! Thirteen.”
Thirteen.
Thirteen entire inches - each.
You’d finally reached the tattoos. And they were stuffed pretty n’ puffily inside you. Throb-throb-throbbing away against your every tiny orifice, Sukuna didn’t even have to try to mold your gooey cunt to him.
As you open your mouth to demand him to move, he plunges in two of his thick fingers. Messily dragging himself towards the back of your throat, “Tch- such a dangerous fuckin’ mouth. M’gonna hafta fuck that outta ya.”
You’re whimpering, your jaw dangling agape perfectly for him to spit inside. And then his second mouth—targetting your pussy with a thick glue of spittle.
At least he was nice enough to give you an actual semi-warning this time.
Because before long, two hands are clawing at your sides. Pinning you down so that his two shafts can prick your cervix neatly, bottomed out and yet still trying to go deeper.
When he finds that futile, Sukuna bodily bounces you up n’ down his upright erections. “Oh my god- o-oh my god.” One of his angular shafts was bashing in your sponged cervix, and the other was just below n’ cutely rubbing on your g-spot. “Fuck it just feels so- good!”
“Aaaaatta girl, enjoy it.” With a hand on your throat, he bends you back into an arch.
The pressure is almost too much - so much. You find your body naturally torn between running away and yearning for more, more, more. Though, luckily, the clan leader’s there to help you make that decision. “Nuh uh, no runnin’, baby. Put your back into it- taaaake it, you see how much she likes it?”
“Can- can hear-”
“Mhm—”
And truly, your overfilling pussy was so loud. Every splatter of precum inside you made the most primal squelches- and the volume?
The sheer sploshes of his gooey translucent sap was enough to bloat your pussy. But now with two plump, vein-covered cocks of his probin’ your innards, he was fucking a tummy bulge into you. You gasp at the feeling, “I d-didn’t even know that was- hck! possible-”
“Heh, course it is—And y’know how to make that cute lil’ tummy bulge of yours even bigger?” Sukuna beckons you closer, like he’s about to tell you a secret.
Even though, really, he’s manhandling you like a ragdoll. Reeling you in until his scorched hot lips were grazing your own, murmuring. “I just…hafta…fuck a baby into you, my wife.”
Almost on cue - like a little preparation - both of his strawberry-red divots stream out a few beads of precum. Splattered against your walls, they drip n’ cream down the sides of your pussy and make you see stars. “I would like that- oh, I would- I would like that.”
“Mmm— and what about you?”
Evidently, your needy cunt’s in agreement, too. Because the wettest noises suddenly let off from between your legs- and only later do you realize that it wasn’t just because of how damp your pussy was. No, it was because of his second mouth.
Tonguing down the shimmery sheen of slick upon each of your thighs, he licks up every drop of juice you were leaking. Flicking the curly end of his tongue at your clit-
“Ah ah- focus on me.” Sukuna snaps you out of your high with a light spank on your slope, and a literal click of his fingers.
“B-but how can I when it feels so goood—”
“So goooood, huh?” He drags it out purposefully, pressing his thumping veins against the roof of your channel.
Sukuna knew the effect he had on you. He knew how to target your favorite spot in strikes so precise that it left your toes curling, vision flashing with white. “Tell me-” Right now, he had one hand smearing apart your folds to better let his tongue slip between them. Another two hands clung onto your waist to help you move, and the fourth and final was grabbing your face. Pushing your cheeks together pathetically, “Can’t focus? Awww, my poor wife. Are that- oh, useless at focusing on anything that isn’t my two c-cocks right now?”
“N-ngh, Kuna—” Cute. How cute. Your dilated pupils were swirlin’ in circles inside the whites of your eyes, comically pounded stupid after each stroke upon stroke.
“S’that the case, huh? Is that why my mouthy girl is so- oh, fuck- quiet now?” He’s almost snickering- it’s so ruthless.
Heavy hips pressuring up into you. He was pounding you in rough thrusts, all the way from the mazing curve of his cockheads to those tickling tufts of pink at his very bottom. And Sukuna has the audacity to spit—“Fuck, mama. Do you even know your name right now?”
Your brain was too hazy, merely sparking with twitches of pleasure. You’re left blubbering nonsensically for a few seconds, until his tongue slaps your buttony clit. Startling you into answering, “I-I…”
“Heh, do you even know mine?”
“K-Kuna—” You might not remember your own name by now, but screaming Sukuna’s over n’ over had permanently branded his into your mind.
And so you look up at your husband’s handsome, leering features for any recognition. Only to find him tutting, “Now now, how disa- oh, disappointing. I thought you’d most importantly know who I am, at least.”
“Then…clan leader?”
“Nuh uh.”
Pouting, “B-but ”
“B-b-b-but-” He’s mocking, buttery tongue now rubbin’ your nub raw. You felt overstimulated enough to press your chin between his puffy pecs, like cushions. Sheening out drool all over his skin- “Say my title before you cum, baby.” You listen with bated breath, “M’your husband. And m’always gonna be your husband.”
“M-my husband?” Your mouth drops - and you’re unsure whether it’s because of his words, or the sudden increase of his tempo. Hot and hard.
His twin, rock-hard crowns plummet all the way until you swear you can feel him poke your lungs. Throbbing at a thunderous staccato, he breathes—“Gonna be your husband that fucks you like th-thiiiis—” Punctuated by a few sloppy drags of his vein-decorated lengths, “Gonna be your husband that eats you out like m’starved.” A few hearts that he’s drawin’ on your clit with his extra prolonged tongue.
“Fuck- fuck I’m gonna—”
As your sobs break off, his roughened hand dips from your throat to the slick n’ precum dripping down your thighs. And you faintly notice the way he’s using the moisture to write out his own name—
Ryomen Sukuna.
Signed off with a little heart on your skin, “And m’gonna be your husband that…” And a second heart right above where your womb was, where he was jackhammering into your womb like no other. Flooding it with copious knots of cum like he was practising for something else soon.
Sukuna leans down sweetly so that his lips trace your earlobe, whispering. “-breeds this pretty pussy alllll full.” Tapping the front of your pussy, like he was just imagining it.
And that does it for you. That does it.
Before long your head falls into the crook of his neck with a dull thud, so utterly dumbified on your sudden orgasm that you can only blabber. “Kuna- Kuna—!”
Your thighs were shaking, cunt fluttering with each spasm of pleasure.
And if Sukuna was going to fuck you through your high, he was going to fuck you through your high. Every probe of his rovering cocks increased your bliss tenfold, exact hits to your g-spot.
Sobbing, “Please-” You can only hold onto his flexed, tattooed deltoids for dear life. Clawing down his skin due to the constant stimulation, you bow your spine backwards and meet his ferocious thrusts. Riding out the euphoria- spark after spark that made your toes curl.
Grunting, he just felt so used right now. And he loved it. “Yes yes yes- let this entire house know. Let that whole council ngh- hear how good of a husband I am to you.”
It lasts until you’re gurgling on your own whines, zaps of electricity still shooting from your cunt. “Let them-” And Sukuna dares to smush your tear-wettened cheeks together to coo, “Fuck, what’s that–? What’s that pretty mouth hafta- hngh, say t’me?”
And you somehow manage out, “I-inside.” A shaky hand of yours snakes down to part your pussylips wider, helping his roverin’ tongue. “My husband…”
Ryomen Sukuna’s eyes widen, his kiss-bitten lips part.
You could almost hear the deep, trembling gasp that he’s inhaling. Letting out only five words—“I l-love you, my wife.”
You aren’t granted the time to formulate a response- before his thick, battered cockheads start spilling out. Flooding your cunt in mere seconds, you’re just dripping down your thighs in thick clumps of his seed.
And his cursed mouth is more than happy to indulge in all the miry ribbons of sap, lickin’ all upwards until a thin, ivory gloss coats its lips. Sukuna looks down and groans, “Oh fuck- oh fuck fuck fuck fuck-”
His flush was scorching, face scrunched in pleasure. You’re purring, “You’re so pretty, baby—”
“Ah, m’so glad I married ya.” He can’t stop the lil’ confession that leaves his mouth. Heart too full- your cunt too full. And if you saw one of the strongest, most vicious clan leaders in existence smile through a fiery blush n’ his pussydrunk tears, then you mercifully don’t comment.
“M’glad I married you too, Kuna—”
And you’d felt nothing like this before. Having his gluey cum splosh around inside of you, both of his lengths were shoved in so deeply that they were constantly coating your cervix in white. Your womb.
Your deepest orifices that leak out as Sukuna plants a hand on your tummy and presses, watching with bated breath as his seed gushes out of you like a waterfall. “Fuck- didn’t think it would be like th-this, ngh.” He was hypnotized, making an even bigger mess of you. “Didn’t think that it would be s-so…” Addictive.
He doesn’t finish his sentence. For now.
Red eyes teary, Adam’s apple gulping. You’d completely sucked him dry by the time that Sukuna was pulling out of you. The matching mushroom tips of his shafts twitching, reddened and sensitive.
He hisses as they bob in the air for a few seconds, before-
“Kuna- oh, fuck.”
Before you were flipped over and pressed deep into the mattress. Your legs on his shoulders, your knees near your tits—and his mouth over your overstimulated cunt.
Letting you cream all down his chin, Sukuna has to swat away his cursed mouth just to get a taste of you himself. And the moment his plush lips touch your glazed folds- you’re trying to run away. Failing.
“Now now, my wife.” Being draaaaagged back down by all four of his big, beefy arms. Sukuna pecks exactly six open-mouthed kisses on your sloppy hole, his lengthy pinkish tongue coming out to sluuurp—“I remember something about…six heirs?”
Oh.
.
.
.
“Y’know, there’s really nothing wrong with impotency.”
Wasuke grunts, a few elders nod. “Agreed.”
“But maybe he’s taken a vow of celibacy-”
“Maybe his dicks fell off.”
“Choso Kamo!” It was never too early in the morning for Itadori Jin to squawk at his sons, especially when they were in the middle of what was undoubtedly an exceptionally important subject of conversation - the two of you.
He wags his butter knife like a weapon, “We do not say those words in front of Yuji, and especially not in front of our toast.” Before reality sets in and he drags a hand down his face, “But yes…that is possible…”
Wasuke deems it to be the perfect time to chime in, “Bah! I don’t care if they fell off or if they multiplied- I just want grandkids.”
“Father, might I remind you that it was you who decided to interrupt their little moment last night?” A vein pops out beside Jin’s temple, and in his periphery can see the other guilty elders shift in their seats.
The old man does, too, but still in denial. “Slander! That is propaganda that I will not be falling for-”
“Father, we have multiple eye witnesses. I am an eye witness.”
“And what were you doing spying with us?”
