Temples Are Built For Gods. Knowing This A Farmer Builds A Small Temple To See What Kind Of God Turns

Temples are built for gods. Knowing this a farmer builds a small temple to see what kind of god turns up.

WEBSITES FOR WRITERS {masterpost}

E.A. Deverell - FREE worksheets (characters, world building, narrator, etc.) and paid courses;

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BetaBooks - Share your draft with your beta reader (can be more than one), and see where they stopped reading, their comments, etc.;

Charlotte Dillon - Research links;

Writing realistic injuries - The title is pretty self-explanatory: while writing about an injury, take a look at this useful website;

One Stop for Writers - You guys... this website has literally everything we need: a) Description thesaurus collection, b) Character builder, c) Story maps, d) Scene maps & timelines, e) World building surveys, f) Worksheets, f) Tutorials, and much more! Although it has a paid plan ($90/year | $50/6 months | $9/month), you can still get a 2-week FREE trial;

One Stop for Writers Roadmap - It has many tips for you, divided into three different topics: a) How to plan a story, b) How to write a story, c) How to revise a story. The best thing about this? It's FREE!

Story Structure Database - The Story Structure Database is an archive of books and movies, recording all their major plot points;

National Centre for Writing - FREE worksheets and writing courses. Has also paid courses;

Penguin Random House - Has some writing contests and great opportunities;

Crime Reads - Get inspired before writing a crime scene;

The Creative Academy for Writers - "Writers helping writers along every step of the path to publication." It's FREE and has ZOOM writing rooms;

Reedsy - "A trusted place to learn how to successfully publish your book" It has many tips, and tools (generators), contests, prompts lists, etc. FREE;

QueryTracker - Find agents for your books (personally, I've never used this before, but I thought I should feature it here);

Pacemaker - Track your goals (example: Write 50K words - then, everytime you write, you track the number of the words, and it will make a graphic for you with your progress). It's FREE but has a paid plan;

Save the Cat! - The blog of the most known storytelling method. You can find posts, sheets, a software (student discount - 70%), and other things;

I hope this is helpful for you!

(Also, check my gumroad store if you want to!)

79K notes View Post

grapesandraisins

1 month ago

Baby You're a Star

Art in the banner by Kerravi on x!

Pairings- Pornstar Satoru x shy f!reader

Warnings- mentions of sex and sexwork, masturbation (M and f) back shots, threesomes on set w/ Suguru and Sukuna, cum drinking, weed smoking, drinking, lots of longing, pining, obsessive, he can't get hard if it's not you, whipped ass Satoru because that's how I NEED HIM, a lot of mentions of sex, cum, etc- it's about porn so lol. A lil bit of angsttt, a lil bit of cuteness, demisexual reader, hoe Satoru what a pair.

Summary- You meet Satoru Gojo at a wild Hollywood part, insanely out of place, waiting for your friend to show up. The two of you hit it off, spending time together, and share a kiss, but you're a good girl, and you just don't do this, but he is the top pornstar there is, and the top .01 % on OnlyFans. Once you find out, you know there's probably no match, as Satoru doesn't date, and you don't sleep around, but after meeting, you keep in touch- and soon Satoru can't get hard without thinking of you, and you get over curious, and join a livestream of the boy you like. Just how will that go for you both!? WC 10k!

Based on Pornstar Satoru- Playlist- Chapter Two (coming soon)

Chapter One

Satoru Gojo was one of the most famous pornstars there are, and the baddie arched right in front of him, sucking on one of the other most famous stars’ cock - Satoru’s best friend Suguru Geto - shows exactly why he is. When he slams his latex covered cock so deep inside her she screams, squirting all down his cock while she chokes down Suguru…

That’s not just for the camera.

Satoru knows every spot on his co-stars, shouldn’t it be fun for them too? He never would let a single one of them not cum several times, hence the long, long line and insane demand he has. The amount of onlyfans collab requests he gets, along with shoot after shoot, he has to be extremely picky, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t eat up how desired he was.

Even now, he winks right into the camera, knowing how many people were watching this livestream, gripping his costar’s hips and slamming his cock so deep, while Suguru is gripping her face delicately, moaning. Blue eyes and violet eyes meet the camera, dual smirks while they make this girl shatter for them, until they know it’s time for the money shot.

She’s eagerly on her knees, at the most perfect angle in the room they use as a stage, fully lit with pro lighting, and the comments and tips from this livestream are going insane, all while she looks up at both of them. Satoru takes off his condom, while she strokes him, sucking his cock and then Suguru’s, so huge and heavy, though Satoru loves to brag that he’s just a little longer, and Suguru brags he’s thicker.

They love competing, including who cums more, both of them moaning, though Satoru is a little more occupied with how good his abs look in the camera, fuck they’re glistening really, as she starts jerking them off now with practiced hands. Suguru looks at Satoru then, brushing back dark locks.

“I’m gonna cum way more than you this time.” He murmurs, so that the camera’s couldn’t hear, but the girl stroking them giggles a bit, clearly fucked out.

Satoru stretches his arms up, folding them behind his head, as the strokes get faster, as she laps up his milky precum from his perfect pink tip. “Nah, no way, I will this time.”

“So competitive, hmm?” She says, drawing their attention, then she hits that twist just right, and Satoru and Suguru are cumming all over her eager face, her hands, her open mouth, shooting milky ropes and groaning out.

Satoru gets paid to cum on pretty girls faces, and he gets paid a lot, with his best fucking friend - just how do you beat that? He grins as the livestream is popping off, and Suguru is delicate in swiping their cum all over her for one more money shot, Satoru leans over, stroking himself right on camera once more, to the many happy tips and replies of all his fans.

“And that’s a wrap.” Satoru’s cocky voice follows a click, as he takes in just how much they made, whistling. “Goddamn, we should celebrate.”

“Um… guys…” Satoru turns then, as his co-star is covered, and he laughs a bit, rushing to grab soft wet wipes for her.

“I’m sorry, shit!” Him and Suguru carefully clean her up, and now her manager walks in, along with Satoru’s and Suguru’s, a freshly cleaned costar hugs the two of them.

“Thank you for letting me join, my OF is gonna blow up!” Satoru smiles then, while their managers all spread out the cut.

“Of course, you did great.” She beams, hugging Suguru now.

“Amazing, love.”

“You all are the best!” Soon it’s just Satoru and Suguru with their managers, and Satoru is yawning, bored, still not dressed, cock just swinging and still huge on semi hard, much to his manager’s annoyance.

“We have a big shoot tomorrow, don’t be out partying.” He says, avoiding Satoru’s cock in his vision so much Satoru laughs.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Satoru and Suguru absolutely listen…

Not.

They’re smoking a blunt right in the middle of a Hollywood party, lit off their asses, perhaps they partook in a little coke to celebrate, but who’s to say, just a residue of white in their nostrils to really know. They’re surrounded by women, free drinks all over of the highest quality, to celebrate breaking the bank with the star they shot with, why should they turn it down?

Satoru Gojo loves his life, really.

It feels good, it’s always busy, full of pretty women and an insane amount of money and fame, shit he loves to read comments on himself, but he wouldn’t admit it, about how badly everyone wants him. And why wouldn’t they? Satoru finds himself attractive as fuck, first and foremost. But at times, alone in that penthouse when Suguru would leave for days at a time…

Sometimes he got a little lonely, if he was being honest. Hollywood was full of fake and fleeting friends, and even costars wanted his fame, his cock, his money, not really him. But that was something Satoru shoves far, far back, instead returning his mind to the party at hand, a sea of bodies in a huge mansion right on the coast, littered with entangled and dancing bodies.

It all seems perfect, until Satoru sees someone walk in, a pretty girl who just doesn’t fit in, she just sticks out, nervously clutching a teddy bear cased phone, pushing up her tortoiseshell glasses. As Satoru leans forward, and Suguru hands him a blunt, he can’t get his fucking gaze of the girl, her baggie tan sweater, white pleated skirt and converse.

She stands out completely from the half naked women, many blondes with fake bodies, fake asses, fake tits… not that Satoru minded, he loves all tits and asses, silicon or not. But you look natural, your lips don’t have all that filler, the lips you’re biting, but when your teeth release them, they’re still full and fucking gorgeous, just a bit glossy, the low soft lights glinting off them.

The music of the party fades, everything fades, it’s like some stupid nineties rom com where the room parts, and it’s just this girl. A sweet girl with her hair falling over one shoulder, the other bare, and if Satoru could pick a body part that’s oddly turning him on, it’s your bare shoulder, your collarbones, with a pretty necklace that looks like it must be your zodiac sign.

Someone comes up to you then, handing you a glass of champagne, and he watches you shift a bit, looking down shyly, tucking your hair behind your ear, eyes traveling up and down your body, dying to know what your outfit is hiding. Your eyes catch his suddenly, a sweet, shy smile that just fucks him up, it’s like you’ve punched him in the fucking chest.

“Satoru… Satoru… earth to fucking Satoru… M’gonna smoke all this blunt myself, then-” Satoru finally realizes Suguru is calling for him, when he waves a hand in front of Satoru’s face, ruining his field of vision.

“Who is she?” Satoru and Suguru know most of the industry, sex workers and actors alike, and he sure the fuck has never seen you. Suguru eyes you then, his lips quirking up as you look down shyly once more, poking at your phone.

“I don’t know, she’s pretty though.” Satoru scowls, and Suguru leans back on the crushed velvet couch, purple as his eyes, handing Satoru the much smaller blunt than he previously saw.

How long had he been staring?

“Looks like a good girl, don’t corrupt her.” Satoru glares deeper, blue eyes glinting as he snatches up the blunt, wrapping his lips around the tip and inhaling that smoke deep in his lungs, leaning back and blowing the smoke up in a puffy cloud.

“Just curious, looks like she doesn’t belong here.” Suguru shrugs, taking the brown paper tube back, ashing it in a tray along a dark black table, humming a bit to himself.

“We don’t date.”

“And?”

“She doesn’t… she looks like… she dates.”

“Huh, you can tell that?” Satoru raises a thin brow, and Suguru sighs, smirking a bit.

“I know lots of things.”

“Yeah, whatever… I’m talking to her.” Satoru stands up now, brushing his hands down his white dress shirt a bit, taking a breath.

Fuck is he nervous!?

Satoru Gojo, who strokes his dick on the camera, who grins as people comment that they want it in their mouths, their cunts, fuck- their asses, all their holes - filled up with his white cum. Satoru Gojo who is the top .01% of anyone on his OF, who has pro roles in the highest quality porn there was, was not a shy or nervous man, especially with women.

Why are his hands sweating then? His blood rushing through his ears every step he takes closer to you, your eyes lower a bit, so shy and cute and fucking precious, he has to smile a bit at you, drink in his hand, his other in the pocket of his dark armani slacks. He casually leans over a bit, as your eyes meet his, behind dark shades, his grin bright and enigmatic.

“Hey sweetheart, Satoru Gojo.” He expects you to notice maybe, but you just smile, oblivious, holding out your hand, small in his huge grip, and Satoru has some insane urge to kiss it, that he gulps down.

The fuck is this.

This feeling just touching your skin, inhaling your scent, fuck you smell sweet like some cupcake, you have him intoxicated as his eyes dart to those lips, teeth indentations he feels an urge to run his thumb across. Your eyes look up from behind your own glasses, as the two of you just hold hands for a moment, just a moment, and Satoru can hardly describe just what it is drawing him like a magnet.

You give him your name, and he repeats it, making your own heart race just a bit at the tall stranger, when his blue eyes glint as he slides off his shades, snowy lashes lowering over beautiful blue irises, your breath is caught in your chest. Swirling blue storms unlike anything you’ve ever seen, so intense and beautiful it’s almost difficult to look right at.

“Are you new to the area? Or…” You giggle a bit, sipping on the bubbly champagne that tickles your nose just a bit.

“I look that out of place huh?”

“No, you’re cute. Very cute. Pretty.” He’s stuttering damn near, Satoru fucking Gojo, watching the flush that decorates your cheeks, as your lips touch the rim of the glass, and he can’t stop thinking how much he’d like to kiss those little bite marks away.

“Thank you, that’s sweet.”

“Sweet is not what I’m usually called.”

“Oh really? What are you usually called?”

“Daddy.” You nearly snort out your champagne then, covering your face in a fit of laughter, and he pouts now, swirling those shades casually.

“Are you serious?”

“Oh yeah. They all do, they can’t help it, you know.”

“Mmhmm.” You’re giggling so much you snort, so cute Satoru can’t help but laugh with you, the first genuine one he’s done in a minute, not so forced to always appear so carefree. “I snorted, oh no!”

“It’s cute.” He brushes your hair between two of his fingers, and the both of you pause now, taking a breath, your lids lower just a bit, stepping closer, like Satoru himself is pulling you with his gravity. “What brings you here?”

“My friend invited me! She said seven, so I came a little early… but she’s not even on her way.” You sigh then, and he smirks just a bit.

“LA time is different. Twenty minutes late is on time, and forty minutes late is ‘fashionable’. No one comes early.”

“Shit!” You smack yourself in the forehead, and he takes your hand once more, enveloping your little one in his own.

“I can keep you company, want another drink?”

“Um… sure.”

Soon the two of you are sitting on one of the many couches in the taupe and white decorated mansion, the splashing and screeching of people in the pool mixing in a cacophony with the people dancing and the music inside. Satoru’s enraptured as you begin to talk, soft and thoughtful, while sipping on another glass, his arm just a bit across from you, behind your neck, fingers brushing your soft cashmere.

Every time he does you heat up that much more, you haven’t been with someone you felt this comfortable with in… maybe, ever. The instant feeling that he’s a sweet guy, natural, funny, and you almost wonder why he’s wasting time on you, with all the elegant women in various states of undress. But his eyes don’t even leave yours, his beautiful azure depths.

You can’t be so interesting or beautiful, sure you are very pretty, but more soft and sweet and not the Hollywood babes that were all over. But he’s laughing right with you, he soon starts busting out purple and white fuzzy weed, breaking it up and starting to roll a blunt, and you’ve never thought about being a paper until you watch a wicked pink tongue dart across it, long fingers sealing it.

“What’s wrong, don’t smoke, sweets?” The nicknames make you shift nervously, he’s too charming, too handsome, fuck not even handsome…

Pretty.

He’s too pretty to be real.

“Are you an actor, or model?” You blurt out, you don’t have much… thought before your words. He blinks a bit in surprise, flipping that blunt to smoke it now, lighting it up, you watch the orange and red of the cherry as he inhales.

“Hmm, a bit of both.” He exhales the puff of smoke, leaning closer to you, so close his thigh brushes yours, just that alone has your tummy fluttering.

“What are you in? I’d love to see your work.” Satoru starts coughing now, uncontrollably, eyes wide, as you stare in concern, coming to tap on his back. “Are you okay!?”

“Shit… yeah…” He’s coughing more, covering his mouth before looking away a moment, taking a breath.

Satoru was not ashamed of what he does for a living, and he never fucking will be either, but suddenly he doesn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry, am I being nosy?”

“No, no… want a hit?” Clearly trying to avoid the question, you wonder… was he in some flop of a movie or something?

“I’ve never smoked.” You’re looking down again, those converse pointing in as you shift once more, so adorable he really can’t stand it.

“Never?” You shake your head, and he grins, teeth glinting as he leans even closer, holding the blunt up high, the smoke swirling around the two of you, creating an even headier atmosphere, like you could get high off him.

“No…”

“Let me be your first.”

“What now!? You’re teasing me!” You cross your arms as he bursts into laughter, taking another hit.

“You’re too adorable not to.” You can’t help how good that makes you feel, he makes you feel… reckless, this stranger. “I can blow it in your mouth?”

“Blow it in my…” You bite your lip again, Satoru leans forward, thumb releasing it from your row of teeth, and the action makes you both pause.

“You bite it too much.” He murmurs softly, and just touching your soft lips, thumb touching the plush of it, is hotter than cumming on a girl’s face this morning, in fact he’s not done something so sensual.

The man who last night was banging a co-star in a mating press, the night before he had two women, one on his face, one riding his cock. The other day, him and Suguru shared another girl, this time dual penetrating her, fuck they were both in her pussy- she clearly was miraculous to take it. This week alone he’d done six shoots, with the best Hollywood had to offer.

But this girl blushing, who’s never smoked a blunt, is so fucking sexy he barely holds back.

He’s leaking precum from your proximity.

“Will blowing in my mouth get me… um, high?” Your words shake him from his revelry, where he’s still touching your pretty little chin, making him clear his throat, plastering on a cocky smile like your scent alone doesn’t have him throbbing.

“A little, but not as intense as a hit yourself. Call it shotgun, you’ve really never heard of it?”

You shake your head, scooting closer and leaning forward, that tan and brown sweater falling just a little more over your shoulder, as your lips are too close. Any other girl by now Satoru would have on his OF, or have in a bedroom, a bathroom, maybe just here on this couch for everyone. He’d have his fingers on them, have them sucking him off.

But he’s just enjoying barely touching you.

Satoru shakes his head, wondering if he’s so high he’s imagining how intense this must be, but looking back down into your pretty eyes behind your glasses, he can’t shove it down. “Trust me?”

“Should I?” He wiggles his brows, grinning.

“Maybe you shouldn’t, maybe it’s a ploy to kiss you.” You’re giggling again, sighing now, and tilting your chin up, your hand resting on his thigh, while he cups your face.

“I doubt you need to ploy anyone into kissing them.”

“Never have before, no.”

“Then… I trust you.” You lean forward again, eyes fluttering shut, your lashes just barely brushing the glasses, and he pauses, before inhaling the blunt deep into his lungs, tilting your chin up and opening your lips.

“Suck in.” His words carry far too much intent, when he blows his smoke directly into your mouth, and you do just that, sucking in all the smoke you can, as he sighs into your sweet mouth, lips full and plush on your own.

Fuck.

Satoru blows all the smoke, and you’re sucking it in. “Good girl.”

Fuck.

You almost die then, coughing a bit, embarrassingly wet for him, and this is not normal. You’re a girl who has to have a relationship to have sex, you’re a girl who has to really know someone, feel so comfortable, but Satoru Gojo was completely wrecking you now. You let the smoke go, the fog rising, when he leans low once more, one hand pulling you closer.

“Another?” He asks in a whisper, you can’t stop but nodding, watching his plump lips circle that blunt again, and he’s blowing it back in your mouth, pulling you closer, while you inhale it deep. He pulls back a bit now, as you’re holding it, sighing. “Blow it back in my mouth.”

You do as he asks, and soon your tongues touch, sloppy and drippy wet, making you whine out from the back of your throat, the sound making Satoru fucking feral. You kiss fully, your hand slipping up his shirt now, lightheaded from the smoke and his ardent kiss, how he possesses your fucking mouth, and the blood rushes to your ears, your head so light and fuzzy.

“Fuck…” His words come out in a low growl, pulling you even closer, until one of your thighs is over his, and he’s pressing a kiss across your jaw, up to your ear, you’re gripping his soft, expensive shirt like your life depends on it, whimpering so softly only he can hear. “Taste so sweet, do you everywhere?”

“I… huh… I… mmm…” You’re dizzy when he nips your ear, a big hand brushing your waist, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, before he pulls back, eyes so bright, his pupils shrunk to little pinpoints now. “Gojo…”

“Satoru.”

You’re blushing furiously, eyeing your surroundings, when you’re soaked now, it feels so… naughty but exciting, fuck. You have to gather yourself, taking several shaky breaths, as he’s leaning down further, your heat against one of his thighs now. “Satoru um… I need a moment. That was intense.”

“Shit, of course.” He pulls back, taking his own breath, putting out the blunt now, eyeing the glossy redness of your now swollen lips.

He can picture them so perfectly wrapped around the tip of his cock. So innocent, did you do that? Would he have to show you, direct you? The perfect angle of your eyes, the way to open your mouth, how to take him deep down that little throat, one he can imagine seeing his cock bulge out of. All the thoughts are running insane while you lean back a bit, hands loosening their grip on his shirt finally.

“Want a drink, sweets?” You nod now, your eyes are so dilated they look black, glasses just a little fogged from his breath and the smoke.

“Yes, please. You didn’t tell me um, what movies can I find you in?”

“Like looking at me?” He’s cocky, conceited, but you just nod a bit, making him falter now. “Indie films, low budget, obscure.”

“Oh? I love indie flicks!” He grimaces now, a girl who’s never smoked weed and screams inexperienced may not like him if she knew he cums on girls' tits and their faces for money.

He wants to just say it.

But…

“You’ve not heard of ‘em. Let’s get you a drink, hmm pretty?” You nod shyly, standing with his help, and soon the two of you have made it in the center of one of the main party rooms, there are women getting lines done off them, men with several women on them at once, all kissing, grinding, along with those dancing. And now Satoru has your hips in his grip, showing you how to roll them.

You’re not a dancer, a little awkward and off beat, but you’re laughing, a pretty peal of a sound that melts him, and he can’t remember the last time he has had so much fun, as he does working you in a figure eight, kissing your neck teasingly. You’re ticklish, he really notices when his fingertips graze your hips under your sweater, earning your little gasp and look up at him.

“Cute.”

“You keep saying that, like I’m a little kitten!”

“Maybe you are. Or a little bunny.”

“Oh!” You’re giggling though, when you turn and get just a little dizzy, but he captures you, and you finally say it. “Um… why talk to me?”

Satoru frowns now, thin brows together, as the song is slower, and you’re damn near grinding against his thigh, with how he holds you. “What do you mean why?”

“You’re so… there’s so many…”

“Shh.” He puts a fingertip to glossy lips, taking a breath. “I’m enjoying myself, are you sweetheart?”

“Yes but…”

“Want a secret?” You nod and he leans down, breath tickling the shell of your ear. “You’re the prettiest girl here.”

“No way!”

“Mmhmm, and I’d know. Expert.” You tuck your face against his chest, giggling again, as your arms wrap his torso tighter.

“You’re being too nice.”

“No, just saying what I think. But your cheeks turn a really pretty color, don’t they?”

“Shh.” You look back up, eyes glittering, and it takes everything for Satoru not to take you then and there, lap up that heat he can feel emanating from your surely pretty little cunt. You peck a kiss on his neck, earning a little exhale, when Satoru pulls your little body even closer against his, so huge, tall, hard, everywhere. “Satoru…”

Suddenly your friend hits your field of vision, pausing and widening her pretty eyes as she takes in the sight of you two. You clear your throat, tapping Satoru then, whose hands are dangerously close to gripping your ass, your scent overtaking him, the feel of you in his arms driving him insane with need. He blinks a bit, as he then turns where you’re pointing.

“My friend!” You’re grinning then, and Satoru’s heart drops just a bit, when he recognizes her, since he’d been inside her just last week.

Shit.

“Come meet Satoru!” You’re bouncing practically as you drag Satoru by his hand, and your friend smiles just a bit, as Satoru clears his throat, and you’re adorable and oblivious.

“We’ve met.” You blink a bit in surprise at her words, looking at Satoru, who’s put back on his shades, hand that was on the small of your back falling.

“Oh, where? A movie set? She does some acting too!” Your best friend takes your hand then, as Satoru looks away.

“Yeah, a set. Um, can I steal you baby?” She asks, brushing your hair back, you nod with a pretty smile.

“I’ll be back!” Satoru smiles a bit, cursing softly, when Suguru comes walking up to him, sipping on a whiskey, eyeing the two girls.

“Didn’t you…”

“Fuck her friend? Yep.” He answers with a pop of his lips, hand brushing his hair back then, sighing. “Shit I really like her.”

“Like her or want her?”

“Both. More. Shit.” Suguru contemplates his friend, then eyes you and your friend together.

“Her friend is Jenna Juggs?”

Satoru’s lips quirk up a bit. “She is indeed. Fuck I need a drink, I am sure she won’t want to talk to me now.”

“Since when do you care?”

“Shut up.” Satoru’s all pouty, and you frown now, looking up at Jenna, who is tugging you far away.

“What’s going on? You always say I need to try to meet someone!”

“Yes, but…” She sighs now, looking over at him, then back down at you. “You really don’t recognize him?”

“He said he’s in like… indie films?” She snorts just a bit then, shaking her head and sighing.

“Indie films huh. Babe aren’t you on my OF?”

“To support you! I’ve never looked, oh god.” Jenna giggles, sighing.

“I thought you peeked a bit huh?”

“No. I read my porn.”

“So classy.” You both giggle, and you feel blue eyes boring across the room, sending a shiver down your spine as you look over your shoulder.

“I’m not any better than you because you like to watch or… participate. But anyway, what’s OF have to do with it?”

“We… collabed last week.” You watch her shift a bit, eyelashes lowering as she now giggles at the memory, and you feel your tummy clench just a bit, eyes catching Satoru’s again, he’s leaning against a counter, ignoring everyone that comes his way with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

“Collabed as in…” She nods a little, and you exhale. “Oh.”

“He’s a huge name, like the top porn star there is, him and his friend over there.” You see him now, long dark hair, as tall as Satoru, leaning against the counter right with him, but Satoru still hasn’t peeled his eyes off you. “It was a big deal to get him to join, and he’s really sweet but…”

“But?” You raise a brow now, and your friend brushes her hair back, looking in their direction again.

“He’s amazing in bed, like the best I’ve had.”

“Ah… that good?” You’re clearing your throat nervously, drinking your glass slowly, trying to ignore the odd feelings in your tummy.

Were you really envious right now?

You shouldn’t feel this way, she’s your best friend and you don’t even know him, but also you could never just…

Could you?

“He hasn’t dated a single girl in the eight years he’s done porn, him or his friend, notoriously single even for the industry.”

“Shit are they together?” She laughs a bit then.

“People certainly ship them but…”

“Ship, like characters, are they that famous?”

“Mmhmm. Now if you just want to have fun, he’s amazing but I know you.” She puts one of her hands on your shoulders now, cool thumb running little circles on your bare shoulder. “You’re sweet, innocent and you want love.”

“I’ve done things!”

“With how many people?”

You sigh now, drinking the rest of your drink in a gulp. “Just my ex.”

“That’s what I figured, and that’s fine baby, if you need a connection, or something deep? He’s not it. That’s all, I see how much fun you were having, and I don’t want you hurt if he gets… what he wants and goes. In this industry how you see sex is very different.”

“Ah. I get it, you think he just wants to…” You can’t even say it, fuck you’d been wet, ready, and you were never like that with a stranger, your experience as a demisexual just is limited, where you crave connection, comfort, and meaning behind sex, you can’t just ‘have fun’.

But he’d had you questioning it all, because you felt something in that kiss- was it just his experience?

“He’s walking sex, I can’t blame you one bit. And I support anything you do- shit I highly recommend it. But you…”

“Yeah no, I am not into hooking up. I’m glad you told me but… something about him…” You trail off then, swallowing nervously, as her hands come to your sides, and she hugs you closely.

“I know, it doesn’t mean you can’t talk to him, but you had to know.” She nibbles on a nail then, lashes lowering. “He gives mean backshots, if you go that route.”

“Jenna!” You’re both giggling, and the party goes on then, the two of you smiling and waving as you keep finding each other around the room, soon Jenna is good and sauced, and you know you need to make sure you both get home okay. But you can’t help but stop by Satoru before you go, nervously fidgeting with your hands in front of you.

“Hey sweets, heading out?” He asks softly, a hand coming to grip your wrist, swallowing it with his long fingers, you eye the connection, feeling yourself heat up at it, trying to remind yourself, it’s him ‘dripping sex’ it’s his job. Maybe he thinks you’re pretty enough not to fuck for a shoot, maybe he’d actually like to know you a bit, but her words hit hard.

“Satoru, do you date?” Your words make him pause. “Not me, just in general.”

“Do I date?” He blinks a bit, lips opening, then shutting. “She told you.”

“I would never judge, my best friend does it, if anything I’m envious that you all can just do that.” Your eyes are glimmering just a bit, now his hand slips up your wrist, thumb brushing the delicate veins there, sighing. “I just wanted to clarify that part.”

“I haven’t dated since like college, no.”

“And you’re…”

“Twenty eight.” You nod a bit now, calculating, a good eight years since he’s dated- since he’s been in the industry. “I was enjoying our time.”

“I was too, very much. Got me high you know.” He grins then, and you can’t help but smile back, heart racing in your chest - and you realize it, Jenna is right. What you’re feeling from one meeting could hurt you. “I’d still like to be friends?”

“Friends, hmm?” You nod as he leans down, his other hand pressing against the nip of your waist, pulling you against him, watching the catch of your breath, the dilation of your pupils. You’re biting that lower lip again, a little soft whine in the back of your throat escaping.

“I’d love to be. I really like you, Satoru.” He melts for you then, at your cute little smile, your hand slipping up his chest. “I had a lot of fun tonight.”

“So did I. Friends, then, I could use some.” He kisses your lips softly, a mere brush, that’s not what friends should feel from a little kiss, right? That ache between your thighs, your pulse racing, as he can’t stop thinking how good you feel in his arms, thinking he’d like you to stay.

“Me too, maybe you’ll make me a stoner, hmm?”

He laughs then, genuine and charming. It’s hard to think of him ‘giving Jenna backshots’ a mix of sweet and charming, you try to remember just that. “So she didn’t have a bad review for me?”

“Quite the opposite, you’re apparently the best in the industry.” The softness and break in your voice makes him pause, usually he’d be cocky about hearing that, but he doesn’t know just how that makes him feel. “I haven’t watched your kind of work, I’m afraid.”

“I didn’t think so. Too obscure.”

“Clearly.” You both laugh softly again, you are leaning back now, taking a breath, trying to remember yourself, but it’s hard when all you can think of is his lips.

“Can I have your number?” Satoru Gojo has never asked for a girl’s number, but he damn near gets giddy when you nod, slipping out your phone, giving it to him then, which he saves under your name.

“I don’t do casual, I’ve never even kissed someone I’m not serious about. Um… but I really had fun.”

That innocent?

He figured close to it but…

“Did I corrupt you so much in one night?”

“Maybe so. I have to get my friend home safe, so I will talk to you sometime?”

“Any time.” He brushes your hair back again, kissing your cheek once more, your eyes shut at how good it feels, sighing.

When you’re gone, Satoru does not like the feeling left.

The rest of the party is dimmed now, he can’t stop thinking about you, about watching you inhale that smoke, about watching your cute, shy little fucking smile, but why would you like him, he fucked your best friend last week. And you’re clearly a good girl, a sweet girl, and that’s what he would do - corrupt you.

But the thoughts of corrupting you start taking over, so intense he can hardly stand it, imagining teaching you everything. How to arch your ass up just right for him, have you cum so hard you’d squirt and drip down his cock, fuck he’d love to watch your eyes roll back in your head, as he hits spots he’s sure no one ever has, cumming so hard you cry pretty tears.

It’s so ridiculous he’s throbbing, and as some of his co-stars come and flirt with him, he can barely give them a little smile, a playful wink, turning down the endless opportunities tonight with one excuse- ‘he’s tired’ - is about all he can come up with. Because what is this!?

What’s the feeling that night when you’re laying in your bed, scrolling through your friend’s OF for the first time, heating up as you scroll, you’ve seen her naked a ton, you’ve taken her pictures, but when you see her bent over, and that sexy white haired man wrapping an arm around her waist? His other hand, wrapped around her throat, and her eyes rolled back?

The scene alone without clicking play is too much, you’re trembling, imagining pressing play, hesitating. You barely know him, but something clicked tonight, you had fun for the first time in forever, but to know that you maybe already developed a crush on someone unattainable seems a cruel joke.

Hopelessly single because you’re so picky, because a lot of time your interests don’t align - how could you like someone who doesn’t think Lord of the Rings is a classic, for example - or if you’re not feeling something. Your friends think you put too much into it, they think you should let go and have fun, and maybe you did, tonight, but that was because of him.

You keep furiously flushing as you go back and forth, thumb hovering over the screen, Jenna wouldn’t care if you saw, and maybe Satoru wouldn’t, but something feels so different to you, so naughty, like inhaling smoke from his mouth tonight. You keep shutting the phone off, then turning it back on, when suddenly you get a text from him.

Satoru - Hope you got home safe, sweets.

He’s sweet, he’s thoughtful, he’s fucking gorgeous and…

He would never date.

It’s a really mean joke someone’s playing on you.

You - Thank you, I did! I hope you did too.

You can’t look at the video! Can you?

Satoru’s laid up in his bed, picturing you, god he can taste your lips on his still, swiping a hand over his face as you send some little emoji, far, far too cute, so cute you make him ache. He wonders then just what is it about you, surely you’re beautiful, but it can’t just be that.

He can’t get you off his mind.

You can’t stop yourself from pressing play.

Your breath catches when you finally do, and you see it, him fucking Jenna, looking right at the fucking camera, a smirk and blue eyes, as he thrusts up inside of her. You don’t enjoy porn, it’s not intimate enough for you- but looking at him makes your cunt throb, you touch it to find it hopelessly drenched, watching him manhandle and flip her like she’s nothing, right on her back.

You watch him put your best fucking friend in a mating press, watch him smack his cock against her tummy, pulling his condom off, cumming on her then. When you get a good look at his pretty pink tip, veiny long cock and ropes of fucking cum, you mindlessly touch your cunt, soaking your sleep shorts, crying out before you catch yourself, cursing.

You shut it off, huffing and yanking the blankets over your face.

It must be… the drinks, the smoke, him, making you act this way. A good book with meaning, a perfect man in your head, that’s what you want, what you need, right? Not whatever he was doing to your mentality, fuck it’s your friend too, how could you ever get wet to that?

“Fuck this.” You grumble, swiping away from your friend’s OF, but the image is firmly burned into your mind, of Satoru moaning with his lips parted, jerking his cock along her in pretty patterns. You pull up your book instead, filling your mind with anything and everything else, when another text pops up.

Satoru - Good night, sweetheart.

You just watched him cum, now you feel horrible, ugh! What is up with you tonight!? He’s probably being friendly and you’re over here touching your sensitive little clit watching him. You struggle to compose yourself, finally having to go wipe up, splashing yourself with cold water in your little bathroom, you dry your hands on a towel, looking at yourself in the mirror for a moment.

You look fucked up.

You finally text him back.

You - Good night, Satoru, sweet dreams.

Satoru can’t stop the dopey smile on his face, cock annoying and throbbing, and instead of letting it get taken care of, he’d just focused on how badly he wanted you, how much he can’t get you off his mind. Fuck just your shampoo and whatever heavenly fucking body spray spritzed on you made him harder to remember, how pretty you’d look in his bed, under him.

‘Friends’, you’d like to be ‘friends’.