“…”
As Itadori Wasuke rests his case, the winding table falls into perhaps the first quiet of the morning. Somewhat tense. Somewhat anticipating. That is, until an oblivious Yuji nearly upturns his bowl of cereal to chime in—“Exorcist-”
“What? Choso, did you let him watch your-” Jin starts- and then stops. Because then he’s seeing exactly what his youngest son was looking at - you and Sukuna.
Well, more like you in Sukuna’s arms. It seemed that you were having some trouble waddling down the Estate’s multiple flights of stairs, painstakingly taking it one at a time to enter the dining room. And he has half the mind to nearly ask what’s wrong, perhaps even get up and help you himself- until he sees it.
Oh, it was hard to miss.
He sees it, and so does everyone else within a five mile radius: the bite marks, the bruises, the slight weariness in both your eyes from lack of sleep. It almost looked as if you two had been thrown to the wolves.
And his younger brother often did forgo a shirt for breakfast, but now he’d haphazardly thrown on a yukata. One that showed off such feral scratches disappearing down his back, his neck, fuck- maybe even his thighs?
Jin drops his butter knife, Choso exits the table, and Wasuke…was he even breathing? Hell, Jin was sure that a few of the surrounding elders had honest-to-heavens fainted right then and there.
Nearly everyone knew what happened.
Except for a beaming Itadori who was the first to gain your dual attentions, squealing out a “G’morning–!” that you both reciprocate in hushed, hoarse voices. Fuck, he even swears he heard Sukuna’s gruff baritone crack.
No one comments, of course, for the dark glint in their clan leader’s eyes promised sure death if they did. Though, Jin does roll his eyes at a few of the whispering council members—
“What a glorious, wonderful day it is. I truly do believe in miracles-”
“My bets are on a girl- but a boy would also be-”
“Akon worked?”
He doesn’t think he can judge, though. Not when he’s immediately pulling out his phone to text Yuji’s teacher, Haibara, about the salacious new updates. Ah, can you blame him? You two would make the prettiest lil’ babies.
Finally, you and Sukuna finally take your seats at the clan table. Grinning. And by the looks on your faces, Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t impotent. Not at all.
summary: five months after your very messy breakup with ryomen sukuna, things have been heating up. between jealous mind games, hooking up with his best friends for revenge, and flirting with men just to piss him off at parties, you manage to drive ryomen so crazy he can't contain it any longer. old grudges flare, stolen glances ignite lust, and every chaotic night threatens to pull you both back into each other’s orbit, messy, raw, and unavoidable. (angsty, messy, and oh so tense!)
art creds: @/winterrbluess
“yeah, go on y/n, leave like you always do, see if i give a fuck!” sukuna snarls, slamming his beer down hard enough on the counter that it sloshes over the rim.
you whip around, teeth bared. “don’t act like you give a fuck about anything, sukuna. you’ve been a brainless fucking corpse for months! i might as well of been dating a wall.”
he laughs in your face, that mean, mocking laugh that makes your blood boil. “please. you weren’t dating me, you were pestering me. always running your mouth, always needing attention. i should’ve dumped you the second you started getting bratty.”
your jaw drops, fury flooding in fast. “say that again, asshole.”
“what? that you’re fucking annoying? that i couldn’t stand waking up to your voice anymore?” he leans in, sneering, “you think you’re sunshine or some shit, but really you’re just loud and desperate.”
your hand shakes, but it’s with rage, not hurt. “god, you’re disgusting. i wasted a year of my life on you. everyone was right!
you’re nothing but a burnout loser with tattoos to hide the fact you’ve got nothing going for you.”
his smirk vanishes, replaced by that sharp, dangerous glare. “watch your fucking mouth.”
“or what?” you snap back. “you gonna hit me? wouldn’t surprise me, you’ve been acting like a fucking animal since december.”
he steps back, jaw tight, nostrils flaring. “get the fuck out before i really lose it.”
“gladly,” you spit, grabbing your bag. “rot in hell, sukuna. it’s all you’ll ever be good for.”
the door slams so hard it rattles the frames, but you don’t hear the bottle he hurls at the wall after, glass shattering like the last of whatever was left between you.
...
that was 5 months ago. 5 months since your messy break up with the one and only, ryomen sukuna. behind all the pda, the flirty instagram posts, the tattoo of your name across his back he got four months into the relationship, ryomen was anything but a good boyfriend.
sure, he was the picture perfect example of a sexy, protective man in public. and sure, he was known for turning down any romantic advancements with the harshness of a puritan, but god, that protective mentality was what drove you to eventually drop him. he was guarded, too brooding, too macho. it was hard keeping up with such a sternly man when you yourself were the complete opposite; witty, funny, and so so sweet.
so, inevitably, the relationship ended on very bad terms. ever since the day you left him standing stranded in his apartment with no girlfriend to constantly fall back on, things had been rocky between not only the two of you, but your entire shared friend group.
~
"ryo, what's good man."
gojo had his long, muscular arm outstretched in a fist waiting for sukuna to knock knuckles, but was rudely ignored when the tatted man pushed past him and shot straight up the stairwell of their frat, beta tau.
rolling his eyes, satoru turned to geto who was sat on one of the old cracked leather couches in the common room, flopping down next to him.
"the fucks his issue now? i swear every other week he's got his dick in a knot."
geto shrugged with a laugh, moving over to accomodate his lanky best friend.
"dunno. maybe it was that mixer last night, probably saw y/n with another one of her boy toys and got his ego trampled on." suguru replied, running a hand through his long black locks.
"he needs to move the fuck on with his life, his whole jealousy thing lately is really bumming the whole group out, kinda selfish if you ask me." gojo complained, sifting through the chicks in his instagram dms like a teacher doing roll call.
geto only scoffed in reply, while mumbling an agreement under his breath.
unbeknownst to the two boys, sukuna wasn't JUST mad about seeing you grinding up on that 6'2 polynesian last night, no way. he had bigger issues, like the fact you had been able to make a scene with a new guy at every party he's been to this past summer, and he hasn't been able to look at another girl without wanting to throw up his guts.
you. it's always fucking you.
every time he closed his eyes it was your face, your laugh, your stupid little smirk when you were being a brat, the way you’d get too close just to piss him off. and then there was last night. your hands all over that other guy like you’d forgotten who used to put you on your knees in the same damn house.
“pathetic,” he muttered, running both hands down his face, nails scraping over his jaw. “fuckin’ pathetic.”
what pissed him off most was that you weren’t supposed to win. you weren’t supposed to bounce back, weren’t supposed to light up every room like nothing had happened. you were supposed to crawl back. you were supposed to miss him.
instead, here he was, half feral in his bedroom, a grown man pacing like a caged dog because you’d so much as smiled at another guy.
“loud, desperate, so fucking annoying.” the words tore out of him like venom, the same ones he’d thrown at you that night. he spat them again now, harsher, like if he repeated them enough times they’d finally bury the truth. that maybe he didn’t hate your voice. maybe he needed it. maybe silence had been fucking unbearable ever since you left.
his fists slammed against the edge of his dresser, the wood denting under his knuckles. “stupid bitch.”
but the second it left his mouth, he was gritting his teeth, chest tight, because the image of you that night he let you go was seered into his mind.
he wanted to tear the whole room apart.
instead, he sank into the edge of his bed, elbows braced on his knees, head in his hands. his walls were covered in the ghosts of you, your bracelets still on his desk, a hoodie you never picked up shoved in the corner. he hadn’t been able to get rid of them. maybe he wanted to punish himself. maybe he wanted proof that he hadn’t made you up.
“fuck,” he muttered, voice hoarse, staring down at the tattoo on his ribs, the one he hadn’t been drunk enough to regret until now. your name carved into his skin like a curse.
no matter how many times he tried to convince himself he hated you, his body knew the truth.
he still belonged to you...
a knock dragged him out of his spiral. three dull raps against the door, too lazy to belong to anyone but a few guys in the house.
“what.” his voice came out a snarl, jagged around the edges. he pushed off the bed, stalking to the door, ready to tear into whoever thought now was a good time.
when he yanked it open, choso stood there, shoulders slouched like always, a hoodie swallowing him whole. his half-lidded eyes flicked up and down sukuna once before he said, flat as ever, “you got a spare lighter?”
sukuna’s lip curled. “that’s what you knocked for? a fucking lighter?”
“yeah,” choso said, unbothered.
sukuna held the glare for another beat, chest heaving, but it was hard to keep it burning with choso’s deadpan stare aimed at him. guy looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, not like someone who’d come to pick a fight.
“jesus christ,” sukuna muttered, shoving a hand into the pocket of his sweats. he dug out a beat-up red bic and slapped it into choso’s palm. “don’t lose it. it’s my last one.”
“thanks,” choso said, tucking it into his hoodie. he didn’t leave, though. just stood there, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe, gaze heavy but not judgmental.
sukuna narrowed his eyes. “what.”
“you wanna talk about something?”
sukuna barked out a laugh, bitter. “the fuck are you, my therapist?”
“nah,” choso shrugged. “just figured, you been stomping around like a pissed-off bull all summer. thought maybe you needed someone to listen.”
sukuna opened his mouth to snap, but the edge dulled. it wasn’t like choso was wrong. he’d been walking around the frat like a storm cloud, making everyone’s life miserable. and it wasn’t like anyone else was gonna ask. gojo would just clown him. geto would roll his eyes, nanami would give too many good solutions, and toji was too emotionally immature to understand.
he sighed through his nose, rubbed a hand over his face. “fuck it. yeah. sure. you got a blunt?”
“always,” choso said, pushing off the frame.
...
the night air was thick with humidity, cicadas whining somewhere in the dark. the back porch of the house was a graveyard of old beer cans and smoke butts, the wooden steps creaking under their weight as they sat down side by side.
choso packed the blunt with methodical care, movements unhurried. sukuna bounced his knee, restless, like he could shake the gnawing thoughts out of his skull.
the lighter flicked, the end caught flame, and choso took a slow drag before passing it over.
sukuna inhaled deep, let the smoke sear down his lungs, exhaled into the thick night. for a moment, the haze dulled the edges of his fury.
“so,” choso said quietly, “it’s about y/n, right?”
sukuna shot him a look, but there was no malice behind it, just weary annoyance. “what gave it away. the part where i can’t look at a single girl without wanting to throw up? or the part where she’s been hanging off some new dude every time i see her?”
“both,” choso said, easy as ever.
sukuna dragged a hand down his face. “fuck, man. it’s like, everywhere i go, she’s just… there. laughing, dancing, acting like i don’t even exist. like i didn’t,” he cut himself off, jaw clenching. “like i didn’t matter. you know?”
choso nodded, slow. “i get it.”
sukuna took another pull from the blunt, smoke curling out between his teeth. “and it’s not even that she’s moving on. it’s the way she does it. like she’s rubbing it in my face. every party, it’s some new guy. some tall asshole with big hands on her waist. and she looks back at me while she does it. like she knows.”
“does she?” choso asked.