Satoru doesn’t think anything in his mind was friend appropriate currently, not when he’s stroking himself, crying out and picturing just peppering your shoulder and neck with kisses, biting you, marking you. Leaving bruises along a perfect neck while you grip his hair, crying out, head falling back. Having your heat he could still feel on his fingers.

As you’re struggling to calm down, Satoru’s giving up, jerking off for the first time maybe in forever alone, sure he does for videos, but he doesn’t have to make himself cum often when everyone was lining up to suck him. But instead he’s stroking a famous cock thinking of a sweet girl with a brown sweater that falls just so, hiding a body he’s dying to know.

As you’re finally asleep, mind racing, he’s cumming ropes into his palm, picturing much better places for this cum- like inside your sweet little cunt - and that’s one thing Satoru Gojo does not do. Trying to come down himself, cleaning up, he looks in the mirror, seeing the pink of his own cheeks, shaking his head then.

He looks fucked up off you.

*****

While you are at work that next monday, sitting at your desk typing away, Satoru Gojo has an entirely different sort of work to accomplish, this time with his costar Sukuna, who he frequently worked with, and the two of them either popped off on each other or competed for who could make the girl squirt the most. Sukuna was currently lapping at the co-star’s cunt with his pierced tongue.

She’s she’s bent over sucking Satoru’s cock with expert suction, and he should be loving it, he’s worked with her before and she is a sweetheart and highly fucking skilled, and this shoot pays extremely well. A win win, even with Sukuna running it, currently at least his mouth was occupied. The director zooms right in, maybe that’s what’s bothering him, the cameras, the bright lighting.

Satoru’s cock is not staying hard, even as she’s choking back moans with the pink haired munch of a man going so intense, her nails gripping Satoru’s thighs so tightly, pressing in. He tries to focus on how it feels, shutting his eyes, but all he can think of is you.

Your lips.

Your eyes.

Those glasses on the bridge of your nose.

How you shift your fucking thighs, heated from desire.

God, he can’t stop thinking of you, what if you saw him on a video? Would it make your surely pretty pussy wet? He’s suddenly hard fully once more, grabbing his co-star’s hair and shoving his cock so deep she’s choking, gasping, but he can’t manage to open those eyes until the director says something then.

“Gojo, the eyes- look at the camera.” He sighs now, they were part of his money, the eyes that no one had, the ones that entranced so many, he manages to open them, eyeing the camera, but instead of his usual smirk there is a pout, and his co-star pulls back, frowning just a bit, as Sukuna pulls away from her cunt, tattooed face glistening.

Amongst the most famous pornstars, Sukuna rivaled Satoru- the alternative, rougher version perhaps to the pretty boy, he slips two fingers in her cunt, and she moans, as he eyes Satoru. “Who’s fucking her first?”

“Me, of course.” Sukuna chuckles, her cunt is so loud it’s squishing and clicking, much to the delight of the director, and Satoru has her on top of him then, as Sukuna guides her onto his cock, slapping her ass loudly. Satoru struggles, gulping as she sinks on him over his condom.

It feels warm and good but…

He can’t even look at her.

She’s bouncing up and down him while Sukuna plays with her from the back, and Satoru forgets he’s even on a set, lips parted in a sigh as he looks away, and realizes he’s gone soft again. “Is something wrong?” She asks softly, he shakes his head now, gripping her hips.

“No, no it’s fine, wanna ride him for me?” She nods, and Satoru then helps her ride Sukuna’s cock, as he kisses down her shoulder, shutting his eyes once more, trying to hide how soft he is and failing.

“Cut.” The director calls, Satoru sighs, as Sukuna moans, yanking her down his length, and her head falls back. “I said cut.”

“We can fuck while we’re waiting for him to get on board.” Sukuna grins up at her as she giggles, and Satoru glares. “Go get a viagra.”

“I don’t need one, fuck it’s just… the lights.”

“Need a break Gojo?” His director asks, and he manages a nod. “Go ahead to the dressing room, we’ll… make sure they are ready to go when you come back.”

“She’ll be fucked out before you get it up.”

“Whatever Sukuna, fuck you.” Sukuna snorts in laughter, Satoru stomps over to the dressing room, cursing then and resting his head against that door, taking several breaths and scowling at his cock. “Work, shit…”

What is this!?

A pretty girl at a party shouldn’t ruin his whole cock, ruin his enjoyment, cloud his goddamn mind, a girl who’s a - friend - what’s his problem!? He’s sitting down on the couch then over a towel, still literally naked, stroking it, once, twice, three times. Nothing helps, the condom hanging just so off his cock, when he grimaces, pulling it off and tossing it in the trash, pulling out his phone, and he pauses at your name.

Satoru - Hey sweets, I don’t have a pic for your caller ID, could you send one?

He tenses as he sees you immediately typing, cock twitching right back to life from three stupid dots wiggling. He bets you’re biting that lip.

You are.

You’re nervous as you look around your quiet workplace, you’re a graphic designer and it’s a little late, so you’re nearly alone, finishing a project, when you see he wrote to you. The man you have not looked back up, but it’s taken every bit of self control not to watch his content, and boy does he have so much, up to and including his own asmr.

That’s dangerous.

He’s dangerous.

Because you could never just enjoy him for who he is, you would want more, fuck you already feel it, the odd sensation knowing he’s likely fucking someone constantly, picturing yourself wildly for a moment with him behind you. Surely you couldn’t be a co-star, you’d flip on camera, too shy, but you keep envisioning it regardless, him choking you as he sinks deep.

Stop that.

You turn in your big black chair, spinning it just a bit, seeing the beautiful soft lighting of the upcoming evening pouring in through the floor to ceiling windows, deciding it’s good lighting. Your chest rises and falls with your nerves, you didn’t know how to be sexy in photos, but do you want to?

You do.

Fuck you do.

You’re leaning back and angling the phone just so, glasses off for a moment on your desk, since they’d been giving you a bit of a headache, throwing a peace sign and parting your lips, you don’t know exactly how to pose. You knew what art was, what beauty was, but a little clueless how to angle yourself like your friend Jenna has always been able to.

After peering through a few photos, brows drawn together in concentration, you send one his way, he’s viewed it and he instantly hearts it, making you exhale, relieved that maybe he thinks it’s cute enough. But little do you know, you have him full hard now, thumb brushing his leaky tip, making him whimper, picturing rubbing his cock right on those pretty lips of yours.

God you’re just in a blouse but he can see your nipples pressing from the material, begging for him to pluck them, suck them, and he can’t stand the longing, the need making his body ache. He curses softly, wiping a sticky thumb on his towel, trying to compose himself, he’s acting like some stupid lovesick boy, not the entire star he knows he is.

And your eyes, eyes he didn’t get a good enough look at, so fucking gorgeous, it’s hard to look away, but as he does, he notices more, your bitten lips, the gentle slope of your neck, the way you have little marks from the pads of your glasses on the sides of your pretty nose. God, all of you is delectable.

Satoru - Gorgeous, thank you. Saved.

You - Thank you, Satoru um, can I have one too?

He smirks now, because if he was good at anything - aside from making women cum - it was taking the perfect selfie. He’s lifting the camera high, showing far too much of his strong chest, his rippled, cut abdomen, down to those v cuts and his veins running just above his snowy white pubic hair. Not his cock, of course, but enough for you to get the idea.

He sends it with a smirk, and you open it with a gasp, eyeing a body you saw somewhat in the shoot, but nothing looks quite like what’s in front of you right now on your screen. He’s got his brilliant eyes bright and lidded, tousled white hair, lips parted just so, making your lips tingle at the memory. You touch them longingly as you study his body, glistening with sweat.

Fuck he’s sexy.

You shift in your office chair, sighing, putting back on your glasses for an even deeper inspection- and since when are you so turned on by looks? You’re into who someone is, of course looks are great, but to have your pussy clenching over a picture is insanity.

And for Satoru to have a raging hard cock over a selfie is batshit insane, but here the two of you are, you saving an obscenely sexual photo, and him saving a demure little picture, both smiling at them. But then you frown a bit, taking in the couch, the lighting, realizing it then.

You - Are you on a shoot?

Satoru - Yes.

Why does that make you feel just a little envious of whoever gets to kiss and touch on him?

Why does it make you a little jealous of who gets him on them, his plump lips on their skin?

You shake it off, smiling tremulously as your hands shake, typing a

I know you’ll kill it, have fun! Got the pic saved thanks. <3

Satoru leans his head back again, before looking at your photo once more, rushing out before his cock decides not to work again, slipping on another condom. When he’s gripping her hips and smiling at the camera as he does, however, he doesn’t know if he can keep it up, luckily he’s so huge she barely notices, while she’s gushing down his latex covered cock.

He’s encouraging her, pressing his thumb against her clit, while she’s sucking on Sukuna, and he tries to remember how amazing his life is, and focus, surely this is something that will pass. Some infatuation, and he’ll get back to normal in no time, he’s sure of it.

Right?

******

Wrong.

After a string of highly unsuccessful shoots that Satoru’s had to push off on Suguru and Sukuna, he’s decided the only hope for it is to give in and jerk his cock to your pictures. That week you’ve sent others, all cute and innocent, but how do you manage to make him so obsessed? Every pretty inch of skin you show he’d litter with bruises.

Not that there was much skin shown, the plush of your thighs over cute knitted knee high socks, and god you’re as hot with your glasses as you were without, he couldn’t figure out what he liked more. Your shoulders are just a little bare, begging for his teeth to sink into them, since when he is so turned on by hints of skin than soaking wet costars?

The first time he jerks it, he cums so much he knows the best solution, to focus on his solo career, at least until whatever the fuck this is - this obsession - could pass. He’s making bank as he does them, actually, and he can’t help but grin as he’s become the top onlyfans creator, stroking his cock for so many of his fans, all while he can prop his phone up and look at what new selfie you’ve sent.

“Hah- I know, it’s pretty, isn’t it?” He’s winking right at that camera, stroking faster and faster, spitting down on his tip, spreading it with a lewd squishing sound as the comments go insane.

Satoru cum for us!

It’s so pretty

Want a taste

Want it in me

What a win-win, making bank for stroking it to you, all while getting his ego filled by all the comments, he’s stroking his ego with his length, smirking as his free hand uses the mouse to scroll down. “Ah, I know, it’s huge, is it sensitive, mmm… a little bit if I do this.”

He’s twisting just so, eliciting a little cry, when he sees a name pop up, pausing his movements- and you’re staring right at Satoru Gojo’s live stream, heart hammering, worried he’d notice you. His little look of shock confirms it, as his hand finally slides back down his shaft, and your eyes follow the movement, so hungry for him you can’t stand it.

When Jenna teased Satoru had a live stream - she clearly knows now that you are infatuated with him, god he’s all you can think about, daydreaming at work, in your sleep he’s kissing you everywhere with those plump lips. You couldn’t help but talk to Jenna about him again, and she sighed, smiling at you.

“You never know, people change, maybe you two should at least hang out?” You’d repeated it softly, shaking your head. “No?”

“Why would he want to?”

“Well, I heard he’s had no shoots for a bit, and is doing solo things, maybe you could peek?”

You can’t believe you’re on Satoru Gojo’s onlyfans live.

You can’t believe you fucking subscribed to him, too.

And now it’s like he’s looking right fucking at you.

Shit.

He begins stroking his cock once more, murmuring - “I see a new subscriber here, like what you see?”

He’s so pretentious.

But…

You do love it, his veiny cock, which leaks precum on his flat belly button over tense abs, pale thighs spread, muscled and perfect, god all of him was. But something was a little more than just his looks, which sounds insane, but it wasn’t those looks that made you - fuck, lowkey obsessed!?- with him, it was so much more. His eyes elicit far, far too many feelings.

You take a breath for courage, before leaving a comment.

Do you taste sweet everywhere?

Your comment sends him as he reads it, blinking snowy lashes and pausing, while on the other side you’re covering your mouth, panicking- did you really just say that, shit!? You’re taking several breaths, hand on your mouse, ready to leave the chat, as the comments pop off, going insane, asking the question over and over, but Satoru strokes his pretty cock ever so slowly, leaning forward.

He cums when he starts picturing your cute little embarrassed face, he can’t stop himself, knowing you’re watching has him so sensitive, he’s cumming so much it feels so fucking good. His moans are low and gutteral as his cum starts pouring over his slick fist, and you’re watching avidly, breath caught in your chest, heart fucking hammering, so wet it’s dripping through your panties.

You’re on the edge of your seat when he finally opens those blue eyes, to the endless tips pouring in for him, but he’s thinking of just one viewer-

You.

“Do I taste sweet everywhere?” He’s murmuring your name- you’re so dumb to have it as your real name, shit- but the way he chuckles, his eyes going insane as he lifts his hand off his cock then? “Let’s see.”

He’s bringing a white, sticky coated finger to his mouth now, sucking his own milky seed off them, cheeks hollowing as he does, and you can’t help the soft whine that escapes, grinding against your seat, desperate for some fucking friction. He’s insane, surely, you’ve never even thought of it, a man sucking his cum up, it’s so sexy and just obscene it fucks you mentally.

Just who is this freaky ass porn star!?

He’s chuckling now, like he can somehow see your damn reaction from behind the screen, it’s like it’s just you and him, and not a fucking stream full of people, as the tips go insane. The comments are going so quickly he can’t keep up with them, grinning as he sucks more of his cum off another thick, long finger you’d love buried inside of you.

“Hmm, I do taste sweet.” He watches as you tip hundreds, smirking before you log completely off.

He pauses now, you’d had him so fucked up he went full out, he wonders if he’s scared your innocent ass off, sighing now, ending the stream with a laugh and a friendly little good bye, as he always does. He has made so much money it’s stupid, and surely you encouraging his little stunt helped, but now he can’t help but call you after he’s cleaned up the mess you’ve made of him.

You watch the phone vibrate and ring, jumping damn near, covering your hands with your mouth as you see his name, with his half naked fucking picture. Shit, shit, shit…

You slowly pick it up, eyes shut. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what- did you like the show?” His voice is so arrogant and cocky, but you hear it then, the vulnerability under his layers. “I liked that you joined.”

“You did?” Your voice is practically a squeak, he chuckles a bit, laying back on his bed now, phone against his face.

“I did. Now, what did you think?”

“You’re… really… this is embarrassing!”

“It’s not, I promise. I’m flattered.” You sigh now, leaning back in your seat, wishing the air overhead would cool your overheated skin. “Answer me, be a good girl.”

“Satoru, god.” He’s chuckling, but your nipples are pressing out, taut and needy, cunt gushing so much it’s embarrassing. “I liked it but I never do these things.”

“Then I’m more flattered. I’m taking all your firsts.”

“Stop it, you're so ridiculous.” You’re laughing with him then, softly, shaking your head. “How’d you notice me with all those fans?”

“You certainly stand out.” His husky admittal makes you feel far too much, and the next thing out of your mouth makes you question everything.

“Satoru this is stupid and reckless-”

“Perfect, sounds fun!”

“Hush.” You sigh as he grows quiet, words stuck in his throat, how he’d do anything just to see how you taste. “I watched some of you with Jenna.”

He pauses, heart hammering. “Shit, yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re really good at it, um, pleasing.”

“I love to have a pussy drooling on my fingers,” he’s murmuring so fucking soft now, you’re struggling to compose yourself. “My mouth, my cock, fuck my whole face soaked, I love it.”

“Oh?”

He’s chuckling again. “Oh. Cute.”

“Shh. Give me a moment, what if you showed me some things? Off camera, please, I could never-”

“Huh!? What!?” You’re panicking again, embarrassed as he can’t believe his fucking ears.

A chance with you?

Fuck.

“Sorry it’s so rude- that’s your job, and I know you don’t date, but I thought maybe since I feel so comfortable-”

“You feel comfortable with me?” His words are softer now, your eyes shut, sucking in a breath.

“Very. Oddly comfortable, and well I’ve only been with one person, I am sitting here waiting for some romance book love I guess? It’s stupid.”

“Why’s it stupid?” He frowns as he leans his head against his mirror now, standing and trying to pull himself together, cock leaking already thinking of you in his bed.

“I don’t know if it’ll happen but, you’re so sweet and gorgeous and… I’m going on too much.”

“Just say what you want, sweetheart.”

“You to show me things.” You’re shutting your eyes again, waiting for the rejection, but he shocks you once more.

“Then I’ll send a car to get you.”

“Now!?”

“It’s LA, it’ll be thirty minutes at least, if you live where you said, over by that coffee shop on Main right?”

“You remember?”

Of course he does.

“You wanna learn, sweetheart? I’ll teach you anything.”

“Like, free?” He’s chuckling again, the sound so genuine it just makes the ache grow, you’re crazy for this, right?

“Yes free, you’re adorable. Okay then send your address and get ready. Eat something, drink something with electrolytes.”

“Wha-!?” He’s smirking as he eyes his shower, surely he has enough time to wash up for you first.

“Gonna need energy, sweetheart. Lots of it.”

When you’re standing there at the door of Satoru Gojo’s penthouse, and he leans down, his hand on the doorway, veins bulging from his bare arm, hair tousled and still damp, you know it then. When he brushes fingers across your damp hair, bringing it to his nostrils and inhaling your scent, you know it more. But especially when he tilts your chin up, and murmurs - come in.

He’s going to hurt you, but you’ll enjoy the pain.

Ahhh I can't believe all the love the hcs got, like that blew me away, I SO hope you love this, and will enjoy where these two go! I always say - oh this will be four parts- but they always go longer so lol. I hope you all enjoyy I'm so excited to hear what you think!

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grapesandraisins

2 months ago

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grapesandraisins

9 months ago

nekoma // fic recommendations

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works + the synopsis for each fic belongs to the author who wrote the fic

kuroo tetsuro

taste test - kaientai

synopsis: when you taste the same thing as your soulmate, things get interesting

red all over - meldve

synopsis: you are trapped in an elevator with your work rival, kuroo. what else could go wrong?

your name - tsukisemi

synopsis: kuroo finds you really cute, too bad you keep giving him a fake name every time you come into the coffee shop he works at

public transit - orphan_account

synopsis: your heart pounded, knowing you were being touched, and he was watching you.

but when he loves me - sweetcandyliar

synopsis: there are so many ways that kuroo tells you he loves you.

somewhere only we know - wanderwithme (wanderlustt)

synopsis: four times kuroo proposes to you - and the last time he does

meeting the boys - orphan_account

synopsis: in which no one really believes kuroo could get a girlfriend as incredible as you

落葉 | rakuyou - deltachye

synopsis: maple leaves are most beautiful in which they have died, falling slowly, waiting patiently to be reborn

riverbank - itsleese

synopsis: you're reminded of the little boy you loved way back then, the riverbank you played at together. maybe you should go see it?

caring cats - haikyuu_philia

synopsis: nekoma is family

disrupted meetings - sansos

synopsis: dr. tetsurou kuroo’s research group has transitioned to hosting meetings online. what could go wrong?

cat ears - just__j

synopsis: kuroo approaches you, captain of the girls club, with a proposition of a bet for the losing captain

kozume kenma

change the channel - alkale

synopsis: "i want to buy your game from you"

kodzuken does not have a girlfriend - bunnytime

synopsis: it has been a running joke that kodzuken lies about having a girlfriend for years now. needless to say, his fanbase is convinced he doesn’t really have a girlfriend

second place - yourqueenhasarrived

synopsis: kenma forgets your anniversary and once again pushes you aside for his gaming career. how much can you take?

an inconvenient crush - the_only_iris

synopsis: kenma has had the biggest crush on twitch streamer, (y/n). what happens when their paths cross?

learning process - nomazee

synopsis: you and kenma always had an interesting dynamic. kuroo found it nice for everyone involved

thank you for being a friend! - heichoe

synopsis: ”if it helps: when you gave kuroo head in high school, he said it was great"

yaku morisuke

who dares speak aloud these words (intended for the heart to speak) - sunmoonstarsrain

synopsis: yaku bursts into her life like a hurricane, even whilst akaashi lingers on like the memory of a summer breeze

artists eyes - teapots_and_teacups

synopsis: yaku was used to being ignored on the court

if only i were selfish - this noodle writes

synopsis: yaku was anything but a selfish man, but being selfless had cost him you once before. so, when he gets the chance to see you again, will he finally be selfish enough to try?

note: as you can tell, i'm trying a different recommendations style- what do you think? do you think i should switch back to the first one or is this one better? would love to know your thoughts

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grapesandraisins

6 months ago

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grapesandraisins

5 months ago

GODS AND MONSTERS — Sukuna X Female Reader [oneshot]

GODS AND MONSTERS — sukuna x female reader [oneshot]

summary: a thousand years stretch thin between love and loss. sukuna carries the weight of a life unfulfilled, and you, unknowingly, ache for something you can't name. when fate threads your paths together once more, will the echoes of a forgotten bond be enough to heal what time has unraveled?

content warnings: big three (fluff, angst, smut). smutty content [soft sex/p in v/unprotected/creampies/breeding kink/body worship/praise/posessiveness/ oral & fingering (f. receiving)] reader death and reincarnation in modern day world, mentions of violence/killing and gore, soft sukuna, implied heinen era, uraume mentioned, angst with a happy ending

read on ao3!

the king of curses sat in the suffocating stillness of his endless existence, the weight of time pressing heavy on his shoulders. his once-mighty form, feared by all, now hunched under the burden of a life that had lost its purpose. uraume had long since perished, their unwavering loyalty a mere memory now, one more fragment of the life he had left behind. sukuna’s claws had been idle for centuries, yet the echoes of his rampages reverberated in the emptiness of his soul.

for what?

he’d asked himself this question for centuries, the edges of the thought dulling like the once-sharp memories of the one he fought for. you. whoever you were. he remembered only pieces — a laugh like sunlight on water, a touch that once brought him to his knees. but the details? gone.

his queen. his beloved.

your name, your face, your voice — they’d all blurred into a hazy outline, cruelly erased by the passing millennia.

until today.

he wandered through the chaos of the modern world with the same detachment he’d carried for centuries, only vaguely aware of the noise and light surrounding him. the buzz of something humans called technology swarmed in his ears, but none of it mattered.

then he felt it.

a shiver ran down his spine — alien, electric, alive. his steps faltered, his hands twitching at his sides. and when he lifted his gaze, there you were.

a colossal billboard loomed above him, glowing against the twilight sky. and there was your face. your face.

you were dressed in modern clothes, nothing like the regal silks and gold he remembered. your hair was different, your posture foreign, but your eyes — they were the same. the curve of your lips sent a jolt through him, and the name emblazoned across the billboard hit him like a curse:

y/n - world tour starts tonight.

“...no.” sukuna’s voice cracked, the sound foreign even to his ears. his nails dug into his palms, drawing blood, as a wave of raw emotion surged through him. “no... it can’t...”

the tears came before he realized what was happening, hot streaks down his face that carved into his hardened visage like rivers into stone.

“it’s you...” he whispered, his voice trembling. “you came back.”

the memories slammed into him then, a cruel gift from the depths of his long-forgotten soul.

“you can’t die before me, you hear me?” you had said with a teasing smile, pressing your palm against his chest. “i’ll haunt you for eternity if you do.”

“as if i’d let you go first,” he’d replied, brushing your hair aside. his voice had been firm, commanding, but his eyes betrayed his desperation. “you belong to me, in life or in death.”

but you had gone first, hadn’t you? you left him behind, shattering him in a way even the strongest opponents never could.

the world around him blurred as he staggered back, unable to process what he was seeing. you were alive. reborn.

the billboard taunted him with your image, a ghost of the past mingling with the present. your name, your face, your existence — it was no illusion. the bond he’d once treasured but had long since forgotten pulled at him like a chain around his neck.

“you didn’t wait for me...” his voice cracked, a low growl laced with anguish. “but you’re here now.”

with newfound determination, sukuna’s claws flexed. a spark of purpose reignited in his crimson eyes. he would find you. nothing — no mortal, no curse, no god — would keep him from you now.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

sukuna sat in the darkened corner of the venue, an invisible shadow among the throng of humans screaming your name. the irony wasn't lost on him: you, who once belonged solely to him, now belonged to them — a god in their eyes, worshipped by their cheers and adoration.

you stepped onto the stage, bathed in an ethereal glow, and sukuna’s breath caught in his throat. you were magnificent, the power you exuded rivaling the strength of your past self. your voice rang out, rich and hauntingly familiar, threading through his soul like a melody he had clung to in his loneliest nights.

but when your gaze swept over the audience and landed on him, it was as if the world stopped.

his heart, once hardened by centuries of blood and despair, cracked at the faint flicker in your eyes. the recognition was there, brief as a shadow crossing the sun. your lips parted slightly, your brow furrowing as if you were trying to place him.

and then it was gone.

the realization stung more than any blade ever had. you didn’t know him. the face you had traced with reverent fingers, the body you had clung to as if it were your lifeline — it meant nothing to you now.

sukuna leaned back in his seat, his crimson eyes never leaving you. he clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms until blood dripped onto the floor.

how could you not know me?

he had watched entire civilizations fall, mountains crumble, and oceans dry, but this — this was worse than any apocalypse. the tables had turned so cruelly that he almost laughed. you had been his queen, his everything, and now, he was nothing more than a nameless face in the crowd.

the song ended, and the thunderous applause jolted him from his thoughts. he saw you bow gracefully, your smile dazzling and far removed from the quiet, intimate ones you reserved for him.

but as the lights dimmed and you walked off stage, a flicker of something passed over your face — a hesitation, a pause.

you were looking for something. or someone.

sukuna’s claws twitched at his side. could you feel it, even now? the tether that bound us? or had that, too, been severed?

he stood abruptly, his towering frame casting a shadow against the neon lights. the humans around him flinched but paid him no mind, their excitement for your encore drowning out the strange presence among them.

you were close enough for him to feel, to smell, to sense every tremor of your soul. but he couldn’t touch you. not yet.

“is this what it feels like?” he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the noise. “to be forgotten by the one who once knew me better than anyone?”

he let his head tilt back, crimson eyes closing briefly. the memories surged forth unbidden.

“kuna,” you had said once, your eyes closed. your hands reached out, finding his face with unnerving precision. “don’t move.”

he hadn’t. and you had traced his jawline, the sharp curve of his nose, the furrowed lines of his forehead.

“i’d know you anywhere,” you had whispered, your voice soft and certain. “even if the world burned around us, i’d find you.”

but now? your gaze had brushed past him, the faint recognition extinguished before it could ignite.

he moved toward the backstage entrance, his aura commanding even in its restraint. the guards hesitated, their instincts warning them of something primal, something ancient. they stepped aside without understanding why.

as he neared the corridor where you stood, signing autographs and smiling for photographs, he paused. his hands trembled slightly, the weight of millennia pressing down on him.

how do you confront someone who once promised to find you in any lifetime but now looks at you like a stranger?

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the backstage was chaos, the kind that always followed a sold-out performance. your team swarmed around you, fussing over makeup touch-ups, post-show interviews, and wardrobe changes. yet, their chatter and praise fell on deaf ears. you sat on the plush chair in front of a vanity, staring blankly at your reflection.

you were supposed to be happy — ecstatic, even. this was the dream you’d worked tirelessly for, wasn’t it? and yet, as you sang those sugar-sweet songs to a crowd of adoring fans, the ache in your chest only deepened.

yearning was a funny thing. you had been chasing something your entire life, channeling it into melodies that felt raw and true. but the industry had its claws in you now, morphing your art into polished, soulless hits about first loves and fleeting crushes.

you sighed, pressing your palms to your temples. something was missing. you didn’t know what, but it gnawed at you, an emptiness that no amount of applause could fill.

then came the commotion.

the door to the backstage area slammed open, the sound cutting through the noise like a whip. the air shifted, heavy and electric, and for some reason, every hair on your body stood on end.

you turned, and there he was.

a towering man with wild, spiked hair and piercing crimson eyes strode into the room, his presence so commanding that your team froze in place. whispers erupted around you, someone asking who he was, but no one dared to stop him.

his gaze locked onto yours, and the room seemed to vanish.

your chest tightened, the ache that had been with you for as long as you could remember suddenly stopping. just like that.

you didn’t know him. not by name, not by face. and yet, as he stood there, staring at you with an intensity that made your breath hitch, it felt like you should.

“who...” your voice came out a whisper, barely audible above the silence that had fallen.

he didn’t answer immediately. his crimson eyes softened, just for a moment, and you saw something flicker in them — pain, longing, desperation.

“you feel it too, don’t you?” he asked finally, his voice low and rough, sending shivers down your spine.

feel what? you didn’t know what he was talking about, but tears pricked at your eyes anyway. a strange, overwhelming frustration bubbled to the surface, a storm of emotions you couldn’t name.

“i don’t understand,” you murmured, your hands clenching the fabric of your dress.

his expression shifted, his jaw tightening as if your words caused him physical pain. he took a step closer, and your breath caught again.

“you’re not supposed to,” he said quietly, his tone almost bitter. “not yet.”

your vision blurred as tears threatened to spill over. why did this stranger — this man you had never met — make you feel like this? like your heart was both breaking and being made whole all at once?

“why do i feel like i know you?” the words slipped out before you could stop them, your voice trembling.

he exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging slightly under the weight of something unseen.

“because you do,” he said, his voice softer now, but no less intense. “or you did.”

the cryptic answer only frustrated you more, and a tear slipped down your cheek. you looked away, unable to hold his gaze any longer, but he stepped closer, closing the distance.

his hand hovered near your face, as if he wanted to wipe the tear away but didn’t dare to touch you. he wanted to reach out, to touch you, to trace the lines of your face as you once had his, but he didn’t. he couldn’t.

“don’t cry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. there was something in it — something raw and aching — that made your chest tighten again. “not for me.”

“then what for?” you shot back, your voice sharper than you intended. “why does it feel like i’ve lost something i can’t even remember?”

his expression broke for a split second, a crack in his carefully controlled facade. he looked down, his jaw clenching.

“because you have,” he admitted finally. “but it’s not your fault.”

you stared at him, the tears falling freely now. “who are you?”

he met your gaze again, his crimson eyes burning with something ancient, something eternal.

“someone who will never stop looking for you,” he said simply, and with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you with nothing but the echo of his presence and the strange, heavy silence he left behind.

because now, the power lay with you. the king of curses was no longer the one sought out in a crowd. you were the untouchable one, the star shining so brightly that even he, a god among curses, felt small beneath your light.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

grief was supposed to follow loss, but how could you lose someone you never had? it didn’t make sense, this hollow ache in your chest. the man had been a storm, sweeping into your carefully constructed world and leaving just as abruptly, like a phantom that no one else seemed to notice.

you sat in the empty dressing room, the after-show glow long faded, replaced by a cold, suffocating silence. your head was in your hands, your thoughts a jumbled mess as you replayed the encounter over and over.

“no one saw him?” you had asked, desperation creeping into your voice. your crew had exchanged confused looks, some shaking their heads while others muttered that maybe you were overworked, imagining things.

but you knew better.

he was real. the way his presence made the air feel heavier, the way his crimson eyes seemed to peer straight into your soul — those weren’t things your mind could conjure on its own.

yet, there was no trace of him.

no name, no explanation. no footsteps leading to or from the backstage area. it was as if he had materialized out of thin air and dissolved back into it.

you leaned back in your chair, staring at the ceiling as tears pricked at your eyes again. why do i care? you thought bitterly, wiping at your face with the heel of your hand.

but you knew why.

there had been something in his voice, something in the way he looked at you. he spoke as if he knew you, as if he had been waiting for you.

and now he was gone.

your chest tightened, a grief so raw and sudden that it almost took your breath away. how could you feel this way for someone who had stormed in and left without so much as a name?

you clenched your fists, your nails biting into your palms. “why didn’t i stop him?” you muttered to yourself, the frustration bubbling to the surface. you should have done something, anything, to keep him there, to demand answers to the questions that now haunted you.

but you didn’t. and now, all you had was an empty dressing room and a gnawing ache that wouldn’t go away.

you closed your eyes, the memory of his face flashing behind your eyelids. there had been something so familiar about him, something that made your heart ache even now.

who was he?

and why did it feel like losing him was the greatest tragedy of your life?

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the small cafe was quiet, a sanctuary away from the chaos of your everyday life. the hum of soft chatter and the gentle clink of cups were a soothing background as you stared at the menu, pretending it was the most interesting thing in the world. the matcha latte was supposed to be your solace today. not a solution, but a temporary distraction from the gnawing emptiness in your chest.

then you felt it.

that same heaviness in the air, that same electric charge.

you didn’t need to turn around to know it was him. the man who had crashed into your world and disappeared just as quickly. your grip on the menu tightened as your pulse quickened.

slowly, you looked over your shoulder, and there he was. standing near the door, his crimson eyes fixed on you like he had known you’d be here. like he’d been searching for you all along.

the tension between you was palpable, a thousand unsaid words hanging in the space between. neither of you spoke, but the look in his eyes said enough. you needed to talk.

and now, here you were, sitting across from him in a corner booth. your cap and mask were still on, a feeble attempt to cling to anonymity. your hands rested on the table, dangerously close to his, as if your subconscious craved the contact your mind wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

his hands were larger than yours, decorated with black tattoos that curved and twisted like they belonged to something ancient and untouchable. his nails were sharp, almost claw-like, yet they didn’t scare you.

your own hands, smaller and calloused from years of training and performing, felt almost fragile in comparison. but there was a quiet strength in them too, a resilience that had carried you through the ups and downs of your career.

you didn’t know where to start. you couldn’t even find the words, but he didn’t seem to mind. his gaze was steady, almost unbearably intense, as if he was memorizing every detail of you all over again.

“you came back,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

he tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “i never left,” he said simply, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine.

you frowned, your fingers curling against the table. “what does that even mean? you disappeared. no one saw you leave that night.”

he exhaled slowly, his eyes briefly dropping to where your hands were resting — so close, yet not touching. “because no one was meant to,” he said, his tone soft but firm.

frustration bubbled up inside you, but it was laced with something else — something warmer. “who are you?” you asked, your voice trembling. “and why do i feel like i know you?”

he was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. when he finally spoke, his voice was lower, almost reverent. “you do know me. or at least, you used to.”

your chest tightened, the ache from before returning with a vengeance. “why does it feel like i’m grieving someone i don’t even remember?”

his hand shifted slightly, the tips of his fingers brushing yours so lightly that it was almost imperceptible. your breath caught, the touch sending a jolt of something raw and familiar through you.

“because you are,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “and so am i.”

you stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. there was so much you didn’t understand, but one thing was clear — this man, whoever he was, held answers to the questions that had haunted you for as long as you could remember.