“of course she fucking does,” sukuna snapped. “she knows me better than anyone. she knows exactly how to cut me open. and she does it with a smile.”
he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head tipped down. the words poured out, ugly and hot.
“i told myself i hated her voice. told myself she was annoying, desperate, couldn’t shut the fuck up. but it’s all i hear now. every silence feels like it’s screaming at me because she’s not in it. i go to sleep, i hear her. i wake up, i hear her. i’m losing my fucking mind.”
the blunt passed back to choso, who took his time with it before answering. “sounds like you still love her.”
sukuna barked another laugh, harsher this time. “love? that shit’s a joke. if i loved her, i wouldn’t have told her she was nothing. i was a real shitty boyfriend man. i'd scream at her, throw shit around in arguments, make her feel worthless. love’s not supposed to look like that.”
choso gave a little shrug. “sometimes it does.”
sukuna tilted his head, glaring at him like he wanted to argue, but the words stuck in his throat. instead, he let out a sharp breath, shaking his head.
“i don’t even know what i want anymore. part of me wants to grab her, drag her back, make her fucking look at me. and part of me wants to burn it all down so i don’t have to feel like this anymore.”
choso flicked ash off the tip of the blunt, gaze steady. “both sound like wanting her.”
sukuna groaned, tipping his head back against the porch railing. stars stretched across the sky, blurred by smoke.
“fuck, man,” he muttered. “i can’t stand her. but i can’t stand not having her either.”
they sat in silence for a while, passing the blunt back and forth, the only sound the creak of the wood and the faint thrum of music inside the house.
finally, choso spoke again, voice calm as ever. “you don’t have to figure it all out tonight. just… stop lying to yourself. admit you still care. start from there.”
sukuna didn’t answer right away. he stared at the glowing tip of the blunt, then at the tattoo etched into his skin under the sleeve of his shirt. your name, carved into him like he’d branded himself long before he realized the weight of it.
“yeah,” he muttered finally, more to himself than to choso. “maybe.”
the blunt burned low, the night stretched quiet, and for once, sukuna let himself sit in the truth he’d been choking on.
"and for fucks sake, stop making shit awkward when we all get together as a group. there's another mixer we're all going to this friday, just try to relax and have fun, ryo"
"fuck off."
~
meanwhile...
your new dorm still smelled like fresh paint and cheap disinfectant, but you didn’t mind. the twin bed was already dressed in your favorite sheets, fairy lights strung haphazardly across the wall, and the little desk shoved under the window was buried under your notebooks and lip glosses. it felt yours.
“sooo,” yuki drawled, flopping onto her bed across from yours, legs crossed like a queen settling on her throne. she was scrolling on her phone, biting her nail out of boredom. “that thing on friday is official.”
you perked up, sitting criss-cross on your blanket. “what’s official?”
“sorority throwdown at delta theta. whole crew’s going.” she wiggled her brows. “and it’s theme night. cops and robbers.”
your jaw dropped. “no way. oh my god, that’s so fun.” you were already picturing outfits in your head. black mini skirts, fishnets, maybe those cuffs you still had in a drawer somewhere. “robber is obviously the hotter option, right? like little ski mask, stripes, maybe a fake money bag-”
“i knew you’d be hyped,” yuki laughed, tossing a pillow at you. “you’re such a slut for a theme party.”
“guilty,” you shot back, hugging the pillow to your chest. a big sorority party after the hell of summer? exactly what you needed. “who all’s going?”
“everyone,” she said, scrolling lazily. “gojos frat, me, maki, shoko… oh, and sukuna obviously.”
the name landed like a thud between you. your mouth snapped shut mid-rant about fake money bags.
yuki looked up then, expression leveling out. “yeah. everyone.”
you fiddled with the corner of the pillow, throat a little dry. “right. cool. whatever.”
“y/n,” she said, cutting through your act like a blade. “listen.”
you glanced at her, already bracing.
“i know things are… nuclear with you two. trust me, i know.” she tilted her head, bangs sliding into her eyes. “but you can’t go in there acting all stiff and weird around him. it’s gonna ruin the vibe. we’re finally getting the group together again without drama, don’t be the one to mess that up.”
heat rose in your cheeks, defensive words already bubbling. “i’m not the one who!”
“i know,” yuki interrupted, firm but not unkind. “but still. just… try, okay? fake it if you have to. smile, dance, drink, whatever. act like you don’t care. you’re good at that.”
you swallowed, looking down at your chipped nail polish. “but i don't care.”
yuki smirked knowingly. “sure, babe. and i’m the pope.”
you rolled your eyes, but your chest tightened all the same. the thought of walking into a party and seeing sukuna there. broad shoulders, scowl, arms inked with reminders of the year you spent under his thumb, made your stomach twist in ways you refused to name.
but you weren’t about to let yuki see that. not when she was right, you weren’t going to ruin the night for everyone else.
“fine,” you said finally, tossing the pillow back at her. “i’ll be normal. i’ll even look hot doing it.”
“that’s my girl.” yuki grinned, catching the pillow one-handed. “robber costume, though. we’ll be a duo. hottest thieves in the room.”
~
the bathroom mirror was fogged up from steam, cologne hanging thick in the air, half-empty beer cans littering the sink like confetti. frat houses weren’t built for five men to pregame in the same damn room, but that never stopped them.
“alright, boys,” gojo said, stepping back from the mirror with his aviators slid down just enough to flash his eyes, “name one girl who isn’t gonna fold when they see this lineup.”
he gestured broadly at their reflections, like he was introducing a boyband. geto adjusted the fake badge clipped to his belt, toji holstered a plastic gun in his waistband, nanami scowled at his own reflection like he regretted being here, and sukuna? sukuna just stood there in a tight cop shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his broad chest exposed under a crooked tie.
“we look like fucking idiots,” sukuna muttered, tugging at the collar.
“wrong,” gojo countered smoothly, raking his hair back with one hand. “we look hot. sexy cops? it’s a classic. universal appeal. the ladies love authority.” he winked at himself in the mirror. “especially when it comes with handcuffs.”
toji let out a low chuckle, pulling a cig from behind his ear. “gonna scare more girls off than you pull, dressed like this.”
“you’d be surprised,” geto said, smirking faintly as he smoothed his shirt over his stomach. “half the work is done for us. it’s the theme. they want us to look ridiculous. they’re gonna eat it up."
nanami pinched the bridge of his nose, already exhausted. “you all sound insufferable.”
gojo slung an arm around nanami’s shoulders anyway, grinning. “lighten up, man. you’re the best-looking one here. everyone’s gonna think you’re a serious officer of the law with that face. i guarantee you get handcuffed before midnight.”
“i’m leaving by midnight,” nanami said flatly.
“even better!” gojo beamed.
sukuna rolled his eyes, leaning against the wall. “you’re all delusional. we look like strippers from a low-budget porno.”
“and?” gojo shot back immediately. “you think that’s a bad thing? girls love strippers. it’s fantasy, baby. it’s theater.” he flicked his tie dramatically, letting it dangle.
toji blew out smoke, shaking his head. “you just like any excuse to dress like a clown.”
“not true,” gojo said, straightening his fake badge and flashing his teeth in the mirror. “i like every excuse to look better than everyone else. this is just one of them.”
geto chuckled under his breath, brushing lint from his pants. “he’s not wrong. people will eat this shit up.”
sukuna groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “yeah, well, i’m not doing this for them. i’m not even doing this for me. i’m only here because if i skip, you assholes won’t shut up about it for a week.”
gojo tilted his head, studying sukuna’s reflection in the mirror. “sure, sure. nothing to do with the fact that y/n’s gonna be there.”
the name snapped through the air like a whip.
sukuna’s eyes cut sharp to gojo, jaw tight. “shut the fuck up.”
“what?” gojo said innocently, batting his lashes from behind his shades. “i didn’t say anything. just pointing out the facts. she’s going. you’re going. who knows what’ll happen.” he smirked, adjusting his cuffs. “tension makes for great party entertainment.”
toji snorted, low and amused. “weren't you telling him yesterday not to make things tense? don’t poke the bear, gojo.”
“poke? i’m not poking.” gojo’s grin widened. “i’m observing. science. you know how it is. i’m like david attenborough, but for frat drama. narrating the wild mating dance of the tattooed gorilla.”
geto actually laughed at that one, muffled behind his hand. nanami muttered something about children under his breath.
sukuna’s nostrils flared. “you think this is funny? you think me and her being in the same room is some kind of fucking joke?”
gojo held up his hands, palms out, still smiling like he owned the room. “hey, relax. i’m just saying, it’s been months. maybe you’ll finally bury the hatchet. or…” his smirk sharpened. “maybe not. either way, it’s bound to be interesting.”
sukuna shoved off the wall, getting right in his face. “keep running your mouth, i’ll bury this hatchet in your skull.”
for a second, the air went tense, sharp, hot. but gojo didn’t flinch. he just leaned back a little, still smirking, like he was untouchable.
“see?” he said lightly. “that energy? girls are gonna eat it up. mysterious, dangerous, broody. perfect cop vibe. you’re welcome.”
sukuna growled low in his chest, but he stepped back, snatching a beer off the counter. “fuck this,” he muttered, cracking it open.
gojo just grinned wider, already turning back to the mirror to fix his hair. “good. stay pissed off. it makes you hotter.”
the room broke into scattered laughter. geto’s smooth chuckle, toji’s low rumble, even nanami’s reluctant exhale that might’ve been amusement. sukuna stayed silent, beer in hand, staring at his own reflection. the tie was crooked, the shirt half unbuttoned, the fake badge clipped to his belt like a joke.
he hated every second of it. hated the way girls outside were already whispering, sneaking glances as they passed the cracked door. hated the thought of walking into that sorority house and seeing you across the room, dressed as a robber, probably laughing at him.
and more than anything, he hated that despite all of it, despite the humiliation, the banter, the fake badge, he was still going.
because if you were going to be there, he couldn’t stay away even if he tried.
~
that night, sometime.
delta theta’s house was already thumping when you and yuki climbed the steps, music spilling out the open windows, neon lights flashing against the walls. the front porch was crowded with greek letters painted across banners, glitter dusting the air, girls in short skirts and heels swarming around like bees.
you tugged at the hem of your outfit for the fifth time that night, grinning despite yourself. slutty robber had turned out way better than you’d expected: a black striped crop top that barely covered your chest, matching micro skirt clinging to your hips, fishnet tights ripped strategically up the thighs. a toy money bag dangled from your wrist, and a tiny ski mask was pushed up like a headband, hair falling wild around your face.
“god, i look like i’m about to rob a strip club,” you laughed, adjusting your fishnets as yuki looped her arm through yours.
“exactly the point,” she smirked. she was in a matching set, tight black leather shorts and a little mask painted over her eyes. “hottest thieves in the room, remember?”
inside, the party was chaos. bass rattling the floors, red and blue strobe lights flashing, bodies pressed together on the dance floor. the smell of sweat and liquor hit you hard, but it only added to the adrenaline thrumming through your veins.
you’d barely made it past the foyer when your eyes snagged on them.
sukuna and his crew.
five men, all dressed as cops, standing like they owned the place. geto leaned against the wall with his usual easy grin, toji’s shirt was open halfway down his chest, nanami looked like he’d rather be anywhere else but still managed to look devastating in a tie and holster. and then there was gojo, sunglasses on indoors, spinning a pair of fake handcuffs around his finger like a game.
but your gaze stopped on sukuna.
broad shoulders filling out the tight shirt, sleeves rolled high to show his tattooed arms. the tie hung loose around his neck, fake badge clipped to his belt like a dare, cuffs swinging from his belt loop. the low light caught on the sharp lines of his jaw, the gleam of his piercings.
he looked ridiculous. he looked stupid.
he looked so fucking good your stomach flipped.
you swallowed hard, forcing your attention back to yuki, who was already pulling you toward the kitchen for shots.
“don’t stare,” she hissed in your ear, grinning as she leaned close. “you’ll make it obvious.”
“i wasn’t staring,” you lied, voice too quick.
but your pulse betrayed you, hammering in your throat. because when you glanced back over your shoulder, just for a second, you found sukuna’s eyes already locked on you across the room. sharp, dangerous, like he’d been waiting for you to walk through the door.
"fuck me."
...
after the two of you found some drinks to hurl down, you started looking to see if the rest of your little family had found eachother and settled down.
you and yuki squeezed through the crush of bodies until you finally spotted the rest of the group posted up near the back wall, a little island in the sea of dancers. geto and toji had already claimed the couch, drinks in hand, while nanami stood like a chaperone, arms crossed as though he’d been dragged here against his will. maki leaned against the armrest, smirking at something mei mei was saying, and shoko sat on the edge with her red cup half empty, cigarette dangling from her lips despite the no smoking inside sign taped to the wall.
“there they are!” gojo’s voice cut above the bass as he spotted you. his grin split wide as he waved dramatically, shoving through his own friends just to reach you.
before you could brace yourself, his arm was around your waist and he was spinning you once in a wide circle, your skirt flashing dangerously as you squealed.
“would you look at this little bandit,” gojo drawled, setting you back on your feet with a flourish. he tipped his shades down just enough to let his piercing eyes sweep over you. “damn, y/n, i might need to frisk you. you hiding stolen goods under this outfit or what?”
you laughed, swatting his chest, though your face burned at the heat of his attention. “oh my god, gojo, you’re impossible.”
“impossibly charming, you mean,” he shot back, winking. “you’re killing it. best robber here, hands down.”
yuki, ever the wingwoman, clinked her cup against yours. “i told her! slutty theme parties are her natural habitat.”
“and thank god for it,” gojo said smoothly, giving you another twirl just because he could. “whole room just got brighter.”
the group groaned collectively, throwing half-hearted insults. 'attention who're', 'shut the fuck up', 'you sound like a game show host'. but the easy rhythm of it made you smile.
everyone was here. everyone except...
you felt it before you saw it. that heavy weight of eyes on you, somewhere in the crowd.
but when you glanced up, sukuna wasn’t looking.
he stood a little apart from the group, towering in his makeshift cop getup, a red cup balanced lazily in his tattooed hand. his gaze was fixed firmly on shoko, his posture so pointedly casual it almost screamed 'don’t look at her, don’t look at her, don’t look at her.'
“you still smoking inside like a delinquent?” he asked shoko, nodding toward the cigarette between her fingers. his voice was gravelly but low, like he was forcing it steady.
shoko exhaled a thin stream of smoke, smirking up at him. “better than choking on cheap vape clouds like the rest of these kids.”
he huffed something that might’ve been a laugh, leaning closer as she offered the cig out. he took it, more for something to do with his hands than anything else, and inhaled deeply.
but even as he tried to keep the conversation alive, asking shoko about the hospital, about classes, about anything, he couldn’t help the flicker of his gaze. quick, sharp, always snapping back to you before he dragged it away again.
because no amount of nicotine or small talk could drown out the image of you twirling under gojo’s arm, skirt riding high, smile wide enough to split his chest open.
and he hated it.
hated how his pulse wouldn’t slow down. hated how the sound of your laugh cut through everything else in the room. hated how no matter how hard he tried to look away, he still saw you.
"you need to fuck a new chick, badly." geto interrupted, seeing how his friend kept trying not to look at you. shoko laughed in agreement, and for a second, he considered it.
maybe this is what he needed, a new distraction. if you could find new meat so easily, he could too, right?
“yeah,” sukuna muttered, passing the cigarette back to shoko, jaw tight. “maybe you’re right.”
geto smirked, stretching out on the couch like he’d just solved world hunger. “of course i’m right. look at you, man. you’re starving. been months and you’re still walking around like a dog in heat without an owner. get some new pussy, clear your head. easy fix.”
shoko flicked ash into an empty cup, lips quirking. “it’s either that or therapy. and you’re definitely too stubborn for therapy.”
sukuna barked out a dry laugh. “fuck therapy.”
but even as he said it, his eyes betrayed him. skimming back to where you stood with yuki and gojo, head tilted back as you knocked back a shot. the way you licked the lime wedge after had his teeth grinding.
fuck.
a distraction. that was all he needed. someone hot, someone loud, someone he could press up against a wall until your face blurred out of his head. it was that simple.
so why the hell did every girl in the room look wrong?
his gaze swept over the crowd, the sorority girls in glittering cop hats, the random plus-ones grinding on the dance floor, and none of them sparked anything but disgust. too much perfume, too much fake laughter, too much not you.
“you’re thinking about it too hard,” geto said, watching him with a knowing grin. “gojo never thinks. that’s why he wins. just pick one, don’t even use your brain.”
“didn’t know i needed tips from that whore,” sukuna shot back, but his voice was distracted, restless.
shoko leaned her chin into her palm, smoke curling lazily from her lips. “i think you’re screwed, honestly. if it was that easy, you’d have done it by now.”
her words sank like a stone. sukuna shifted, irritation prickling under his skin.
because she was right. he couldn’t. he hadn’t touched anyone since you walked out, not really. not because he hadn’t had the chance, he’d turned down more offers than he could count, but because every time, the thought made him sick.
and now here you were, laughing with your friends in a skirt that barely covered your ass, twirling for gojo like you hadn’t ever twirled for him, and he was supposed to… what? pull some random girl into his lap and pretend it didn’t feel like swallowing glass?
he barely made it ten steps before the opportunity presented itself.
“hey, officer.”
a mousy girl in a sequined tube top and plastic cat ears blocked his path, grinning like she’d been waiting all night for him to notice her. her hand landed on his forearm, nails painted black, and she leaned in close, voice syrupy over the music. “you here to arrest me?”
normally, sukuna would’ve sneered, brushed her off. but geto’s words echoed in his head. 'just pick one, don’t even use your brain.' and behind her, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of you. still standing with gojo, laughing at something yuki said, your whole body lit up like you hadn’t spent a year pressed against his chest.
so he smirked, sharp and mean, and tilted his head down toward the brunette. “yeah. hands behind your back, sweetheart.”
she giggled, delighted, and pressed up against him. the smell of her perfume was sharp, chemical, nothing like you. but he let her hook her fingers through the belt loop of his pants, let her drag him a step toward the wall.
“you’re hot,” she breathed, brushing her lips against his ear.
“i know,” he muttered, dead-eyed, already bored.
she didn’t notice. she was too busy pressing her mouth to his jaw, messy and eager, while he stood there like a statue. his eyes flicked past her shoulder, once, twice, again, searching.
and there you were.
your gaze had snapped toward him the second the girl touched him. and though you looked away just as quickly, he saw the flash of something in your eyes.
anger? jealousy? disgust? whatever it was, it made his pulse spike.
so he slid a heavy hand to the girl’s hip, tugging her closer like she was the only thing on his mind. her laugh rang out too high, too fake. he smirked down at her, but the expression never reached his eyes.
because no matter how hard he tried, the girl in his arms wasn’t you.
and he hated himself for pretending.
~
meanwhile...
so far, the night was a blur of flashing lights and spilled drinks.
yuki chugging down shots with you, guys ogling your swaying shifting form, you were having a blast despite the gloomy, looming energy radiating off some corner of the room.
you had assumed it was just a group of jealous girls picking apart your choice of costume, so you ignored it. well, for as long as your conscience let you. not being able to ignore the feeling that something was off, you shifted your gaze towards the back corner of the common area, and everything slowed when you spotted him.
sukuna.
your stomach dropped. he wasn’t just standing there with a drink, arms crossed, glowering like usual. no, he had a girl pressed up against him, her sparkly little top straining as she tilted her mouth up to his jaw, fingers hooked in his belt loops like she’d already claimed him.
your heart thudded once, hard, the shock freezing you in place. because ever since the breakup, he hadn’t touched anyone. not at mixers, not at ragers, not even at the bar. it was the one thing you’d been able to count on, his stupid, stubborn loyalty, even when he swore he hated you.
and now? now he had some random girl pawing at him like he’d never even remembered your name.
“well, well,” gojo sang from beside you, leaning down to speak into your ear over the music. his grin was wide enough to split his face. “look at big bad sukuna finally dusting off the cobwebs. proud of him, honestly. he was wasting prime dick.”
your mouth went dry. you forced a laugh, quick and brittle, and raised your cup in mock toast. “prime dick huh? yeah. good for him.”
but inside, something ugly twisted.
fine. he wanted to play games? two could play. hell, you’d go one better.
your gaze flicked across the room, landing on the couch where toji sat like a king holding court, cigarette smoldering between his fingers. his shirt was open halfway down, chest gleaming with sweat, heavy muscles flexing every time he shifted. girls hovered nearby, orbiting like moths, but he wasn’t paying them any mind. just leaned back, lazy and dangerous, like he didn’t have to try.
your lips curved. perfect.
if sukuna thought pawing at some random sorority chick would get under your skin, you’d show him how it was really done.
you drained the rest of your drink, handed the cup off to yuki without a word, and straightened your skirt. your pulse was wild, reckless, but you shoved it down.
toji was his best friend, his brother in arms. you'd talked to toji the least in your little group, but you never ignored the looming stares he gave every time you'd pass by. if sukuna could use someone else to prove a point, so could you.
so with a toss of your hair and a sharp smile, you started toward the couch.
toji’s gaze found you before you even sat down. slow, deliberate, head tilting just a little as you slid into the empty spot beside him, legs crossing, skirt riding up.