“then help me understand,” you said softly, your voice laced with both desperation and hope.

his gaze softened, and for the first time, you saw something vulnerable in those crimson eyes. “i will,” he promised, his voice steady. “but it’s not an easy story to tell.”

you nodded, your fingers shifting just slightly closer to his, closing the already minuscule gap. “i’m listening.”

and for the first time in what felt like forever, the ache in your chest began to ease.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

sukuna remembered the first time he laid eyes on you, though he doubted you would recall it the same way. it had been an unremarkable day by his standards — a patrol of one of his many estates, more out of habit than necessity. the land was prosperous, the people obedient, and the daimyo appointed here hadn’t caused any notable stirrings.

but then, as his entourage approached the training grounds near the estate, his attention was drawn to a rider galloping across the field. the figure cut a striking image — your posture proud, your hands steady on the reins. you rode with skill, commanding the horse with practiced ease, and for a moment, sukuna almost dismissed you as another faceless warrior in his service.

then you fell.

it wasn’t a subtle tumble either. your horse reared slightly, startled by something unseen, and in the blink of an eye, you were unseated, hitting the ground with a thud that echoed even from a distance. sukuna’s men stiffened, unsure of whether to laugh or feign concern, but sukuna himself let out a sharp bark of laughter.

it wasn’t the kind of laugh that came when he watched enemies crumble under his might or when someone dared to challenge him. this was different — lighter, unguarded.

“a warrior brought to the ground by her own steed,” he drawled, his deep voice carrying across the field. his crimson eyes sparkled with something rare — genuine amusement.

you scrambled to your feet, brushing dirt off your clothes with quick, agitated movements. your face was flushed, whether from embarrassment or anger, he couldn’t tell, but the sight only deepened his grin.

his words reached you, and you froze, looking up sharply. it wasn’t difficult to spot him — he was a towering presence, clad in dark robes with his unmistakable tattoos marking his skin. the king of curses himself, watching you with an expression that was almost mocking.

your brows furrowed, and despite the clear difference in your statuses, you square your shoulders, tilting your chin up in defiance.

“i did not fall,” you said firmly, your voice steady despite the heat in your cheeks.

sukuna arched a brow, his grin widening. “is that so?” he said, his tone dripping with amusement. “and here i thought my eyes were deceiving me. perhaps the earth simply leapt up to greet you?”

your lips thinned, but you refused to back down. “the saddle was loose,” you replied, pulling your horse’s reins as you approached it. “a simple mistake, nothing more.”

his men exchanged glances, some barely holding back snickers, but sukuna held up a hand to silence them. his gaze never left you, his interest piqued.

“a simple mistake,” he repeated, his voice low and almost teasing. “and yet you wear your indignation like armor. tell me, do you always deny the obvious, or is it just when faced with your lord?”

you stiffened, your grip on the reins tightening. “i deny nothing,” you said, your tone sharper now. “but i will not be mocked, not even by you.”

silence fell over the field, the audacity of your words hanging in the air. anyone else would have been cut down where they stood for speaking to him like that, but sukuna found himself… amused.

you turned sharply, leading your horse away with determined strides. “if you’ll excuse me, my lord,” you called over your shoulder, your voice tight with frustration, “i have duties to attend to.”

he watched you go, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

“bold,” he murmured to himself, his voice carrying only to uraume, who stood at his side.

“foolish,” uraume replied flatly, though there was no missing the slight edge of disapproval in their tone.

“perhaps,” sukuna said, his gaze lingering on your retreating figure. “but foolishness is far more entertaining than obedience.”

later, he learned your name. he learned that you were the daimyo appointed to oversee this estate, selected by uraume themselves for your loyalty and reliability.

but it wasn’t loyalty or reliability that interested him. it was the fire in your eyes, the way you stormed off without looking back, the sheer audacity to stand tall in front of him despite the yawning chasm of power between you.

“interesting,” he had murmured that day, more to himself than to anyone else.

and in the days that followed, he found himself returning to that estate more often than was necessary, under the guise of ensuring its prosperity. in truth, it wasn’t the land or the people he cared for — it was you.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the title of daimyo had not been handed to you — it was a role you had earned through sheer determination and relentless hard work. it was no small feat for a woman to rise to such a position, and you owed much of it to uraume, who, despite their often sharp demeanor, had seen something in you worth trusting.

“boldness isn’t the same as foolishness,” uraume had once said when they appointed you, their words clipped and eyes cool. “but tread carefully. the king is not known for his patience.”

you hadn’t exactly kept that in mind when you first met the king. the memory of your words and actions made you panic even now, weeks later. to stand tall in defiance of the king of curses? to argue with him over something as trivial as falling off a horse? foolish was an understatement.

“you’re lucky to still be breathing,” uraume had remarked when you’d recounted the incident, their tone a mix of exasperation and incredulity.

and they were right. the more you thought about it, the more you realized how dangerously close you had come to overstepping. so when word reached you that sukuna was to patrol the estate again, your nerves frayed at the edges. you resolved to be different this time, to show the respect that was expected of you.

when his entourage arrived, you greeted him with a deep bow, your tone subdued as you welcomed him to the estate. you kept your gaze low, your demeanor quiet.

it didn’t take long for sukuna to notice the change. his crimson eyes narrowed as he observed you, his expression unreadable but heavy with something that felt like dissatisfaction.

“you’ve changed,” he said bluntly, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

you swallowed, keeping your head bowed. “i have reflected on my behavior, my lord,” you said carefully, your voice steady despite the tension in the air.

sukuna’s gaze bore into you, and the weight of his attention was almost unbearable. “reflected,” he repeated, his tone sharp with mockery. “and decided what? to cower like a whipped dog?”

your breath caught in your throat, but you didn’t dare respond.

he scoffed, the sound low and disdainful. “pathetic. where is the woman who stormed off in defiance, who claimed the saddle was loose? where is the fire?”

your head snapped up, surprise flickering across your face. “my lord?”

his lips curled into a smirk, though there was no amusement in it. “if you think i spared you because i want another obedient puppet, you are sorely mistaken,” he said, his voice low and cutting. “live as you were, with that stubbornness and defiance. but know your place.”

you blinked at him, your mind reeling. was this… approval?

sukuna turned on his heel, his robes billowing as he strode away. the air seemed to lighten with his departure, and you found yourself exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

a small smile tugged at your lips, and you quickly pressed them together to suppress it. still, your head felt lighter, your chest less constricted.

“know your place,” you muttered under your breath, mimicking his tone. and for the first time in weeks, you felt a little more like yourself.

your head held higher, you watched him leave, the weight of fear easing just enough to let a sliver of confidence shine through.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

it was no secret that the king of curses rarely lingered in one place for long — his attention span as fleeting as a passing storm. yet, for reasons only he could justify (or perhaps couldn’t), sukuna spent more time at your estate than his own court, a fact that didn’t escape the whispers of those around you. no one dared to call you his favorite, of course; favoritism wasn’t a concept to be associated with a king as ruthless as him. yet, the pattern of his visits made it hard to deny.

“show me around,” he demanded one afternoon, his voice carrying the weight of authority as he stood at the edge of the estate.

you paused, glancing at him with a mixture of confusion and exasperation. “my lord, this is your estate,” you pointed out, your tone measured but with a faint edge of teasing. “surely you know it better than anyone.”

his crimson eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flashing through them. “did i stutter?”

you sighed, realizing it was futile to argue. whether bound by duty or something far more perplexing, you relented, gesturing for him to follow. “very well,” you said, leading the way.

despite your reservations, sukuna seemed unusually at ease during these tours. he didn’t bark orders or glare with his usual intensity. instead, he followed closely, his eyes lingering on you more often than the landscape. and though he’d never admit it, his steps slowed whenever you stopped to admire something, as though he were more interested in your reactions than the scenery itself.

at one point, you passed the estate’s orchards, the branches heavy with ripe fruit. you paused, the sight momentarily breaking through your careful composure.

“shall i have someone pick some for you, my lord?” you offered, gesturing to the trees.

sukuna crossed his arms, his lips curling into a smirk. “no,” he said, his voice low and almost teasing. “you’ll do it.”

your brows furrowed, confused by the demand. “me?”

he stepped closer, his towering presence impossible to ignore. “it tastes sweeter when you do,” he said simply, as though it were the most logical thing in the world.

you blinked at him, unsure whether to be flustered or annoyed. his gaze didn’t waver, and with a resigned sigh, you plucked a fruit from the nearest branch and held it out to him.

he took it, his sharp claws brushing against your fingers as he did, and for a moment, the air felt heavier. you didn’t look up, focusing instead on the ground, but you could feel his gaze burning into you.

“acceptable,” he said after taking a bite, his tone nonchalant but his eyes betraying a flicker of satisfaction.

then there were the horseback races. what started as an offhand comment about your riding skills turned into an almost ritualistic challenge.

“again,” sukuna barked one day, his voice ringing with competitive fervor as you both slowed your horses after yet another lap around the estate.

you panted, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face as you shot him a glare. “are you ever satisfied, my lord?”

“not yet,” he replied, his smirk widening as he urged his horse forward again.

you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you as you gave chase, the wind whipping past your face. the exhilaration of the race, the pounding of hooves against the ground — it was intoxicating. and though you tried to focus on the path ahead, you felt his eyes on you the entire time.

“don’t fall this time,” he teased, his voice carrying over the rush of wind.

you turned your head just enough to shoot him a playful glare. “only if you can keep up,” you shot back.

his laughter — low, deep, and genuine — rumbled behind you, and for a fleeting moment, it felt as though the weight of his title had been stripped away. he wasn’t the king of curses, and you weren’t just a daimyo. you were two souls caught in a moment of reckless freedom, the lines between duty and affection blurring with each race and shared glance.

was this flirting? you weren’t sure. but whatever it was, it made your chest feel lighter and your heart race faster, though whether from the thrill of the ride or his gaze, you couldn’t say.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

romance was a phrase people threw around with ease — quiet evenings, shared whispers, fleeting touches. but for you and the king of curses, it was something far more visceral. your unspoken language was in the clash of blades, in the crackling tension of your sparring matches, where sweat dripped, breaths mingled, and the world narrowed down to just the two of you.

your blade met his with a ringing clash, the sheer force of his strikes reverberating through your bones. sukuna’s strength was monstrous, his skill unmatched, and you knew he was holding back. his smirk as he parried your blows told you as much.

“is that all, little daimyo?” he teased, his voice dripping with mockery as he sidestepped your next strike with infuriating ease.

you didn’t answer, too focused on the swing of your blade, the shifting of your weight as you lunged again. the cuts on your arms and legs stung, a testament to his superiority, but you refused to yield.

“persistent, aren’t you?” he said, amusement dancing in his crimson eyes as he deflected yet another attack.

you glared at him, panting. “someone has to keep you in check, my lord.”

his laughter boomed, loud and unapologetic, as he disarmed you with a flick of his wrist. your sword clattered to the ground, and before you could react, he swept your legs out from under you. you hit the dirt with a dull thud, the wind knocked from your lungs.

he loomed over you, his broad frame casting a shadow as he planted his blade into the ground beside you. leaning forward, he rested an arm casually on his knee, his expression caught somewhere between triumph and amusement.

“checkmate,” he drawled, the corners of his mouth tugging into a smirk.

you groaned, your body aching from the strain of the fight, and stared up at him. “you’re impossible.”

and then, it happened. neither of you knew what sparked it — perhaps it was the absurdity of it all, the sight of you battered and bruised yet unyielding, or the way he, the king of curses, had momentarily shed his ruthless demeanor.

you laughed.

it started as a small chuckle, then grew into something deeper, uncontrollable. the sound bubbled from your chest, raw and unrestrained.

sukuna stared at you for a moment, his smirk faltering. then, to your astonishment, his own laughter joined yours. it was deep and resonant, free of mockery or menace. just laughter, pure and unrestrained, as though the weight of his title and your station had been lifted, leaving only two souls in the moment.

“you’re insane,” you said between breaths, still laughing as you wiped the blood from your lip.

“says the one who challenges me to fights they can’t win,” he shot back, his grin broadening.

and for that fleeting moment, it didn’t matter that you were lying on the ground, bruised and exhausted, or that he was the most feared being to walk the earth. there was no need for declarations, no flowery words to bind the two of you together. it just was.

the unspoken bond, forged not in tender touches or whispered confessions but in steel and resolve, felt stronger than anything else. and as your laughter faded into a shared silence, you felt it — that indescribable understanding that, in this chaotic, violent world, you had found something rare. something that just was.

dust settled on the sparring ground, the aftermath of your brutal yet exhilarating match with the king of curses. sukuna loomed over you, the faintest sheen of sweat on his brow, though he was far from winded. meanwhile, you lay sprawled in the dirt, catching your breath.

"get up," he said, his tone a little softer than usual, offering a hand down to you.

you blinked up at him, hesitant. “i can manage, my lord.”

“don’t argue,” he grumbled, his hand unwavering.

reluctantly, you reached up. his hand engulfed yours, rough with calluses and strong enough to crush bones, yet his grip was surprisingly gentle as he pulled you upright. for a fleeting moment, his fingers lingered on yours, tracing the small scars and nicks etched into your palms.

you didn’t think much of it at first, brushing dirt off your armor. but then —

“rear my children.”

you froze. your head snapped up to meet his crimson eyes, which for once seemed to betray a flicker of uncertainty. “...excuse me?”

he cleared his throat, looking distinctly uncomfortable — a rare sight for someone who usually exuded unwavering confidence. “i mean — you’re strong,” he blurted out, his words rushed and awkward. “your resolve, your... grit. admirable qualities. for a mother. of warriors. my warriors.”

your face heated instantly, the flush creeping up to your ears. “m-my lord, that’s… a rather sudden proposal!”

“it’s not a proposal!” he shot back, his voice raising an octave, uncharacteristically defensive. “just… an observation. a logical one. who wouldn’t want strong heirs?”

you stammered, trying and failing to form coherent words. “i — well — that’s —”

“it’s practical,” he continued, as if convincing himself more than you. “you’re disciplined. resilient. not to mention... stubborn as hell.”

“and you think stubbornness is a good trait in a mother?” you finally managed to ask, your voice squeaking slightly.

he faltered, his ears reddening ever so slightly. “well, it’s not... bad.”

the two of you stood there, the tension thick enough to cut with a blade. sukuna, the fearsome king of curses, was fidgeting. his hand still lingered on yours, and it felt like the entire world had gone quiet save for the sound of your racing heart.

“what do you say?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost tentative.

you blinked rapidly, trying to process what was happening. “i — uh — ”

and then it hit you, the absurdity of it all. the great and terrible sukuna was asking — no, suggesting — something so utterly domestic and human. you couldn’t help but let out a small, breathless laugh, burying your face in your free hand to hide the burning flush on your cheeks.

“is that a no?” he asked, his tone bristling with the faintest hint of impatience, though the uncertainty in his eyes betrayed him.

“i didn’t say that!” you squeaked, peeking through your fingers.

he raised a brow, his smirk creeping back into place, though it was softer than usual. “then what are you saying?”

you groaned, unable to meet his gaze as you mumbled through your hands, “i’m… not opposed.”

for a moment, the world seemed to pause. sukuna tilted his head, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he were suppressing a smile.

“not opposed, huh?” he repeated, his voice low, almost teasing.

“don’t make me say it again!” you snapped, your embarrassment reaching its peak.

“hmm,” he mused, finally letting go of your hands, though the warmth of his touch lingered. “practical indeed.”

as you glared at him, still flustered beyond belief, he turned away, his back to you. he was clearly trying to act unaffected, but the faint upward curve of his lips gave him away.

and sukuna? he thought to himself with the faintest hint of pride, maybe smiling isn’t so bad after all.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

how you went from a daimyo to the wife of the king of curses, you couldn’t quite fathom. one day, you were overseeing harvests and managing disputes, and the next, you were draped in silks too fine for your roughened hands, adjusting to the weight of a title you never sought.

sukuna, however, seemed unbothered by the incongruity of it all. he had simply decided that you were to be his wife, and what sukuna decided became reality. your hesitant protests, your concerns about abandoning your duties to the estate — none of it phased him.

“then stay here,” he’d said with a dismissive wave of his hand, as if it were the simplest solution in the world. “i’ll come to you when i wish.”

uraume, ever the loyal servant, had been aghast. they didn’t voice it, of course, but their disapproval was palpable. yet beneath their furrowed brow and pursed lips, there was a flicker of something else — pride. pride that their lord, fearsome and untouchable, had chosen someone with your mettle.

you were still adjusting to your new role when sukuna visited the estate for the first time as your husband. he was unceremonious about it, arriving without warning, striding into your chambers as if it were his rightful place.

“what’s this?” he asked, eyeing the bright silk robe draped over your shoulders.

“your people insisted,” you replied, tugging self-consciously at the fabric.

he snorted, crossing his arms as his gaze swept over you. “you look like a peacock.”

you froze, your grip tightening on the sash. “a peacock?” you repeated, your tone dangerously low.

“hmm,” he mused, leaning lazily against the doorframe. “not a bad thing. regal, loud, a bit ridiculous — suits you.”

your glare could have set the silk ablaze. “is this your idea of flattery, my lord?”

he chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that made your cheeks burn. “only telling the truth.”

“then here’s some truth for you,” you shot back, your voice sharp as a blade. “perhaps you should spend more time governing your lands and less time critiquing my attire.”

for a moment, there was silence. then, to your astonishment, sukuna laughed — a genuine, unrestrained laugh that echoed through the room.

“bold as ever,” he said, stepping closer. his crimson eyes softened ever so slightly as he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “it’s what i like about you.”

your breath hitched at the unexpected intimacy, but before you could respond, he pulled away, his smirk firmly back in place.