“well, shit,” he drawled, smoke curling out from between his lips. “look who it is.”
you leaned closer, smile soft but your eyes sharp. “miss me? we haven't spoken in ages toji... we should catch up, don't cha' think?”
he huffed a laugh, low in his chest. god, you were a brat, always had been. and yeah, he knew what this was, he wasn’t that stupid. sukuna was ten feet away, smashing lips with some other girl for the first time in months while you leaned in close, smelling like sugar and vodka.
toji knew he should shut this down. tell you to run along, go dance with gojo, flirt with anyone else. but...
fuck, you were way too hot. can't blame a man for wanting a piece.
all bright eyes and glossy lips, looking up at him like he was the only guy in the room. and he’d never had much of a moral compass anyway. sukuna was his boy, sure, but it wasn’t like he’d ever sworn an oath. and you? you were sitting here practically begging for trouble.
his smirk tilted, lazy and sharp. “dangerous game, princess.”
“hmm?” you asked sweetly, though the way your hand rested on his thigh said otherwise.
toji’s jaw ticked. yeah, this was bad. but god, it felt good.
so when you leaned in just a fraction more, close enough that your perfume hit him like a sucker punch, he didn’t pull back. didn’t stop you when your lips brushed his.
and when you kissed him for real. slow at first, then hungrier, bolder, he gave in.
his hand slid to your waist, gripping tight. your mouth was hot, demanding, and he matched you without hesitation, biting back a groan as you pressed closer. the taste of you, the way you moved against him, it was fucking intoxicating.
yeah, it was wrong. yeah, sukuna would lose his shit. but right now? with your lips parting under his, your body melting against his, he couldn’t bring himself to care.
'fuck it.'
~
meanwhile...
she was laughing again. that high-pitched, shrill little laugh that grated at sukunas ears the second it left her throat. and the smell, god, the smell of her. sweet and cloying, like she’d bathed in a vat of dollar-store vanilla. it coated his tongue, sticky and nauseating, every time she pressed her mouth to his skin.
sukuna wanted to shove her off. wanted to wipe his jaw clean, scrub his clothes raw. but he didn’t. because he had told himself he needed this. needed to let go, to prove he wasn’t chained to you anymore. you were across the room, and he was here, with a warm body hanging off him, so technically, technically it should have been working.
except it wasn’t.
her hands wandered, tugging at his belt loops, smoothing over his chest, tracing the lines of ink on his arms as though she was entitled to them. he didn’t flinch, didn’t even react, just let her climb him like ivy while his thoughts couldn't help but wonder what you were doing right now. were you watching? did you even notice?
every nerve in his body lit up like a fuse, you were beautiful tonight. disgustingly beautiful. skirt short, top tight, hair and skin glowing under the lights. every inch of you screamed life, screamed warmth, screamed the very thing he couldn’t scrub out of himself no matter how hard he tried. you were always laughing, smiling, spinning under gojo’s hand earlier like it was easy for you. like what you had with him hadn’t cost you anything at all.
the girl in his arms pressed her lips to his neck, he forced himself not to recoil. his jaw locked, shoulders tight, and still he stood there letting her cling, letting her pretend, telling himself if he just pushed through long enough maybe his chest would quiet. maybe his blood would slow.
but then, his world stopped.
just like that.
because across the room, half-hidden by the haze of smoke and bodies, he saw you. not with gojo, not with yuki, not dancing with strangers. no. you were on the couch. on toji’s lap.
and you weren’t just sitting. you were leaning into him, mouth on his, hands on his broad chest like they’d belonged there all along.
sukuna couldn’t breathe. couldn’t move. every muscle locked up as though the sight had struck him down where he stood. his vision tunneled, narrowed until the only thing he saw was you, lips parting under toji’s, your body pressed to his, your fingers curling into the fabric of his open shirt.
a white-hot rage surged through him, searing and blinding. it was betrayal in its rawest form, jagged and consuming, ripping through his chest like claws.
toji, his best friend. the one person he would have sworn up and down would never cross that line.
and you.
you knew exactly what you were doing.
you knew what it would do to him, what it would mean. and you did it anyway.
his jaw clenched so hard it ached, teeth grinding as the weight of it sank in. because this wasn’t just petty. wasn’t just you flirting with some random to make him jealous. no, this was deliberate, calculated, cruel. this was you choosing the one man guaranteed to cut him the deepest.
the girl at his side whispered something in his ear, giggling again when he didn’t answer. her voice was static, nothing but noise. he couldn’t even hear her anymore. all his focus, all his fury, all his devastation was locked on the couch where you were tearing him apart in real time.
his blood boiled. fists curled at his sides, nails biting into his palms hard enough to sting. he wanted to march across the room, drag you off toji, tear the smirk off his friend’s face with his bare hands. he wanted to wreck everything. scream, break bottles, shatter bones.
the fury twisted, dark and ugly, dragging something else with it. hurt. raw and heavy, sitting in the pit of his stomach like lead. he’d never admit it out loud, never give you the satisfaction, but it was there. cutting deeper than any insult, any fight, any slammed door ever had.
you’d left him once. that had been bad enough.
but this? this was war.
the girl pawing at him tried to kiss him again, but he shoved her off, sudden and rough. she stumbled, blinking up at him, confusion flashing across her face.
“what the fuck?”
“get lost,” he snapped, voice low and venomous.
and she did, muttering under her breath as she disappeared into the crowd.
sukuna didn’t even watch her go, his gaze was already back on you. always on you.
toji’s hands were roaming. your mouth was on his neck. and sukuna had never in his life hated two people more in his entire fucking life.
he couldn't stop himself, he was hot in pursuit, fists clenched and eyes sharp. he was going to kill toji.
but, about four meters away from the man he was about to munt, an annoyingly strong arm cut him off mid strut.
"not worth it. just let someone else deal with this, ryo." calm and steady as ever, nanami. the blonde patted a grounding hand against sukunas back, trying his best to calm him. nanami wasn't stupid, sure he didn't care much for relationship drama but this was too common a topic in the frat for him not to be in the know. he had watched the scene unfold with satoru by his side, and the white haired boy insisted they interfered for 'the sake of brotherhood.'
before the tatted man could bark a complaint, he watched as gojo approached you and toji.
“whoa there, tiger.” gojo voiced, wide grin splitting his stupidly perfect face. he moved quick, arm sliding around your shoulders like he’d owned the right, tugging you off toji’s lap with a spin that made your skirt flare. “sweetheart, you really tryna start world war three or what? c’mon, dance with me instead.”
you laughed, startled but playing along as he twirled you once more, the sound sharp and sweet. it was lighthearted on the surface, but you caught the flash in his ice-blue eyes, he knew exactly what he was doing.
toji only leaned back into the couch, smirk lazy, arms spreading wide like he was washing his hands of the whole thing. “don’t look at me,” he drawled, taking a swig from his cup. “she came to me.” no apology, no shame as he locked eyes with ryomen.
sukuna saw red. his fists were clenched so tight his rings bit into his palms, body ready to lunge and put his 'friend' through the fucking wall.
but before he could move, another hand clapped down onto his shoulder.
“don’t,” geto said, voice low, calm but firm. his grip tightened when sukuna jerked against it. “not here. not like this.”
“get the fuck off me, both of you.” sukuna snarled under his breath, teeth bared.
“you’ll regret it,” geto warned, eyes steady. “you think you’re mad now? imagine swinging at your own boy in the middle of a packed house. everyone watching. you won’t come back from that.” nanami added.
sukuna’s jaw flexed, chest heaving, and for a moment it seemed like the choice teetered on a knife’s edge.
then shoko slid into the circle, cigarette dangling between her fingers, expression flat but voice sharp enough to cut. “jesus christ. you guys can’t go five minutes without turning everything into a soap opera, huh?” she flicked her ash, then hooked a hand into your arm, tugging you a little closer to her side. “save it for the walk home. no one wants to watch you two cocks fight right now.”
you glanced between them all, chest rising fast, pulse thudding in your ears. gojo was still grinning like it was all a game, spinning you out then back in just to keep you from slipping toward sukuna again. toji had already stretched out, arms draped along the back of the couch, watching the chaos unfold with that infuriatingly smug look.
and sukuna? god, sukuna. his glare burned holes through the room, every flicker of his eyes between you and toji a blade dragged across skin.
for a moment the music, the laughter, the drunken shrieks around you faded. the party was still going, but it was like the entire world had shrunk down to this standoff, everyone waiting to see if sukuna would finally break.
geto’s hand stayed heavy on his shoulder. shoko’s grip stayed firm on your wrist. gojo’s laugh rang loud enough to drown out the tension, but it didn’t erase it.
your chest was still hammering from gojo’s spin, the skirt of your outfit fluttering just a little more than you’d intended. your pulse hadn’t slowed since you caught sukuna’s glare, sharp and burning across the room. it was wild, magnetic, terrifying even, and for a split second you felt that familiar stab of…something you weren’t ready to name.
but then you remembered exactly what he’d done. the months of cold, the brooding silence, the subtle cruelty masked as “being stoic” or “protective.” all the nights you’d stayed up, worrying if he even gave a damn, the times he’d dismissed you, pushed you aside, screamed at you for nothing, treated your laughter like it was noise he couldn’t stomach. and that had been it.
so yes, maybe it was a little cruel to lean into toji like that. maybe it was petty, maybe it was messy, maybe it would make his blood boil, but really, who was this moment about? it wasn’t about toji. it was about him.
you let yourself grin, small but sharp, when you caught his glare again from the corner of your eye. his jaw was tight, fingers clenching, every ounce of his posture screaming “i want to obliterate everything in sight.” and yes, that made you feel a little…victorious.
guilt tugged at the back of your mind, that tiny voice whispering that this was mean, that maybe he didn’t deserve this much. but the louder, more insistent voice drowned it out, reminding you that he had set the rules for your relationship long ago: cold, distant, and impossible to reach when he didn’t feel like it. this? this was just returning the favor, a little taste of what it felt like to be ignored and dismissed.
you laughed softly, low enough that only gojo and you could hear it, and adjusted your position just a fraction, pressing a little closer to him without saying a word. it was a move, a message, a flicker of chaos sent straight in sukuna’s direction.
and yeah, maybe it was wrong. maybe it was reckless. but hell, if he couldn’t see how much he’d hurt you, if he couldn’t recognise how shitty he’d been, then this was…well, it was at least fair. maybe even satisfying.
your eyes flicked again toward sukuna. the way his chest rose and fell, the way his fists flexed, the tight line of his jaw…you felt a tiny thrill, a jolt of power mixed with something darker, something almost…exciting. he looked dangerous. he always looked dangerous. but tonight, he looked like he was completely out of his element.
and for a moment, just a brief second, you let yourself enjoy it.
the music pulsed around you, lights flashing, bodies thrashing in the chaos, but for a heartbeat, it was just you and the sting of knowing sukuna was watching, burning, consumed by the very thing he’d tried to deny himself.
yeah. it was messy. it was petty. it was exactly what it needed to be, for now.
~
the walk back was a blur.
sukuna didn’t remember leaving, didn’t remember which poor bastard had the misfortune of being in his path when he shoved his way out the front door, didn’t even remember if he’d said goodbye to anyone. his knuckles were white around the straps of his jacket, jaw locked so tight his teeth ached.
that image, your lips on toji’s, your hands braced against his shoulders, skirt hiked up indecently high on his lap, kept looping like a glitch in his head. and worse than the picture was the sound. your laugh. light, breathless, spilling against the man’s mouth like you actually meant it.
he punched the brick wall outside the dorms, rings clanging loud against stone, pain flashing through his hand.
by the time he stormed into his room, the rage had curdled into something heavier, stickier. he paced, sharp strides back and forth, his boots scuffing the floor. too many thoughts, all jagged edges.
toji. the fucking snake. his brother. supposed to be ride-or-die, supposed to be the one guy he could count on to not stab him in the back. sukuna could still see his smug face, leaning back with that lazy grin, like he didn’t give a single fuck. “don’t look at me. she came to me.”
it made his skin crawl. made his blood boil.
but then there was you. and that was the part that burned worst of all.
he wanted to hate you for it. wanted to file you away under traitor and slut and done. but he couldn’t. no matter how many times he spat curses under his breath, no matter how many scenarios he played out in his head where he wrote you off, he kept circling back to the truth.
you had him. still.
he collapsed onto his bed with a grunt, palms dragging down his face, the rings cutting into skin. the ceiling blurred, vision clouded by rage, by exhaustion, by this pathetic ache in his chest.
why the fuck did it feel like betrayal when you weren’t his to betray anymore? you weren’t his anything. not for five months. not since you slammed the door and told him to rot in hell.
and yet, the second you smiled at another man, the second you sat on his best friend’s lap, sukuna felt like he’d been gutted.
“fuck,” he muttered, sitting up and reaching for the half-crushed pack of smokes on his nightstand. his hands were shaking too hard to light it at first, the flame flickering before catching. one drag, two, three, the burn did nothing to quiet his head.
because the real kicker, the worst part?
he’d tried. he had tried.
he let that girl at the party kiss him. let her wrap her sticky sweet perfume arms around his neck, let her giggle into his ear. and every second of it had been unbearable. her lip gloss tasted wrong. her laugh grated. even the way she touched him felt like sandpaper, cloying, empty.
he shoved her off faster than he meant to, muttering something about needing air, already disgusted with himself for even trying.
because it was never about finding someone new. it was always about finding you in someone else.
and you were un-fucking-replaceable.
he ashed into the tray and dragged in another lungful, exhale sharp through his nose. his reflection in the dark window caught his eye, tattoos twisting across his arms, face locked in a permanent scowl. he looked every bit the burnout you’d accused him of being.
“you’re nothing but a loser with tattoos to hide the fact you’ve got nothing going for you.”
he hated how the words still echoed. hated how sometimes, when he wasn’t paying attention, he almost believed you.
his fists clenched around the cigarette, ember dropping to the carpet. didn’t matter. didn’t matter what you thought. didn’t matter who you fucked, didn’t matter who you kissed.
…except it did. because it wasn’t just anyone tonight. it was toji.
sukuna’s head dropped into his hands, shoulders tight, pulse hammering in his throat. he wanted to break something. wanted to put his fist through drywall, through a mirror, through toji’s jaw.
but all he did was sit there, smoke curling around him, drowning in the taste of ash and regret.
because underneath all the anger, all the betrayal, all the venom, there was the raw, ugly truth.
he still loved you.
and that was the cruelest joke of all.
...
sometime, the next day.
the first thing you noticed when you cracked your eyes open was that the ceiling wasn’t yours. too plain, too white. the second thing was the arm draped heavy across your waist, warm and casual like it belonged there. your stomach lurched.
you twisted around, blinking against the sunlight bleeding through the blinds, only to be met with a mop of white hair and the annoyingly peaceful face attached to it.
“oh my god.” your voice came out rough. “gojo?”his eyes stayed closed, but a grin cracked across his face. “morning, sunshine.”
panic surged. “did we-"
his lashes flicked up, blue eyes glinting as he cut you off with a laugh. “god no. relax. not that i’d complain of course, but trust me sweetheart, i’d make sure you remembered.”
you groaned, shoving weakly at his chest. “you’re disgusting.”
"disgustingly handsome, yeah, i get that a lot,” he quipped, finally sitting up, shirtless and stretching like he hadn’t touched a drop last night. “don’t worry. your virtue’s safe with me.”
your hand pressed against your temple, the hangover making your brain feel two sizes too big. flashes of the party crept in through the fog. the heat of the room. the press of bodies. the taste of alcohol thick on your tongue. then sharper images, ones that twisted your stomach harder. sukuna’s glare. toji’s smirk. gojo’s arm yanking you away.
you sat up fast, the blanket pooling around your waist. “shit.”
gojo glanced over, grin fading. he leaned back against the headboard, watching you with an ease that didn’t quite match the sharp focus in his eyes now. “so, you remembered.”
you swallowed, throat dry. “i… yeah.”
“good.” the playful lilt was gone. his voice was flat, serious in a way that made you look at him. really look. “because you need to understand how bad that was.”
your chest tightened. “i didn’t- it wasn’t-”
"don’t.” he cut you off with a raised hand, the same way he’d stop a freshman from running their mouth during rush week. “don’t make excuses. you think sukuna deserved that? fine. maybe he did. but dragging toji into it?” he shook his head slowly. “that’s not payback. that’s a fucking grenade you dropped in the middle of your whole group.”
you chewed your lip, guilt bleeding through the alcohol fog.
gojo’s expression softened, but his words stayed sharp. “i’m not saying this to lecture you, y/n. i just… i’ve known him a long time. and i’ve never seen him look the way he did last night.” he paused, eyes narrowing slightly, like he was remembering it. “you fucked him up. bad.”
you hated the way your stomach sank. hated the way the guilt gnawed even though you wanted to argue. because deep down, you knew he was right.
gojo leaned forward, elbows on his knees, finally breaking the silence. “look, i don’t care if you two never get back together. that’s your business. but if you keep swinging at him like this, it’s gonna get ugly for everyone. you, him, the rest of us. and you don’t want that smoke, trust me.”
for once, his smile was gone. and it made the hangover sting worse.
you finally let yourself glance around the room, taking it in properly. it wasn’t frat row, wasn’t the buzzing chaos of the house. this was quieter, cleaner. off campus. the apartment walls were bare except for a half-hung poster and a leaning stack of records in the corner. a desk cluttered with papers and empty coffee cups sat opposite the bed.
you frowned. “this… isn’t your room.”
gojo followed your gaze, then smirked faintly. “well, not my main one, no. it’s my little getaway spot. i crash here when i want to actually hear myself think instead of drowning in beer pong and bad decisions.” he shrugged, stretching his long arms behind his head. “figured you needed that last night more than i did.”
the words landed heavier than you expected.
“so you...” you started, then stopped, voice a little small. “you brought me here?”
“yep. fireman-carried you out of the party like a damsel in distress. very heroic of me, by the way.” his grin was brief, then gone again, leaving the steel underneath. “but seriously. you were about three seconds from making a bigger mess than you already did. i wasn’t about to leave you in the middle of that shitstorm.”
your chest tightened. “i didn’t mean-”
“i know.” he cut you off again, this time gentler, though his eyes stayed sharp. “you were drunk. angry. hurt. whatever. doesn’t change the fact that everyone saw. sukuna saw. and that’s not the kind of thing you can walk back with a sorry.”
silence stretched. the faint hum of traffic outside the apartment window filled it.
gojo leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his voice softer now but still grounded. “i don’t care what happens between you and him. but i do care about the fallout. so if you’re gonna keep swinging at each other, do it somewhere private. not in the middle of our lives. not in front of everyone.”
for once, there was no teasing edge, no lazy grin. just the quiet weight of his words, settling heavy in the room.
'for fuck sake.'
~
meanwhile, elsewhere.
the iron clanged loud enough to rattle the whole basement. the frat’s gym wasn’t much, just a concrete room with racks, a few benches, and the sour stench of sweat and chalk, but it was empty and that’s all sukuna needed. headphones jammed in, hood up, he was burning through his anger with every rep, every push, every drop of sweat running down his inked skin.
he welcomed the ache in his chest, the burn in his arms, because at least it wasn’t last night playing on repeat. the sight of you in toji’s lap. the fucking smirk on toji’s face. the way gojo had to step in like a clown just to keep sukuna from breaking the place apart.
“motherfucker,” sukuna muttered under his breath, slamming the barbell back into the rack with a violent clang. his pulse was still running high, fury simmering under his skin no matter how many sets he pushed through.
he grabbed his water, took a swig, then stilled at the creak of the door swinging open.
and of course. of fucking course.
toji sauntered in like he owned the place, duffel bag slung over one shoulder, tank top clinging to his bulk. his eyes landed on sukuna immediately, lips curving slow into that familiar smug grin.
“look at that. didn’t know hell had a gym membership,” toji drawled, dropping his bag with a thud.
sukuna ripped his headphones out, jaw tight. “the fuck do you want.”
“same as you, i’d guess. pump some iron. sweat out the toxins.” toji stretched his arms overhead, every movement calculated laziness, like he knew exactly how much it would get under sukuna’s skin. “though from the look of you, you’ve already been here a while. what’s the matter, princess? can’t get last night off your mind?”
sukuna’s hands curled into fists at his sides, knuckles straining. “don’t start with me.”
“start?” toji laughed, a deep, rumbling sound as he wandered toward the dumbbell rack. “i’m not starting anything. you’re the one who looked about ready to tear my head off just for sitting there. can’t take a joke?”
“that wasn’t a fucking joke.” sukuna’s voice was low, dangerous.
toji bent down, grabbing a pair of heavy weights, swinging them up with easy strength. “sure felt like one to me. girl comes over, plants herself on me, i don’t exactly say no. what was i supposed to do, tell her sorry, ryomen’s feelings might get hurt? come on, you know me better than that.”
the words hit their mark, sharp and cutting. sukuna’s jaw clenched so tight it hurt, teeth grinding.
“you’re a fucking snake.”
“nah.” toji smirked, curling the weights with effortless control. “i’m just honest. you of all people should appreciate that.”
sukuna stepped closer, shadow falling over him. “you knew what the fuck you were doing.”