“come,” he said, turning toward the door. “there’s work to be done.”

and just like that, your marriage was sealed — not with a grand ceremony or a formal declaration, but with sharp words, shared laughter, and a silent understanding that spoke volumes.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

uraume had been left in charge of state matters, their protests falling on deaf ears as sukuna waved them off with a smug grin. "you’re competent enough to handle it," he’d said, the dismissiveness in his tone making uraume's temples throb. they could only bow in grudging acceptance, watching their king stride off to the estate like a man with nothing but time on his hands.

his first night as your husband was spent testing your patience. “it’s tradition,” he declared with a grin that was more wolfish than charming. “we’re supposed to consummate the marriage.”

you had stared at him, unimpressed. “it’s tradition to do so willingly. i don’t see any willing party here.”

his grin faltered, replaced by a mock glare. “a king shouldn’t have to beg his wife.”

“then don’t.”

his brow twitched at your quick retort, and though he tried to argue further, your unyielding stare — a mix of warrior resolve and exhausted defiance — silenced him. eventually, he grumbled, “fine. no bedding. but you’ll sleep here, with me.”

you’d crossed your arms. “on opposite sides of the bed.”

“skin to skin,” he countered, clearly enjoying the bargaining.

“over my dead body.”

“bold of you to assume i wouldn’t oblige.”

the back-and-forth ended with a compromise that involved his bare chest pressed against your back, his arms draped over you like iron shackles. “this is hardly ‘opposite sides,’” you muttered as you felt his warm breath on the nape of your neck.

“you’re warm,” he murmured, his tone almost soft, and that was the end of it.

or so he thought. because the king of curses, who had never known caution, underestimated the awareness of a daimyo — a warrior trained to detect even the faintest signs of an enemy’s advance. when his hand began to creep lower towards your legs during the night, you intercepted it with a grip so firm that his eyes snapped open in shock.

“don’t push your luck, my lord,” you whispered without turning, your voice cutting through the dark like a blade.

to his credit, he chuckled, more impressed than annoyed. “fine,” he relented, withdrawing his hand. “you win this time.”

morning came, the soft light of dawn spilling into the room. sukuna, who rarely stayed still for long, remained entangled with you, his larger frame curled protectively around your smaller one. for the first time in centuries, his guard was down. and when your lips parted to murmur his name — soft and reverent, like a prayer — he froze.

“...sukuna.”

it was just a whisper, but it held a weight that he couldn’t explain. something in his chest tightened, a foreign warmth spreading through him as he stared at your peaceful face, your lashes fluttering against your cheek.

“damn you,” he muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with awe.

because for all his conquests and power, for all the women who had once vied for his attention, none had ever made him feel like this. none had ever whispered his name like it was a blessing, like it was sacred.

and in that moment, as he held you closer, sukuna knew — he had never loved a woman the way he loved you.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the days following your marriage passed with an ease that felt both strange and natural. your routines remained the same in essence — horse-riding through the vast lands, plucking the ripest fruits from the orchards, and patrolling the estate to ensure its prosperity — but now, there was a shared intimacy, a silent acknowledgment that you were no longer alone in these moments. sukuna accompanied you everywhere, his presence both imposing and comforting.

you’d ride side by side, your horses kicking up dust as laughter rang out in the open air. sukuna, who once considered these lands beneath his attention, now seemed to find joy in every mundane detail of life here.

“you’re slipping,” you teased him one afternoon, presenting a basket filled with fruits you had picked before he could even dismount his horse.

he huffed, feigning annoyance. “don’t get cocky, woman. i let you win.”

“of course you did,” you replied with a smirk, your eyes gleaming with playful defiance.

on other days, you hunted together. sukuna, ever the showman, would present his kills to you with exaggerated grandeur. “a token for my wife,” he’d declare, dropping a stag at your feet.

you’d roll your eyes, refusing to be outdone. “wait here,” you’d say before vanishing into the woods, returning hours later with a kill just as impressive, if not more so.

“not bad,” he’d admit, the amusement in his tone thinly veiling his pride in you.

“not bad?” you echoed, placing your hands on your hips. “i’ve bested the king of curses himself, and all you can say is not bad?”

“careful, wife,” he warned, though his grin betrayed no real malice. “keep this up, and i might actually start trying.”

nights were a different kind of ritual. after the day's activities, the two of you would collapse onto the bed, the exhaustion of the day settling into your bones. his arm would always find its way around you, pulling you close, as if ensuring you wouldn’t slip away in the night.

one evening, as you lay in his embrace, he traced the scars on your body with calloused fingers, his touch unusually gentle. “these,” he murmured, “are the marks of a warrior.”

you shivered at the sensation but didn’t pull away. “and yours?” you asked, brushing your lips over a jagged scar on his chest. “what do they mean?”

“they’re the marks of a man who’s lived too long,” he replied, his voice low.

you didn’t respond immediately, instead pressing your lips to each scar, as if trying to soothe the pain they carried. when you finally spoke, your voice was soft but firm. “then let me be the reason you stop living like that.”

his breath hitched, but he said nothing, instead pulling you closer.

sukuna laid beneath you, a sight so rare it could have brought the gods themselves to their knees. his broad chest rose and fell in a rhythm that betrayed his composure, his usually piercing gaze softened by an emotion he couldn’t name. vulnerability. no one had ever dared to see him like this, and yet, here you were — your lips trailing over every scar, each one kissed with a reverence that made his heart clench in ways foreign to him.

you felt his muscles tense under your touch, his hands resting on your hips like anchors, grounding himself as he surrendered to the moment. he wasn't used to this — not the softness, not the unguarded exposure. “woman,” he rasped, his voice gravelly, laced with something between a warning and a plea. “don’t you dare stop.”

“i wouldn’t dream of it,” you murmured against his skin, your lips brushing over a deep scar that cut across his side. your voice was steady, but your heart pounded. this was no king of curses before you, no tyrant capable of untold destruction. this was sukuna, your husband, your equal.

his grip on your hips tightened as your lips traveled lower, tracing the ridges of his abdomen. every kiss you placed felt like a silent vow, a promise to love him not despite his scars but because of them. they were proof of his survival, of everything he had endured, and you wanted to cherish each one.

“why?” he asked suddenly, his voice cracking slightly. his crimson eyes searched yours, vulnerable and uncertain. “why do you... look at me like this? like i’m...”

“like you’re human?” you finished for him, your lips curving into a small, gentle smile. “because you are. to me, you’re not a king or a curse. you’re mine, sukuna. and i’ll love every part of you, even the parts you hate.”

he exhaled sharply, a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “bold words,” he muttered, his gaze darting away as if embarrassed. “but i’m not complaining.”

“good,” you replied, leaning down to kiss another scar near his hip. “because i mean every word.”

his breath hitched as you continued your ministrations, your touch both worshipful and tantalizing. the coil of heat in his stomach grew, blending with the unfamiliar ache in his chest. it was maddening — how you could make him feel both powerful and utterly powerless at the same time.

“you’re a menace,” he grumbled, his gruff tone betraying the faintest hint of affection.

you laughed softly, your hands sliding up to cup his face. “and you’re mine to please tonight, husband. no arguments.”

his eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to still. “yours,” he murmured, the word heavy with meaning. and as you leaned down to kiss him, he let himself believe it. tonight, he was yours — in every sense of the word.

for all the confidence sukuna wielded on the battlefield — his presence commanding, his strikes calculated and devastating — soft intimacy found him at a loss. it was a battlefield of another kind, one he wasn’t sure how to navigate. his lips moved against yours with a clumsiness that was foreign to him, and though his brow furrowed in frustration, you didn’t pull away.

instead, you smiled softly against his lips, the curve of it so gentle it could’ve brought him to his knees if he hadn’t already been lying down. your hands squeezed his shoulders, your touch warm and grounding, a silent assurance that it was okay. okay to fumble, okay to feel, okay to let himself be vulnerable.

his hands roamed your back, hesitant but firm, the sharp edges of his claws barely grazing your skin as if he feared breaking you. “this... feels different,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly, tinged with an uncertainty that felt out of place coming from a man like him.

you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your fingers brushing against his jawline. “it’s not supposed to feel like a fight, sukuna,” you said softly, your voice carrying both patience and affection. “it’s okay to take your time. it’s just us.”

just us. the simplicity of those words hit him harder than any blade ever could. no title, no battlefield, no kingdom to rule — just the two of you, bare and unguarded in the quiet of the night.

he huffed softly, his lips quirking upward in a half-smile, half-grimace. “you’re annoyingly patient,” he said, though there was no bite to his words.

“someone has to be,” you replied, the teasing lilt in your voice making his chest ache in a way he didn’t know was possible.

the cicadas outside filled the silence, their rhythmic song blending with the occasional call of an owl. the night air was warm, but the heat between your two bodies was something else entirely. every brush of your skin against his, every whispered breath, felt amplified in the stillness.

when you leaned down again, your lips meeting his once more, he let himself relax into it. his hands found your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. and though he still fumbled — his movements rough around the edges, his breaths uneven — you didn’t falter.

instead, you guided him with your touch, your lips, your presence. it wasn’t rushed, nor was it perfect, but it didn’t need to be. for sukuna, this wasn’t about dominance or conquest. it was about trust, about letting himself be seen in a way he had never allowed anyone else to see him before.

sukuna wasn’t sure what surprised him more — the way his breath hitched when you lined him against yourself or the way his heart felt like it was being split open in the process. this wasn’t like the countless nights he’d spent with others, pursuing pleasure with little regard for who shared his bed. no, this was different. you were different.

as you sank down onto him, your movements slow and deliberate, his hands gripped your hips like a lifeline, his claws digging in just enough to leave faint impressions on your skin. his eyes were glued to you, watching the way your face shifted with every inch, the trust in your gaze piercing through every layer of armor he’d ever worn.

“fuck,” he muttered, his voice rough and low, almost trembling. “you’re... gods, you’re perfect. too perfect for me.”

your hands rested on his chest for balance, your fingertips brushing against the hardened muscles there. his body tensed beneath you, but his gaze softened.

“look at you,” he rasped, his words a reverent whisper, like a prayer to a deity he didn’t know he worshiped. “taking me like you were made for this — made for me.”

your movements began to pick up pace, and sukuna’s head tilted back, exposing the column of his throat. a strangled groan escaped him, and his grip on your hips tightened.

“so fucking good,” he growled, his crimson eyes locking onto yours once more. “you’re everything. everything i didn’t even know i needed.”

his words spilled from his lips like a hymn, unfiltered and raw. “do you know what you’re doing to me? huh? riding me like this, making me feel like... like i'll fucking lose my mind.”

your lips parted to respond, but all that came out was a gasp as his hands guided you faster, his own hips rolling upward to meet yours. his praise didn’t stop, each word more desperate and sincere than the last.

“strong,” he murmured, his voice strained, “beautiful, powerful... fuck, you’re going to ruin me, aren’t you? my queen.”

that title sent a shiver down your spine, and sukuna smirked, though it quickly faltered into a low groan as you clenched around him.

“that’s it,” he encouraged, his tone almost begging now. “take what’s yours. claim it. claim me.”

the heat built between you, and sukuna felt the familiar coil of pleasure in his abdomen, but this time, it wasn’t just physical. it was something deeper, something terrifyingly profound.

when the two of you finally reached your peak, his voice broke into a string of curses and your name, uttered like it was the most sacred thing in the world. and then, in the blissful haze that followed, as you collapsed onto his chest, both of your breaths ragged and uneven, the words spilled from both of your lips in unison.

“i love you.”

sukuna stilled beneath you, his body frozen for a moment before his arms wrapped around you, pulling you impossibly closer.

“say it again,” he demanded, his voice barely above a whisper, his vulnerability cracking through the rough edges.

you smiled against his skin, your voice soft but sure. “i love you.”

his chest rumbled with a sound that was part laugh, part groan. “i’ll never get tired of hearing that,” he admitted, his lips pressing against your temple. the king of curses held you like a treasure he never thought he’d deserve, vowing silently to never let you go.

the silence between you was profound, the kind that spoke louder than any words could. your fingers moved with purpose, trailing the contours of sukuna’s face as though committing every ridge, every line, to memory. with your eyes closed, you traced the edges of his sharp jaw, the slope of his nose, the scarred texture of his markings.

“even if i couldn’t see you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, “i’d know you. i’d remember you... just like this.”

sukuna’s breath hitched, his chest rising and falling beneath you, his body still intertwined with yours in every way. your words struck something deep within him, a part of himself he had buried under centuries of bloodlust and power.

“you’re a fool,” he murmured, though his voice lacked its usual bite. instead, it trembled, betraying a rawness he rarely let show. “thinking you could know me like that.”

your fingers stilled for a moment before resuming their path, brushing against the corners of his mouth, tracing the faintest curve of a smile that never fully formed.

“i already do,” you said softly, opening your eyes to meet his.

the sight that greeted you stopped your breath. his crimson eyes, always so fierce, were glistening, and a single tear had slipped down his cheek. it caught the dim light of the room, a testament to the vulnerability he so carefully guarded.

“ryo,” you murmured, the nickname escaping your lips without thought, carrying all the tenderness you felt for him.

his brows furrowed, as though he wanted to snap at you for daring to call him that, but the moment passed, and his features softened instead. his large hand came up to cover yours, pressing it firmly against his cheek as though grounding himself in your touch.

“don’t,” he said gruffly, though the break in his voice betrayed him. “don’t look at me like that.”

“like what?” you asked, your tone gentle, though your eyes held a mix of curiosity and concern.

“like i’m human,” he admitted, the words tumbling out like a confession. “like i... like i don’t deserve it.”

your heart ached at his admission, and you leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his. the warmth of his skin against yours was grounding, and you let your eyes flutter shut once more.

“you’re more human than anyone will ever know,” you murmured. “more human than you let yourself believe.”

for a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of your words settling over the both of you. sukuna’s grip on you tightened, and he shifted slightly, still buried inside you, as though seeking reassurance in the way your bodies connected.

“you make me weak,” he finally said, his tone low and rough, but there was no anger in it.

“no,” you corrected, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze again. “i make you strong, because you can finally feel.”

another tear slipped from his eye, and you caught it with your thumb, your touch light and reverent. and for the first time in centuries, the king of curses didn’t feel like a monster, but a man — flawed, vulnerable, and utterly, devastatingly human.

the realization hit sukuna like a blow, an overwhelming surge of emotions he couldn't entirely name, but he knew one thing with certainty — you were his. utterly and completely his. his breaths were heavy, his crimson eyes fixed on you, still straddling him, your bodies joined in a way that left no room for ambiguity. every scar on his body, every ounce of power he held, paled in comparison to the sheer force of this truth.

and yet, that vulnerability — the unfamiliar, maddening softness you evoked in him — made him pause, his grip on your hips slackening for just a moment. you tilted your head, brows furrowed as you asked gently, “ryo... what’s wrong? you look so... lost.”

your voice was soft, concerned, and it cut through the haze of his thoughts. but sukuna couldn’t hear the words, not really. the blood roared in his ears, not with the adrenaline of battle but with something far more primal, far more consuming.

he didn’t answer. instead, his hands gripped your waist with renewed fervor, flipping you onto your back in one fluid motion. you gasped, wide-eyed as he loomed over you, his gaze dark and intense.

“you’re mine,” he growled, his voice low and hoarse, more a declaration than a statement. “say it.”

your lips parted, the weight of his words sinking in as your chest rose and fell beneath him. “i... of course, i’m yours.”

it was all he needed to hear. his hips snapped forward, his movements rough yet oddly tender, like he was caught in a battle between possessing you completely and cherishing you wholly. you cried out, your hands flying to his shoulders, clutching him as if he were the only anchor in the storm he was unleashing within you.

“you’re mine,” he repeated, each thrust driving the point home, as if trying to fuse the words into your very being. “say it again. let me hear it.”

“i’m yours,” you whispered, then louder, more sure, “i’m yours, ryo. always.”

his face softened for the briefest moment, but the intensity in his movements never wavered. “you’ll bear my children, won’t you?” he demanded, his voice laced with a desperation he didn’t even try to hide. “tell me you’ll give me a family.”

your eyes locked onto his, your hands cupping his face despite the heat building between you. “yes, ryo. a family. yours. always yours.”

something in him snapped at your words, and his pace quickened, his movements growing more fervent, more insistent. his forehead pressed against yours, and his words became a litany of possession, devotion, and need.

“mine,” he murmured, his voice cracking with the weight of emotion. “all of you — mine. no one else will ever touch you. no one else will ever have you.”

“no one else,” you agreed breathlessly, your voice trembling as you tightened around him, your own body responding to his unrelenting claim.

and when he finally stilled, his body shuddering as he came inside you, the sheer force of it leaving him breathless, he whispered one final time, “mine.”

you pulled him down into an embrace, your hands stroking his back as he lay atop you, his breath warm against your skin.