“and?” toji raised a brow, sweat already beading across his temple. “she wanted me. i wanted her. simple math, sukuna. not my fault if you can’t solve it.”
the air between them thickened, heavy with sweat and tension. sukuna’s pulse thundered in his ears, his chest rising and falling like he’d just run miles, not stood there vibrating with rage.
toji finally set the dumbbells down with a heavy thud, straightening to his full height, only inches separating them now. “tell you what. if you’re this worked up about it, maybe it’s not me you’re mad at. maybe it’s her.” his smirk curved wider. “or maybe it’s you. sitting around sulking, acting like she was supposed to stay single forever. what’d you expect, huh?”
sukuna snapped.
his fist connected with the locker behind toji’s head, metal denting under the blow, the sound a gunshot in the concrete room. he was breathing hard, eyes wild, every muscle in his body coiled like he was two seconds from planting that fist in toji’s face instead.
toji didn’t flinch. didn’t move. just looked at the ruined locker, then back at sukuna with that same insufferable calm. “there he is.” his voice was low, almost taunting. “there’s the sukuna everyone warns about.”
the silence stretched, sharp as a blade.
sukuna’s chest heaved, breath ragged, the rage boiling so hot under his skin he thought he might actually combust. his hand was bleeding, split open from the punch, but he barely felt it. all he saw was toji. the smugness, the betrayal, the ease with which he treated last night like it was nothing.
“get the fuck out,” sukuna growled, voice gravel, low and lethal.
toji leaned down, grabbing his bag again, smirk never slipping. “fine. but you should thank me, really. i did you a favor. showed you she’s not as untouchable as you think. might save you some pain later.”
and with that, he walked out, leaving sukuna standing there, blood dripping from his fist, heart hammering so hard it rattled his ribs.
the dented locker stared back at him, a reflection of the crack tearing straight through his chest.
he hated this strain, he needed a coffee.
~
you slipped your shoes on quietly, tugging your hoodie over your head as you glanced back at gojo still sprawled across the bed. his eyes were half-lidded, hair sticking up in every direction.
“heading out?” he asked, voice rough from sleep.
“yeah. back to my dorm,” you mumbled, trying to smooth your hair in the tiny mirror by his desk. “thanks… for last night."
his lips curved, lazy and knowing. “don’t mention it, sweetheart. though if you get the urge to kiss me as a thank-you gift, i wouldn’t complain.”
you rolled your eyes, but your chest softened just a little at the familiar tease. “goodbye, gojo.”
“bye, n/n.”
the door clicked shut behind you, leaving his quiet little off-campus apartment behind. the morning air bit at your skin, sharp and clean, dragging the fog of last night’s chaos out of your head. you needed caffeine like oxygen.
the walk wasn’t long, muscle memory guiding you toward the cart tucked on the corner of campus. your feet already knew the path; you and sukuna had walked it enough times together, hand in hand, him always grumbling about the line while you teased him for being impatient.
you shoved the thought down.
the line was only four people deep, sunlight pooling over the tables scattered nearby. you joined the queue, tugging your sleeves over your hands, rubbing at your temples.
and then you heard it. low, familiar, rasping in a way that was carved into your bones.
“large long black. extra shot. two sugars.”
your stomach dropped.
he was one person ahead of you.
sukuna.
you didn’t even need to look. you could have repeated his order word for word in your sleep, hell, you probably still could a decade from now.
but you did look. and the world lurched.
his shoulders were tense beneath his black hoodie, tattoos peeking up the side of his neck. his voice carried that sharpness it always had, but there was something quieter in it now. less bite. like the fight had bled out of him overnight, leaving only the exhaustion behind.
he stepped aside, moving to wait by the side of the cart, hands stuffed into his pockets. his posture screamed frustration, restlessness, like he couldn’t stand still but didn’t know where else to go.
you froze, every nerve in your body pulling taut.
when his gaze finally lifted, it snagged on yours instantly, like it had been searching even if he hadn’t meant it to.
and that was it.
the air snapped, the sounds of the cart, the chatter of the students, the hiss of the espresso machine, all of it fell away. it was just him. you. too close, too raw, too soon.
you hadn’t been this near to him since everything went to hell. since you’d stopped hearing his voice in the morning, stopped laughing at how he bitched about the line every single time, stopped brushing your hand against his as you both reached for the sugar packets.
memories crowded in fast and merciless. his thumb brushing coffee foam from your lip. your head against his shoulder while you waited for your orders. his laugh, sharp and warm, when you always stole the first sip of his drink even though it was bitter as hell.
your chest constricted so hard it almost hurt.
his eyes didn’t waver. sharp as ever, but undercut by something else. something hollow.
you stiffened, swallowing down the lump that rose, suddenly aware of the half-step of space between you and the last piece of your routine that used to feel like home.
“uh, hi. what can I get for you?”
the voice sliced through the haze like a bell. you blinked, stepping back from the trance you’d fallen into, and realized the cart owner was leaning forward, pen poised, a small smile on their face.
“oh! uh, yeah,” you stammered, suddenly aware of your hands fidgeting in the sleeves of your hoodie. “a caramel latte. large. please.”
the owner nodded and scribbled it down, glancing between you and sukuna without comment, though you could feel their subtle curiosity.
you stepped aside to the marked waiting area, trying to ignore him. ignore him, you told yourself, but the universe apparently had other plans. you ended up standing just a few feet from him, off to the side so you weren’t shoulder-to-shoulder, but close enough that every movement he made, every slight twitch of his fingers, felt amplified.
he didn’t speak. you didn’t speak.
and yet, somehow, the silence between you was loud.
you could hear the faint rustle of his hoodie against his arms as he shifted weight from one foot to the other. you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw flexed subtly, like he was fighting something he couldn’t quite name.
your stomach twisted, part guilt, part nostalgia, part something sharper that you refused to name aloud.
the line moved slowly. espresso machine hissed, milk steamed, sugar packets rattled. each sound was a hammer against the fragile bubble of quiet you’d stepped into, each one a reminder of how close you were to someone who had once been the center of your mornings, your routines, your little rituals.
and yet, you didn’t move. didn’t turn away. didn’t run.
you could feel his gaze brush over you occasionally, hesitant but deliberate. for a fleeting moment, it caught yours, just enough that your chest caught in a way that made waiting for coffee feel like waiting for a verdict.
the awkwardness stretched, delicate and heavy, both of you standing there, caught in the memory of mornings that were once ordinary and now felt impossible to recreate.
and then the cart owner called out, breaking the spell.
“caramel latte! large!”
you stepped forward to grab it, fumbling slightly as you held it, aware that he had his usual long black in hand now, ordered and waiting just a few steps away.
you both stood there in quiet, coffee between you, unspoken words pooling in the air like steam rising from your cups.
he was there, a few feet away, his black hoodie pulled low over his shoulders, tattoos brushing the edge of his neck, hands wrapped around the cup he ordered as if it were a shield. the faint crease at the corner of his mouth, the tense line of his jaw, it was all him.
he looked slightly dejected, not in a way that made you feel relief, but in a way that dug into your chest like a knife. there was no pretense in the slump of his shoulders, no swagger to mask what he felt. just him, in the morning light, like the party and the chaos and the revenge-fueled games you’d both been playing hadn’t even happened, except it had, and it was written all over him.he was still the same. and somehow, you still remembered every detail.
you tried to ground yourself, reminded yourself that last night had changed everything. the games, the flirting, the petty vengeance, it was supposed to be over. you weren’t supposed to care about him standing here, waiting like this, coffee in hand, looking like he hadn’t slept either.
and yet, your eyes kept drifting to him.
he was doing the same. you could feel it without looking. the slight turn of his head, the tension in his posture, the way his gaze flicked over you and away, only to return again, sharper this time, caught mid-thought. he wasn’t pretending either. there was no bravado, no mask of indifference. he was trying not to look at you, but failing spectacularly.
it hit harder than you expected.
he was right there. so close. closer than he had been in months. and yet, he looked as untouchable as ever, calm on the surface, chaotic underneath.
you wondered if he could feel it too, the pull, the memory, the residual ache of what you both had lost and still clung to. the things you’d said, the fights, the breakups, the stupid pride that neither of you could quite relinquish.
he raised the cup of coffee slightly, as if offering it to the world, but it wasn’t for you. not yet. just a casual sip, just enough to remind him that this was ordinary, this was mundane, and yet it was charged with every unspoken word neither of you dared voice.
the line moved slowly, painfully, but you didn’t step away. you couldn’t. your latte steamed in your hands, your fingers tightening around the cup, and you realized the truth. even standing here, even with all the awkward distance between you, even with months of resentment and games and revenge lurking just below the surface, you were still tethered to him.
and he to you.
neither of you spoke. neither moved closer. the air between you was a weight, electric and unbearable. people passed by, oblivious, but for you, the world had contracted to this narrow strip of asphalt, this tiny coffee cart, this impossible proximity to someone who had once been your everything.
you sipped the caramel latte again, slower this time, letting the taste ground you, while stealing glances at him, cataloging him like a memory you weren’t ready to let go of.
he adjusted the hood of his hoodie, ran a hand through his dark hair, and for a second, just looked at you. really looked at you. the corners of his eyes softened slightly, the edge in his jaw relaxing only a fraction. it was almost imperceptible, but it hit you harder than anything else had in months.
and just like that, the world snapped back. the cart owner called out the next order, footsteps shuffled, the line inched forward, and the delicate, fragile bubble of tension hovered between you, waiting. waiting for one of you to speak, to break, to act, to ruin it or reclaim it.
'fuck you,' he thinks. 'i hate you, i love you, i want to kiss you until the taste of you eclipses all that pain from last night.'
you’re here. right here. the line barely separates you, but god, it might as well be nothing. your hair is catching the sunlight just right. your eyes, he swears he can see straight through the sarcasm and the smirk you’re probably hiding behind, are bright, sharp, infuriating, intoxicating.
he hates this. he hates that he wants it. he hates that his body remembers yours better than his brain can rationalize. he hates that the coffee in his hand suddenly feels heavy, like a prop in some cruel cosmic joke.
'fuck it.' he thinks. might as well try. might as well let a piece of this anger turn into something else. something close, something tangible. if he’s going to suffer in silence, he might as well try to taste it while he can.
he shifts, subtly, bringing his shoulder just a fraction closer. he imagines brushing past you, maybe your hands accidentally touch. maybe he can catch your wrist under the guise of some stupid gesture, maybe he can, he snaps himself back mentally. don’t be stupid. keep it casual. act normal. act like you’re just another person in the line.
but normal is impossible.
because your eyes flick down, almost imperceptibly, and he sees the pause in your expression. and then you speak.
“uh… your knuckles,” you say softly, pointing almost instinctively. “are they… sore?”
the world narrows to the way you say it, the tilt of your head, the concern barely hiding behind that light teasing tone. he wants to snap, wants to bark “none of your business,” wants to shove the latte across your chest and run. instead, he does something he rarely allows himself: he relaxes slightly. just enough.
“yeah,” he mutters, voice clipped, trying to sound casual, but the tension in his shoulders betrays him. he doesn’t want to tell you. doesn’t want to admit that last night still eats at him. that you on toji’s lap, the way he lost control, the sheer infuriating perfection of your smile, it all still stings.
but he can’t hide the small truth: he punched a locker this morning. his knuckles are raw, cut, angry.
you frown, step a fraction closer, and he feels it. the pull, that gravity he’s spent months denying.
“did you punch something?” you ask, hesitant. your eyes flit to his hands again, then back to his face. “was it… bad?”
he grits his teeth, rubbing at his palm, letting a fraction of his anger bleed out. “this morning,” he says, deliberately vague, letting the words hang. “had a… rough start.”
and that’s it. he doesn’t tell you about the shitstorm that led up to it, about toji, about the tension that still smells like betrayal and lust and every stupid thing you two used to mean to each other. he leaves out the jealousy. leaves out the furious heartbeat, the thoughts of your lips on someone else. leaves out everything that would make him vulnerable.
you nod slowly, glancing at the jagged skin, flinching slightly. “you okay?”
he snorts, more bitter than amused. “yeah. fine. coffee helps."
and yet, under the tight muscles and the mask of indifference, he’s already calculating. if the universe is going to throw you this close, maybe he’ll take a gamble. maybe he’ll let this proximity be a little dangerous, let a little fire burn between you two again, even if it’s toxic. even if it hurts. even if every argument and screaming match was still fresh in his mind.
because being near you, even for a moment, even for a few breaths, feels better than anything he’s done all morning.
and he hates that he knows it.
he stands there, coffee in hand, and you notice every detail. the bruised knuckles, the tense muscles, the sharp edges of his jaw that never soften, even when he smiles. it hits you like a punch you weren’t ready for.
you see him, the man who used to make your chest ache with how much you wanted him, the man whose arms held you with an ease and possessiveness that once felt like home. now every line of his face, every shadow beneath his eyes, shows the things you ignored for so long. the fights, the cold silences, the way he shut you out when all you wanted was to be close. you remember the times he snapped at you over nothing, the way he belittled you, the anger always just under the surface. and it hits you. this wasn’t petty arguments, it was him failing you. it was borderline cruel and it should have been enough to leave him behind.
your stomach twists with guilt. you shouldn’t have gone to the party, your revenge was childish, every little thing you did last night added to the chaos instead of fixing anything. you were part of the problem too. you realize you can’t tell which is worse: what he did or how much you wanted to punish him.
he feels the same. he sees you, the way your hair falls over your shoulder, the curve of your smile even when your lips press tight, the way your eyes shine with a mix of mischief and guilt. it eats him alive. he wants to reach out, pull you into his arms, apologize for everything, for the way he treated you, for letting his temper become a weapon against the person he supposedly loved. he hates himself for it, hates that pride and rage outweighed the person who trusted him.
he exhales sharply. “i'm sorry y/n. i screwed up, okay? more than i can even admit to. i... i was angry, all the fucking time. i made everything about me, about my pride, about my stupid ego. i pushed you to the edge, y/n. i yelled, i snapped, i… i was borderline abusive. i know that.” his hands clench, voice roughening, “i let my temper hurt the person i was supposed to protect. the person i was supposed to love the most. i hated myself every second i did it.”
his chest tightens and every heartbeat felt like an accusation. he remembers nights when his words hurt more than he intended, nights he left you crying in silence, nights he made you doubt yourself. he thinks about last night and how petty revenge would have been satisfying if not for the lingering love he still feels. the knowledge that he hurt you, that he scared you, that he pushed you away when he should have held you close, claws at him. he has never felt so guilty, so exposed.
you are both silent, but the air between you is charged with everything neither of you said when it mattered most. then your gaze flickers over him, really seeing him, and your breath catches. despite everything, he is stunning. the way he carries himself, rough edges and all, makes your pulse spike. he sees you too, and the memories hit like a tidal wave. the way your eyes sparkled in the sun, the tilt of your head when you laughed, the curve of your lips, the confidence that made him ache with longing. even with the resentment and anger, he cannot deny it: you are still breathtaking.
you speak first, voice steady. “i’m sorry too, ryo. for last night... for everything. i shouldn’t have done that to you. especially since i knew how it would effect you. i shouldn’t have done it... i'm so sorry....” your eyes meet his, unwavering.
he swallows and meets your gaze fully, jaw flexing. “don't think you were the whole issue okay... i know how fucking cruel i was, i deserved some sort of jab back.”
for a beat, neither of you moves, the words heavy in the air. then, simultaneously, you both whisper it together, “i’m sorry.”
for the first time in what feels like forever, it is not empty. it is not polite. it is not something said to keep the peace. it is raw, messy, and true. it is the acknowledgment of every wound, every misstep, every night spent angry at each other instead of in each other’s arms.
the silence that follows is different now. lighter, tentative, fragile, but full of promise. hearing each other admit the truth, seeing the hurt and the beauty and the love that still exists, it is a start.
𐙚. total ass guy; This man cannot go five seconds without smacking the Mario coins out of your ass. Literally. You’d think he was winding his arm back like a baseball pitch the way it stings for a solid five minutes—but nope, he’s just heavy-handed as hell. God forbid you walk around the penthouse in shorts or tights. That’s an open invitation for him to make you jump like a cartoon character.
𐙚. never lets you see the receipt/price tag on something you wanna buy; He never lets you see the receipt, ever. You’d think shopping was a heist with how you try to sneak a peek at the price tag before he catches you. If you do manage to see it, he’ll pinch your cheeks like you’re five and hit you with a “Why you looking?”—before buying it for you in two colors and telling the associate to wrap it up “real pretty.”
𐙚. surprisingly knows about nails; You made a joke once, asking whether you should get a red-bottom stiletto or a pink glittery coffin set. He didn’t even blink—just gave you a look and went: “Red bottom. Square. With rhinestones. Don’t play with me. There’s already cash in your purse.”
…Sir????
𐙚. lowkey sassy asf; While Ryo usually lets his judgment show through an unimpressed side-eye or a scoff, sometimes… sometimes you get the pleasure of hearing him be downright sassy.
𐙚 “The fuck are you talking about? That shit is ugly.”
𐙚 “That was your ex? Did he sneak onto earth?”
𐙚 You have to walk away before he sees you wheezing.
𐙚. throws you over his shoulder when you have an attitude; It’s instinct at this point. You raise your voice, roll your eyes, stomp away—boom, you’re upside down. He’s walking around like it’s nothing while you’re kicking and yelling “PUT ME DOWN.” He won’t. He’s chuckling. Slaps your ass mid-walk too. “Talk crazy again. I dare you.”
𐙚. doesn’t like sharing food—except with you; He’ll side-eye anyone who asks for a fry, but you? You can literally eat off his plate and he won’t say a word. He’ll just flick your forehead and go, “You’re lucky you’re cute brat.” Bonus points if you feed him too. He’ll open his mouth lazily and say, “Hurry up, I’m not tryna be romantic, I’m tryna eat.”
𐙚. acts like you’re so annoying but lowkey worships the ground you walk on; He’ll be like “Why are you so needy?” while simultaneously wrapping you in a blanket, giving you a foot massage, and ordering your favorite food without being asked. Literally complains while doing everything for you.
𐙚. randomly flexes how strong he is; Opens jars with one hand. Lifts the whole couch just to get your phone. Carries all the groceries without breaking a sweat. Smirks every time you’re like “Goddamn, okay.”
“Keep looking like that and I’ll show you what else I can carry.”
𐙚. so, so handsy; Not even just sexual—he always has to be touching you. Hand around your neck while you sit on his lap. Thumb brushing your thigh in the car. Rubbing slow circles into your back while you sleep. And yes, he still slaps your ass every time you walk past.
“Don’t act surprised. You knew what this was.”
𐙚. calls you a menace daily—but he’s in love.
- “You’re a headache in heels.”
- “You cause me stress and I like it. That’s the problem.”
- “I should’ve left you in that dressing room when you said ‘I only want one thing’ and - pointed at the whole store.”
- But he never leaves. He never would. You’re his favorite chaos.
Hello, my name is Rola, and I am a mother of two children living in the Gaza Strip. Our lives were once filled with love, laughter, and dreams for the future. But everything changed on October 7th, when the war shattered not only our home but our entire world.
That morning, my family and I were enjoying coffee together on the balcony. Out of nowhere, an explosion erupted, shaking our home violently. My husband and son ran for cover, falling over each other in panic, while I stood frozen, still holding my cup, unable to process the chaos around me. When I looked out the window, I saw that our neighbor’s house, once filled with life, had been reduced to rubble. Ambulances rushed to the scene as people scrambled to rescue the injured and pull bodies from the debris.
The bombings didn’t stop. At night, the rain poured heavily, and the cold seeped into our bones. I stayed awake, covering my children to keep them warm and praying for their safety. But safety is an illusion here. Another explosion shattered the night, and our neighbors’ home was destroyed. Their children, who had been sleeping peacefully under a blanket, were found lifeless, their cover soaked in blood.
I looked at my children with tears in my eyes and thought, How can I protect you? We had to flee our home with nothing but the clothes on our backs. We left behind my children’s toys, their clothes, and their beautiful bedroom. Everything we had worked so hard to build is gone.
Our Current Reality
Now, we are displaced and living in a nightmare. Food is scarce, and prices are unimaginably high—$10 for a kilo of sugar! The fear of death hangs over us constantly. My children deserve a life of joy and hope, not one defined by fear and loss. Why can’t we live like everyone else—go to work, visit family, and watch our children play in safety? Why do our children have to grow up surrounded by death and destruction?
How You Can Help
I am pleading for your kindness to help us rebuild our lives. We need your support to:
💔 Rebuild our home, so my children can feel safe again.
🌍 Evacuate from Gaza, seeking a future where my family can live with dignity.
🩺 Provide urgent medical care for my children, who need protection from this nightmare.
Even the smallest donation can make a difference. If you can’t donate, please share my story. Every share brings us closer to hope.
What Your Support Means
Your kindness is not just about helping us survive; it’s about giving us a chance to dream again. To rebuild what we’ve lost and to ensure my children have a future filled with possibilities, not fear.
Thank you for taking the time to read my story. Your support means the world to us. Let’s work together to rebuild hope, one step at a time.
🌸 Please share our story and consider donating today. 🌸
Hi I am Fatima and live in London UK. I have known Rola now for appr… Fatima Rajwani needs your support for From Despair to Hope: Help us to
wELP— my mask of giving love anonymously was revealed by a quiz… wait who said that 🤨 and why did you reread again?
@wolfica ,, @naomi-the-scrivener ,, @darkvioletwonderland ,, @slvttyplum ,, @tsuki-no-yomi-project ,, @hentaihottee ,, @nayahswrldxo ,, @theheirofthesharingan —again? yes we love u—,, and anyone who wants to do it!
catch of breath, choke, gulp, heave, inhale, pant, puff, snort, wheeze, huff, rasp, sharp intake of air, short of breath, struggle for breath, swallow, winded
"Waa why aren't fandoms fun anymore" because you keep policing people's headcanons, make fun of cosplayers,make fun of selfshipers, make fun of beginner artists and just make fun of people for having fun 😐
origamiaround
tangentwithtanner
prguitarman
dededos
dailybridgerton
kianamaiart
2087