“always yours, ryo,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his ear.

and in that moment, with your words and your touch grounding him, sukuna realized that there could never be another for him. you were his salvation, his obsession, his everything. and he would claim you, over and over again, for all eternity.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

love was a funny thing. it crept in quietly, weaving itself into the mundane and the extraordinary until it became inseparable from life itself. it wasn’t always grand declarations or sweeping gestures, though those had their place. sometimes, love was as simple as sukuna rising earlier than usual to make you breakfast, grumbling about how you should “stop being so bloody picky about the eggs,” while still serving them perfectly to your taste. or it was you spending hours grooming his prized horse, treating it with the same care and respect as if it were your own, much to sukuna’s begrudging admiration.

but this time, love took the form of a life yet to come. it began with the subtle signs — your monthly cycle vanishing, a tiredness that wasn’t quite normal, and a growing fullness in your being that was unmistakable. the realization hit you one morning, and though the weight of it could have been daunting, it only filled you with excitement. the thought of a child — a piece of you and sukuna — made your heart swell.

would it be a girl, blessed with your grace and wit, or a boy, inheriting his father’s untamed strength? perhaps both, their traits melding into something new and extraordinary. only time would tell, but the mere thought of it was enough to have you practically vibrating with anticipation.

that evening, sukuna arrived at the estate after a grueling day at court. his shoulders were tense, his usual commanding presence slightly dulled by exhaustion. you spotted him from the balcony, and by the time he stepped into the hall, you were already bounding toward him, your excitement practically bubbling over.

“what’s got you all worked up?” he teased, though the corners of his lips twitched in amusement at your giddiness.

“you’ll see,” you replied cryptically, taking his hand and pulling him toward your quarters.

he allowed himself to be led, curiosity piqued despite his fatigue. once inside, you turned to face him, your hands trembling slightly as they rested on his chest. his crimson eyes searched yours, his brows furrowed in confusion at your sudden quiet.

“ryo,” you began, your voice soft but steady, “i have something to tell you.”

his expression shifted, a flicker of worry crossing his features. “what is it? out with it already.”

you took a deep breath, your lips curving into a smile as you placed a hand over your abdomen. “i’m pregnant.”

the words hung in the air for a moment, the weight of them sinking in. sukuna’s eyes widened slightly, the faintest trace of disbelief flickering across his face before it was replaced with something softer — something rare.

“you’re... carrying my child?” he asked, his voice low and almost reverent.

you nodded, your smile widening. “yes. our child.”

for a moment, he was silent, his crimson gaze fixed on you as if trying to memorize every detail of your face in this moment. and then, to your surprise, a rare smile graced his lips.

“you,” he murmured, pulling you close, one large hand cradling the back of your head while the other rested protectively over your stomach. “you’ve given me something no victory ever could.”

you laughed softly, burying your face in his chest as his arms wrapped around you. “i thought you’d be more... theatrical about it,” you teased, your voice muffled against him.

he chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. “don’t push your luck, woman. i’m still the king of curses.”

“the king of curses,” you echoed, looking up at him with a smirk, “and soon to be the father of a child who’ll probably have your temper.”

he scoffed but couldn’t hide the warmth in his gaze as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “then we’ll raise them to be stronger than either of us. someone the world will fear — and love.”

in that moment, with his hand resting over your womb and a future unfolding before you, neither of you could imagine life any other way. this was love, in its purest and most profound form, and sukuna, for all his power and pride, had never felt richer than he did now.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

motherhood wasn’t something you had ever envisioned for yourself. you had spent your life leading soliders, strategizing in courts, and ruling your estate with the iron will of a daimyo. being a wife had been an adjustment in itself, but now? now you were a mother too. or at least, soon to be.

your days of riding through the fields and sparring with the guards had been replaced by cautious walks and hushed admonishments from the trusted servants sukuna had personally assigned to you. they weren’t just women — they were warriors, chosen to protect you and ensure you didn’t overextend yourself. but they could do little against your stubbornness, often having to physically steer you back inside when you ventured too far or pushed yourself too hard.

you hated the idea of being confined, of being seen as fragile, but the truth was unavoidable. carrying the child of the king of curses was not just an honor; it was a burden that demanded more from you than any battle ever had.

even if you wouldn’t admit it, you felt it — the constant exhaustion, the strange pull in your body as it adapted to accommodate this new life. was this child mortal, like you? or would they inherit their father’s immense power, the blood of a sorcerer coursing through their veins?

you often pondered these questions during the quiet hours of the night, your hands resting protectively over your belly. whatever the answer, one thing was certain: you would love this child fiercely. and sukuna? he would love them too, even if he didn’t yet know how to express it. and if he faltered, you’d teach him, just as you’d taught him what it meant to love you.

sukuna, for his part, had insisted time and again that you should come to his main estate. “it’s closer to the court,” he argued one evening, his voice edged with frustration. “i can oversee your care personally.”

you shook your head, remaining firm. “ryo, this is unfamiliar territory for me. i need to be somewhere familiar while i navigate it.”

his crimson eyes narrowed, but there was a softness to his expression that belied his irritation. “stubborn woman,” he muttered, though there was no real bite to his words.

“you love me for it,” you countered, a small smirk tugging at your lips.

he grumbled something under his breath but didn’t press the matter further. instead, he reached out, his hand coming to rest over yours on your belly. his touch was uncharacteristically gentle, almost hesitant.

“just promise me,” he said quietly, “that you’ll call for me if you need anything. anything at all.”

you nodded, leaning into his touch. “i promise.”

and so, you stayed. familiarity surrounded you during this strange, transformative phase of your life. and while sukuna begrudgingly relented to your wishes, he visited often, ensuring he was never too far away. whether it was to bring you fruits from the orchards you loved or to simply sit by your side and watch as your child grew within you, he was there.

you had been a daimyo all your life, a wife for only a brief period, and now a mother. the transition wasn’t seamless, but it was yours. and as unfamiliar as it all was, with sukuna by your side — even if he complained every step of the way — you knew you could face whatever lay ahead.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the months passed slowly, each one bringing your child closer to the world and sukuna further away. the growing unrest among the sorcerer clans demanded his attention, their attempts to topple him becoming more brazen with each passing week. you knew he hated leaving you, especially during such a critical time in both your lives, but the king of curses was nothing if not steadfast in his duty.

“they think they can end me,” sukuna sneered one evening, pacing the room as you watched him from your seat. your belly, round with the promise of your child, rested beneath your hands. “let them come. i’ll end their miserable bloodlines myself.”

you rolled your eyes, though you didn’t miss the tension in his jaw or the way his hands flexed into fists. “and you’d drag our child into it too, wouldn’t you?”

his crimson gaze snapped to you, a dark grin curling at the corners of his mouth. “of course. our child will grow to be strong — strong enough to make those sorcerers regret ever crossing me.”

you sighed, shaking your head. “you’re insufferable.”

“and yet, you chose me,” he quipped, though his tone lacked its usual sharpness.

but the truth of his absences was harder to bear than either of you let on. while he battled threats to his reign, you were left behind, surrounded by handmaids and servants who were loyal and attentive but could never fill the void his presence left. they tried reasoning with him, explaining that you were in no condition to make the arduous journey to his main estate, and while sukuna begrudgingly accepted their logic, it didn’t stop him from huffing and stomping out of the room like a frustrated child.

“damn stubborn woman,” he muttered under his breath one such evening, though not so quietly that you couldn’t hear him.

“takes one to know one,” you shot back, leaning against the doorframe with a frown.

he glared at you, though the heat in his eyes softened as he took in your figure. his shoulders sagged slightly, the fight draining out of him as he crossed the room to stand before you.

“you’re impossible,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“and yet, you keep coming back,” you replied, resting a hand against his chest.

he didn’t answer, but the way his arms wrapped around you said more than words ever could.

late at night, when the estate was silent and the weight of his absences pressed heavily on both of you, sukuna would return to your side. his footsteps were quiet as he entered your chambers, careful not to disturb you as you slept. but you always woke when he did, your instincts sharper than ever as your body prepared for motherhood.

he’d settle beside you, pulling you close as he buried his face against your shoulder. “i hate leaving you,” he murmured, his voice raw with exhaustion and guilt.

“i know,” you whispered, threading your fingers through his hair.

“i’ll end this soon,” he promised, his grip on you tightening. “for you. for us.”

and though you knew it was a promise he couldn’t fully guarantee, the sincerity in his voice was enough. you turned to face him, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“just come back to me,” you said softly. “that’s all i ask.”

and he did, every time. no matter how far his battles took him or how heavy the weight of his crown became, sukuna always found his way back to you. because in the quiet of the night, with you in his arms and the promise of your child growing between you, he was reminded of the one thing that mattered more than power or victory — his family.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

“uraume...her highness… attacked...”

in that instant, sukuna's blood ran ice-cold. no further explanation was needed. his chair scraped harshly against the floor as he rose to his full height, the air thick with his suffocating fury. without a word, he stormed out, crimson eyes alight with a rage that made his retainers scatter like frightened mice. his strides were long, purposeful, the bile in his throat a constant reminder of what could await him.

when he arrived at your estate, the scene before him made the world tilt on its axis.

it was a battlefield. bodies littered the grounds — servants, guards, handmaids — all sprawled lifeless, their blood staining the earth. the once-pristine estate was in ruins, its walls splintered, its lush gardens reduced to barren desolation. the trees that bore fruit so abundantly now stood stripped, their branches bare and broken. the air reeked of death and decay, a stench that clawed its way into sukuna’s nose as his eyes darted, searching.

and then he saw you.

his daimyo, his wife, huddled in the center of the carnage, a blood-soaked uraume shielding you with the last vestiges of their strength. their once-proud posture was hunched, their breaths shallow as they clutched their blade with trembling hands. and you — oh gods, you.

you were slumped against a crumbling wall, your once-bright eyes concealed beneath a bloodied cloth tied crudely over your face. your body trembled, your hands pressed protectively to your swollen stomach.

“they took her sight,” uraume rasped, their voice weak but still burning with loyalty. they staggered, barely able to remain upright as the sorcerer clans circled, jeering and taunting, their eyes glinting with malice.

sukuna’s vision went red.

“what have you done?!” he roared, his voice thunderous as it split the air.

“the king of curses finally graces us,” one of the sorcerers sneered, raising their weapon. “your wife was a liability —”

they didn’t finish the sentence. sukuna’s claws ripped through their body in one fluid motion, blood spraying as the lifeless corpse hit the ground.

“none of you are leaving here alive,” sukuna snarled, his voice a venomous promise.

in the span of moments, chaos erupted. sukuna moved with the precision and ferocity of a man possessed, tearing through the assailants with brutal efficiency. his cursed energy crackled like lightning, obliterating anything in its path.

“you dare touch what is mine?” he bellowed, his fists crushing bone, his claws slicing through flesh. “i will rip every last one of you apart.”

one by one, the sorcerers fell, their arrogance extinguished by his wrath. sukuna barely registered their screams, his focus razor-sharp as he ended the lives of those who dared harm you.

amidst the carnage, uraume collapsed, their body crumpling to the ground as their strength finally gave out.

“uraume!” you screamed, your voice raw with desperation as you reached out blindly.

the sound of your cry snapped sukuna out of his bloodlust. the last of the sorcerers fell at his feet, their lifeless body joining the rest. the battlefield went eerily silent, save for the sound of your labored breaths.

sukuna knelt before you, his knees pressed into the blood-soaked earth, hands trembling as they hovered over your body. he didn’t know where to touch, how to start — your swollen belly, your trembling fingers, your face, now marked with the absence of those eyes that once pierced through him. his mind raced, frantic with a thousand thoughts, but none of them could drown out the truth hammering in his chest: you were slipping away.

"don’t," his voice cracked, low and raw, a plea that wasn’t supposed to exist in the vocabulary of the king of curses. “don’t you dare leave me, woman.”

you smiled faintly, lips dry and cracked but still unmistakably yours. your hands — gods, your hands, still steady despite your broken body — reached up, fingers grazing his jaw.

“sukuna,” you murmured, his name falling from your lips like a benediction. “i knew you’d come.”

“of course i came!” he snarled, the sharpness of his tone masking the panic beneath. “what kind of fool do you take me for? you’re mine. mine!”

your fingers moved with purpose, tracing the sharp edges of his face, his cheekbones, his chin, the ridges of his scars. your touch was deliberate, trembling but sure, mapping him like a cartographer immortalizing a sacred land.

“i told you,” you whispered, voice faint but steady. “even without my eyes... i’d find you.”

his chest constricted painfully. he grabbed your wrist, not harshly but firmly, as if grounding himself to you. “then find me now! stay with me, damn you!” his voice rose, a command that bordered on desperation.

your breath hitched, your hand stilling against his face. “'kuna… i’m so tired.”

“no.” his voice wavered for the first time. his hands moved to cup your face, forcing you to look at him — or at least, where his face should’ve been. “no, you don’t get to be tired. you don’t get to leave me.” his thumb brushed over your cheek, wiping away blood and dirt as though erasing the evidence of your suffering.

“look at me — listen to me!” his voice cracked again, his frustration bleeding through. “you are not allowed to die, you hear me? you are my wife, my daimyo, mother of my child. you don’t get to go!”

you smiled softly, that maddening, gentle smile of yours that he hated and loved in equal measure. “you’ll be fine without me,” you murmured, and his hands tightened against your face, claws digging slightly into your skin.

“don’t you dare say that,” he hissed, his voice trembling. “don’t you dare.”

your fingers resumed their exploration, your palm resting against his cheek now. “promise me you’ll take care of yourself,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“shut up,” he spat, but there was no malice in it, only the raw edge of panic. “you can tell me yourself when you wake up tomorrow. we need to name the kid together — argue about it if we have to.”

a weak chuckle escaped you, and the sound shattered something in him. “so stubborn,” you murmured.

“you’re calling me stubborn?” he bit out, leaning closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. “this from the woman who refused to come to the main estate even when —”

“shhhh,” you cut him off, your other hand weakly reaching up to rest against his chest. “kuna, let me… just let me…”

“don’t say goodbye,” he growled, his voice cracking as his claws dug into the ground beneath you, his cursed energy crackling wildly around him. “you don’t get to say goodbye.”

you didn’t listen. you never did.

“i love you,” you whispered, the words so soft they barely reached him, but he heard them all the same.

“don’t,” he choked, his voice barely above a whisper now.

“i love you,” you repeated, your hand falling limp against his chest.

and then you stilled.

“no,” sukuna breathed, his hands trembling as he shook you lightly. “no, no, no. you don’t get to — wake up!”

but you didn’t.

his hands curled into fists, claws tearing into the ground as his head fell forward, pressing against your cooling forehead.

“you promised me,” he rasped, his voice broken. “you said… you said you’d always find me.”

but the only sound that answered him was the faint rustle of the wind, carrying away the last remnants of your presence.

for the first time in his long, immortal life, ryomen sukuna felt what it truly meant to be alone. and for the first time, he wished he could be mortal — if only to follow you into the dark.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the battlefield was soaked in blood, a crimson sea stretching endlessly as the scent of death hung heavy in the air. sukuna stood at the center of it all, his figure drenched in gore, the sharp lines of his face painted with a grim expression. bodies lay scattered around him, lifeless and crumpled, their clans eradicated down to the last soul. his cursed energy crackled violently, an unrelenting storm that tore through everything in its wake.

he raised his hand, ready to summon another wave of destruction when something caught his eye — a pair of horses galloping in the far distance. they moved in tandem, their forms blurred by the heat rising from the blood-soaked ground. his breath hitched, his fingers twitching as he froze mid-motion.

a memory surged through him like a blade to his chest. faint laughter, the sound of hooves thundering against soft earth, and the warmth of a voice. your voice.

he lowered his hand slowly, the cursed energy dissipating with a low hum. his gaze fixed on the horses as they disappeared over the horizon, his chest tightening in a way he didn’t think was possible anymore.

“who… was it?” his voice cracked, the words barely audible, as if he feared shattering the fragile memory. his claws flexed, curling into fists at his sides. his heart, if it could still be called that, ached in a way that was both foreign and unbearable.

he stumbled back, for once his body feeling the weight of his own destruction. he wiped his face instinctively, only to realize his hands were trembling. “why… why does this memory hurt?” his voice was a growl now, anger and anguish intertwining.

he fell to his knees, staring at the ground beneath him. he could see the faintest outline of you — your smile, the way your hair caught the sun, the sound of your laughter as you challenged him to another race. the memory was fleeting, just like you, and it burned him from the inside out.

“who were you to me?” his words echoed into the emptiness, his cursed energy swirling weakly around him like a storm losing its strength.

the silence that followed mocked him. it wasn’t the triumphant roar of victory he was used to — it was hollow, deafening, and suffocating.

“damn it.” his claws tore into the ground, blood and dirt mixing under his nails. “why did you leave me? who gave you the right?”

but deep down, he knew it wasn’t your choice. it never was.

millennia of violence, rage, and destruction had never slowed him. yet now, as his mind clung desperately to the shadow of a memory, he found himself rooted in place. unmoving.

the horses were gone, swallowed by the horizon, but they left behind a gaping hole in his chest that no amount of slaughter could ever fill.

“who am i even fighting for anymore?” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper.

as he sat there amidst the carnage, the king of curses — feared by all, unmatched in power — felt something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in ages: emptiness. true, unrelenting emptiness.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

sukuna's voice faltered as he finished recounting the story, his usual gruffness trembling under the weight of memories he thought he’d buried long ago. his hands, always so sure and unyielding, shook as they rested on the table. his crimson eyes, usually sharp and menacing, softened with unshed tears that clung stubbornly to the edge of his lashes.

and then there was you. sitting across from him, your hands clasped tightly together as if the very act of letting go would break the fragile connection between you. your own eyes glistened, the ache in your chest a weight you couldn’t name but could feel deeply in your soul.

you didn’t remember, not in the way he did. but your body and soul reacted, resonating with every word like an old song long forgotten. and as your tears spilled, so did his.

“ryo…” your voice was barely a whisper, unprompted but steady, and it shattered whatever composure sukuna had left.

his head fell forward, and for the first time in centuries, sukuna wept openly. no growls to mask his sobs, no threats to cloak his vulnerability. his shoulders shook, and his large hands gripped yours like they were the only thing tethering him to reality.

“you remember…” he choked out, his voice breaking, the tears streaming down his face unstoppable. “you — you remember ...”

you nodded, though you weren’t sure how much of it you truly did. it didn’t matter. your soul knew him. your heart knew him. and right now, that was enough.

your hands reached across the table to cup his face, your thumbs brushing away the tears that fell freely now. “we found each other,” you murmured, your own voice thick with emotion. “and isn’t that all that matters?”

he pulled you into his arms then, the table between you forgotten. you both sank to the floor, holding onto each other like lifelines, crying for what was lost and for what was found.

“i searched for you,” he whispered into your hair, his voice raw and uneven. “for so long. i didn’t even know what i was looking for, but it was you. it was always you.”

“and you found me,” you whispered back, your arms tightening around him. “we found each other.”

and so you stayed there, tangled together, tears mingling as centuries of pain and longing poured out between you. in that moment, nothing else mattered — not the past, not the future, not the world around you.

you had each other again.

and maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the room felt electric, every shared breath, every soft sigh charging the atmosphere between you and sukuna. the way he looked at you, reverent and awestruck, as if he couldn’t believe you were real, made your heart ache in ways you hadn’t thought possible. his hands roamed your body with a mix of desperation and tenderness, calloused palms smoothing over your skin like he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

his lips trailed lower, brushing kisses along your neck, your collarbone, your stomach, until he reached the apex of your thighs. he paused, his breath ghosting over your sensitive skin, and the sound he let out — a soft, almost broken chuckle — made your heart skip a beat.

“let me,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “please, let me. i’ve waited so long... i need this, need you .” his crimson eyes glistened as they met yours, raw and unguarded.

you opened your mouth to respond, but the words died in your throat when he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, his lips lingering as if they were trying to tell a story his words couldn’t convey. his hands gripped your hips gently, holding you in place as he moved closer to your pussy.

“you don’t know what you do to me,” he whispered, the words muffled against your skin. “a thousand years, and nothing — nothing —has ever come close to this. to you. ”

your breath hitched as his tongue flicked over your sensitive clit, a soft gasp escaping your lips. you tried to pull him up, to bring him to you, but he shook his head, his grip on you tightening just slightly.

“no,” he said, his voice trembling. “not yet. please, just... let me have this. let me show you how much i’ve missed you.”

he sounded so broken, so utterly vulnerable, that you couldn’t find it in yourself to deny him. you sank back into the mattress, your hands threading through his hair as he continued.

his tongue worked you expertly, alternating between firm strokes and teasing flicks that had your body arching off the bed. he let out noises — soft, desperate sounds that bordered on whimpers — as if your pleasure was the only thing tethering him to reality.

“you taste like heaven,” he murmured against you, his lips pressing kisses to your swollen clit before moving to your thigh. “i could spend eternity here, worshipping you like this. you’re perfect... so perfect.”

“'kuna,” you breathed, your voice shaking as you tugged at his hair. “please, come here. i need you.”

he hesitated, his lips brushing over your skin one last time before he looked up at you. his face was flushed, his crimson eyes dark with emotion, and he shook his head softly.

“not yet,” he begged, his voice cracking. “just a little longer. please, let me show you... let me have this moment.”

you nodded, your chest tightening at the sight of him so undone, so vulnerable. “okay,” you whispered. “okay, ryo. m'yours.”

his eyes fluttered closed, and he pressed one last, lingering kiss to your clit before moving up to capture your lips in a searing kiss. the love, the longing, the sheer need in that kiss spoke volumes, and as you tangled yourself around him, you knew that this moment was everything you both had been waiting for.

a thousand years may have kept you apart, but now, in this moment, you were whole again.

sukuna's lips were everywhere — your neck, your collarbone, the curve of your shoulder. each kiss carried a desperation that made your heart ache. he trembled against you, his hands roaming your body reverently as if afraid you might vanish beneath his touch.

“i can’t —” his voice broke, his breath warm against your skin. “i can’t believe i’m here, with you again. you don’t... you don’t know what this does to me.” his crimson eyes looked at you, raw and unguarded, as if you were the only thing tethering him to the world.

you cupped his face, your thumb brushing over the sharp line of his cheekbone. “i’m here,” you whispered, your voice soft but steady. “i’m not going anywhere, ryo.”

he let out a shaky breath and pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, his fingers tangling with yours as he guided them above your head. he moved slowly, deliberately, as he prepared you, his fingers stretching you with care that seemed almost at odds with the reputation he carried.

“so perfect,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your ear. “you feel like you were made for me, like no time has passed at all. do you feel it, too? how we just... fit?”

you nodded, a soft moan escaping your lips as your body arched into his touch. he groaned at the sound, his forehead pressing against yours as he whispered, “you’re everything. my everything.”

when he finally aligned himself and pushed inside, his breath hitched, his entire body stilling as he buried himself to the hilt. he didn’t move. he couldn’t. he just held you impossibly close, his arms wrapping around you as if shielding you from the world.

his face pressed into the crook of your neck, and you felt his breath tremble against your skin. “you’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice breaking with emotion. “you’re mine. you’ve always been mine.”

you tightened your hold on him, your fingers threading through his hair as you pressed a kiss to the side of his face. “i’m yours,” you whispered, your voice shaking with the weight of the moment. “always.”

he began to move, slowly at first, his hips rolling against yours in a rhythm that felt both achingly familiar and entirely new. each thrust was deliberate, as if he wanted to etch the memory of this moment into his very soul.

“you’re so beautiful like this,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “so soft, so warm. i don’t deserve you, but gods, i’ll never let you go.”

his pace quickened slightly, the tension in his body coiling as he continued to whisper sweet nothings against your skin. “you feel... gods, you feel so good. i’ve missed this. i’ve missed you . tell me you’ll stay. tell me you’re mine.”

“i’m yours,” you repeated, your voice steady despite the tears that blurred your vision. “always yours, ryo.”

your words seemed to undo him, his movements becoming just a touch more desperate as he chased the feeling of completeness that only you could bring him. his lips found yours again, and the kiss was anything but rushed. it was tender, a thousand years of longing poured into one moment.

“i love you,” he whispered against your lips, his voice trembling. “don’t leave me again. please.”

you kissed him back, your hands cupping his face as you whispered, “never.” and in that moment, as he held you close and moved within you, the world faded away, leaving just the two of you and the love that had withstood the test of time.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the room was bathed in a soft amber glow from the bedside lamp, the warmth of the heater wrapping around the two of you like an embrace. sukuna lay on his side, facing you, his crimson eyes fixed on your face as if committing every detail to memory. your fingers threaded through his soft pink hair, the motion soothing as your legs tangled under the heavy blankets.

he huffed, pulling the blanket up over his shoulders. “humans and their strange contraptions,” he muttered, gesturing vaguely toward the heater in the corner of the room. “a box that makes fire but doesn’t burn anything? ridiculous.”

you chuckled, and his lips twitched into a small smile. “i can’t believe the great king of curses is humbled by a heater,” you teased, poking his chest. “next, you’ll be telling me you’re scared of microwaves.”

“what’s a microwave?” he asked, raising a brow.

you burst into laughter, clutching his shoulder as you leaned into him. the sound echoed in the quiet room, and he froze for a moment, drinking it in. “gods, i missed that,” he murmured, his voice soft as his hand came up to cup your cheek. “your laugh... i could hear it forever.”

you stopped giggling to look at him, your smile fading into something tender. “i’m here now,” you said quietly, your thumb brushing against his cheekbone. “and i’m not going anywhere, ryo.”

he pressed his forehead against yours, exhaling deeply as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you impossibly close. “you’d better not,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “i don’t think i could survive losing you again.”

the two of you lay like that for a while, the silence filled only by the hum of the heater and the occasional creak of the house settling. then, sukuna began to speak, his voice steady but filled with emotion.

“did i ever tell you about the time we went horse riding, and you insisted on taking that wild stallion?” he asked, a small smile playing on his lips.

you tilted your head, your fingers still combing through his hair. “no... but it sounds like something i’d do. what happened?”

“it threw you off within five minutes,” he said, his smile widening. “but you didn’t cry. no, you got up, brushed the dirt off your clothes, and glared at the horse like it had personally insulted you.”

you laughed softly. “sounds about right. did i get back on?”

he chuckled, his voice rumbling in his chest. “of course you did. you were too stubborn not to. you rode that damn horse until it obeyed you, and then you rode it every day for weeks just to prove a point.”

“his name was akagi,” you said suddenly, the name slipping out before you even realized it.

sukuna froze, his eyes widening as he looked at you. “you remember?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

you frowned, your hand pausing in his hair as you tried to piece together the memory. “i... i think so. he was a red horse, wasn’t he? with a white blaze down his face?”

a slow smile spread across his face, and for a moment, you thought you saw tears glistening in his eyes. “yes,” he said, his voice trembling. “yes, that’s him. you remember, my love. you remember.”

you nodded, tears welling up in your own eyes as the memory became clearer. “and you hated that horse,” you said, laughing through your tears. “you said he had too much attitude for his own good.”

“he did!” sukuna exclaimed, his grin breaking through the emotion. “but you loved him, so i tolerated him. for you.”

the two of you laughed together, the sound filled with relief and joy as more memories began to surface, each one like a piece of a puzzle clicking into place. sukuna held you tightly, his face buried in your neck as he whispered, “thank you. gods, thank you for coming back to me.”

you kissed the top of his head, your fingers threading through his hair once more. “we’ve always found each other, ryo. even after a thousand years. i’m yours, always.”

he looked up at you, his crimson eyes shining with unshed tears. “and i’m yours. forever.”

as the night stretched into the early hours of the morning, the two of you stayed like that, recounting stories, laughing, crying, and holding each other. for the first time in a millennium, everything felt right. you were home, and so was he.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

sitting there, listening to sukuna recount the stories of your past life, painted a picture of someone you could barely recognize. a fierce, confident daimyo who commanded respect with every step, who ruled with fire in her veins and passion in her heart. the kind of person who spoke her truths, weaving her desires into words that resonated with everyone who heard them. but now? the years had dulled that fire, replaced it with something meek, something you didn’t recognize as you.

as he spoke about the woman you used to be, his pride was palpable, and it stirred something deep within you. he looked at you as though you were still that person, still that bold, unstoppable force. and as much as it warmed you, it also broke your heart. you had let yourself forget who you were, what you wanted, and most importantly, why you sang in the first place.

or rather, who you sang for.

he was right there, in front of you, the embodiment of every yearning, every note you ever wrote. your songs weren’t just about a nebulous longing — they were about him. and suddenly, the idea of continuing to sing songs crafted by someone else felt like the ultimate disrespect to both yourself and the man who loved you.

the next morning, after sharing breakfast with sukuna — who, despite being less than graceful in a modern kitchen, insisted on helping — you marched into your talent agency's office. the nerves had settled into your gut like a heavy stone, but you ignored them. you knew what you had to do.

the executives barely looked up when you entered, more concerned with their schedules and the demands of the music industry. but when you stood in the middle of the room, hands clenched at your sides, and declared, “i want to perform my own songs from now on,” they couldn’t ignore you.

their response was swift and cutting, full of reminders about contracts, marketability, and their so-called expertise. they warned you about repercussions, about how stepping out of line could end your career.

“then so be it,” you said, standing tall despite the tremor in your voice. “i’ve built enough of a name for myself that i don’t need this label to keep going. i’m not afraid of starting over.”

their protests followed you as you turned and walked out, but you didn’t look back. you felt his presence before you saw him — sukuna waiting just outside, leaning casually against the wall. his crimson eyes locked on yours, a flicker of pride shining in them.

“did you mean what you said in there?” he asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he straightened up.

you nodded, slipping your hand into his. “every word.”

his grip tightened slightly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “that’s my girl.”

together, you walked out of the building, the air around you feeling lighter than it had in years. the weight of others’ expectations, the chains of a system that had dictated your life — it all melted away with every step.

as you looked up at sukuna, his presence grounding you, you realized something: yearning wasn’t a weakness or a silly indulgence. it was a force that led you to beautiful things, to him, and to rediscovering yourself.

“what’s next?” he asked, his voice carrying an edge of excitement.

“i’ll write,” you said with certainty. “and i’ll sing. but this time, it’ll be my words, my heart, my truth.”

he grinned, that familiar, almost feral pride lighting up his face. “then let’s show the world what you’re made of.”

and for the first time in years, you felt like that fierce, confident daimyo again. the fire in your veins was back, and you had no intention of letting it go.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

three years had passed in what felt like the blink of an eye. your once-thriving singing career had quietly taken a backseat, but not without reason. life had shifted, blossomed in ways you and sukuna had long wished for, and the result was the sound of soft giggles and tiny footsteps filling your home. you were parents — parents to twin one-year-olds who were the perfect blend of you both, a miracle that neither of you could ever take for granted.

your days were now a whirlwind of business meetings and baby bottles. stepping away from the stage had allowed you to pivot into a new role: the owner of a successful label company. while you had initially mourned the end of your singing career, the new path felt right. nurturing young talent and giving others the platform you once had filled your heart with joy, just as much as rocking your twins to sleep did.

sukuna, of course, had his own rules when it came to parenting. he swore up and down that playing your music for the twins was the only surefire way to get them to calm down and sleep through the night. “it’s their mother’s voice,” he’d say, almost smugly, “of course it soothes them. they know quality when they hear it.”

you’d laugh, rolling your eyes at his tone but secretly loving how proud he sounded. and when the babies would finally drift off, their tiny hands clutching the edges of their blankets, sukuna would pull you close, kissing the top of your head like he always did.

one quiet evening, after the twins were finally tucked in, you sat behind sukuna on the couch, your fingers threading through his hair as he rested his head on your shoulder. your movements stilled when you noticed it — a strand of silver weaving through his dark hair.

“you’re getting grey hairs,” you murmured, letting out a soft chuckle as your hand continued to trace his scalp.

“hm?” he glanced up at you, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly in amusement. “does that bother you?”

“no,” you said quickly, a smile tugging at your lips. “it makes me happy.”

he raised a brow at that, clearly intrigued. “happy?”

“yeah,” you replied, your voice softening as you leaned forward to kiss his temple. “it means we’re growing old together. no more waiting, no more longing. just... this.”

for a moment, he was silent, his hand reaching up to cover yours where it rested on his shoulder. “you know,” he began, his voice unusually gentle, “i didn’t think this would ever be possible. i thought... after everything, after losing you once... that maybe this kind of peace wasn’t meant for me.”

you turned his face toward you, your fingers brushing against his jaw. “you deserve this. we deserve this.”

his gaze softened, the sharp edges of his usual demeanor melting away. “you’re too good to me,” he muttered, almost gruffly, before pressing a kiss to your palm.

“that’s because i love you,” you said simply, and his eyes darted away for a moment, the faintest hint of color dusting his cheeks.

“yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but the corner of his mouth tugged upward in a rare, unguarded smile. “i love you too, you know.”

you laughed softly, running your fingers through his hair again. “i know.”

and as the two of you sat there, basking in the quiet warmth of your home, the soft hum of the heater in the background and the sound of your twins breathing steadily from their cribs, you felt it in your soul: you had waited lifetimes for this. and now that you had it, you weren’t letting go.

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grapesandraisins

4 years ago

Random Haikyuu Headcanons

CW: Swearing, mentions of private parts/genitalia

A/N: I genuinely had so much fun writing this. I love writing crack. This is one of my favorite things ever.

Atsumu sends inspirational quotes to Osamu when Osamu is having a bad day in order to piss him off more. Like the ones you see in TJ Maxx or in a white mother’s beach house. (Also he’s definitely gotten a virus on his phone/computer from downloading sketchy apps for fonts in order to enhance the experience)

Lev has gotten stuck in the net

Hinata and Yachi read warrior cats as a kid

Noya, Tanaka and Yamamoto bark

Yamamoto’s Little Sister Akane hisses at people

Sugawara and Yamaguchi are constantly trying to set everybody up

Oikawa was a drama kid and has always wanted to be in a hallmark movie

Iwaizumi knows how to tap dance

Asahi firmly supports #freebritney

Kenma sells random peoples feet pics online for money for games. Like he goes on google steals ppls feet pics, then goes to insta, looks at the people who like feet pics and DMs them asking if they wanna buy.

Aone doesn’t have any eyebrows because they got burned off

Shirabu has a gap in his bangs in order to not block out his third eye. Semi told him it was on the side of his head

Kageyama buys unpasteurized milk

Sakusa has sprayed Komori with raid

Komori will poke holes is Sakusa’s masks when he pisses him off. Or will hide all of Sakusa’s masks and only leave out ones with days of the week labeled on them.

Semi and Tendou have both been arrested for arson

Goshiki, Shirabu, Kyotani, Makki, and Kinoshita unironically refer to women as “females”

So does Ushijima but he also refers to men as “males” and I don’t want to fight him so it’s alright

Hinata doesn’t know what a prostate is

Osamu spits in Atsumu’s food when he’s mad at him. Better yet, if Atsumu has a slight allergy to something, like something that will only give him a small rash or hives, Osamu will put a little bit of that ingredient in his food so that he can’t taste it, but he still gets an allergic reaction.

Akaashi collects coupons

Bokuto wants an ass tattoo

Oikawa has his asshole bleached