Night(wing) Crawler - G.S.
Night(wing) Crawler - G.S.
Synopsis. Trapped with a too-smug, too-handsome Nightwing by the very same villains you were trying to swindle was not how you planned to spend your night. Luckily for you, Gojo can think of a much better way to pass the time.
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! anti-hero!reader, Nightwing! Gojo, BATMAN AU, enemies-to-Iovers, forced proximity, píning, MARATHONS, manhandIing, Gojo goes FÉRAL, overstím, he is BIG, making it fit, cervíx kíssing, tummy buIges, BREÉDING, RIPPING suits, spítting, cúmplay, chokíng, arguing during it, PÚSSYDRÚNK GOJO, matíng presses, making Gojo CRY, oraI (f + m rec.), p talking, breaking furniture, Red Hood! Geto cameo, slight vioIence, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 10.4k
A/N. *evil laughs* I just had to.
“You.”
“You.”
“Enchanté, sweetheart.” And Gojo - oh, it’s so undeniably Gojo Satoru’s sapphire gaze behind that satiny mask - tilts over his tall, bubbling glass of champagne towards you with the cockiest of winks. A wink.
Your teeth set on edge - out of all the pompous, boorish high society balls that he could crash undercover, it just had to be the one that you were planning to heist.
And by the most pompous, boorish hero of all.
If looks could kilI, then you’d be upturning Gojo’s grave to finish him off yourself already.
“Didn’t think you were one for masquerade balls.” He’s leaning in to brush off an invisible piece of lint from your shoulder, words coming out in scorching hot puffs against your ear. Low, hoarse. “Changed much during your lil’ vacation, hm? How is the Gotham State Penitentiary this time of year?”
“Oh, I don’t know. How’s the hottest one of the Bat Family doing?” You’re sniping back, head cocked innocently. Silent for just how long it takes for Gojo’s eyes to widen, breath to hitch- “Y’know…Toji Fushiguro. How’s Batman doing, Nightwing?”
There’s a strangely sharp glint in his stare, and his traitorously handsome jaw clenches through a wild grin.
With a wide sweep of the bustling ballroom, he murmurs over the live orchestra. “You’re gonna give me away~”
“Don’t even have to try.” You’re tilting your head up in defiance when he closes in so many sultry inches, all the way until you could feel the heated press of Gojo’s ticking biceps through his formal suit. Heady masculine cologne invading your senses, “That mask does more than enough damage.”
Honestly, what fool dons a disguise with a mask that looks exactly like his hero one?
Though, you weren’t complaining - if Nightwing accidentally provided the perfect distraction for you to swindle future big-shot congressman and business heir, Naoya Zenin, out of his precious diamonds then so be it.
The fact that Batman’s protégé would be humiliated was only a plus.
Scoffing, “So what you’re saying is you want me out of it? Scandalous, but I don’t fuck before a first date.”
A very, very big plus.
“Never in your wildest dreams, Nightwing.” You’re pettily raising your voice just a pitch to make the sculptured man in front of you squirm, as much as he would never admit it. “S’it that you don’t fuck or you don’t get to? Come here to try out your hand with the wives of the bourgeoisie?”
“I’m here on business, sweetheart. Gotta get to that brat Naoya’s office.” Gojo nods towards a gaggle of ogling older ladies, ever-the-charmer.
It’s enough to make them swoon, and - you hate to admit it - for your heart to stutter just a beat.
Because Gojo Satoru looked good. All powerful, lean muscle that carried him so many numerous inches over six feet. The rich, yolkish lighting makes his dark blue jacket look almost painted to his slender waist, and those meaty, meaty thighs.
Easily the sexiest man in this room full of sordid businessmen and shifty politicians.
If you dared to let your gaze roam, you’re sure they’d stray past his milky collarbones to catch a hint of the even tighter black and blue hero suit he was surely wearing under.
He looked more than good, if you were being honest.
But when has one of Gotham’s most notorious cat burglars ever needed to be honest?
And you’re so caught up in pondering just what the others see in him that it gives you an electric jolt to feel the doughy pads of Gojo’s gloved fingertips brushing down your thigh. Feeling as if he was searing through your saucy, glittering gown.
There’s a tremor of amusement when his sensory tips meet the cold hilt of your famed dagger. Hidden.
Tonality dripping with something sickly sweet that makes your tummy lurch, “And it seems like I’m not the only one, Prowler. The Zenin diamonds?”
“The Zenin drug smuggling ring?”
You both give a curt, almost-missable nod. Your eyes back to analyzing the sprawling celebrations for any sign of the aforementioned Zenin heir himself.
Though, not for long- “Y’know, maybe I should send you back to your lovely penitentiary right now, girl. Already did once.” Whispered right against your sensitive earlobe.
“Darling–” Your plastic smile is almost painful as you feel the interested stares from around the room. You did make quite an eye-catching pair, especially so close. Hand drifting to his beefy, veined forearm and pinching, “-you’re too close~”
“I don’t think I’m close enough.”
Nails clawing down his smooth skin and towards his pale wrist. “Close enough for me to strike a vein without a single person here knowing any better.”
“That’s kinda hot–” Gojo’s lips quirk upwards, sleek brows quirking up to the curtain of his snowy bangs. And you don’t know where to look - down below, where he’s adjusting his pants with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, or up above where his irises follow a triangle between both your eyes n’ your lips, dead-on. “-for a petty thief.”
“You little-”
“Big, actually.” And of course, he has to interrupt with a look on his face that tells you he knew you were fighting to not take a glance downwards and confirm for yourself. “I’m very big.”
“I hear words compensate.” You’re batting your lashes through your own lacy Stygian mask, too close. “And I hear Toji’s bigger.”
“Enough with the-”
“My my, young love sure is fiery!” Saved by a rough, booming voice to your side of the festivities. Though, you’re not sure if it would technically be considered a “save” when you’re finally snapping your head and recognizing the source of those words. “I always do tell Naoya ‘ere that it’s time to settle down. No such luck so far!”
As Naobito Zenin slaps an overly harsh hand down on his son’s crisp, suit-cladden shoulder with a bark of laughter, you mutter. “Can’t imagine why.”
Though, perhaps it was a bit too loud.
Because Naoya’s nostrils flare in a sharp inhale, and you’re hearing Gojo stifle a breathy rumble of laughter from his broad chest- shit, since when were you two even pressed up like this? No wonder it must have looked…romantic to an outsider.
“Naobito Zenin, at your service.”
“Ah, my apologies for being so rude.” You’re pushing away from the hero as if it burned - and by the strange tingling on your skin, maybe it really did. Reaching over to the wizened, leering man for a handshake. “I’m-”
“Mrs. Gojo, of course.” Gojo gets there first. “My wife and I are new to Gotham, you see. We wanted to make connections here in our new home.” A warm hand casually slings over your shoulder, slender digits tight. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
What….the fuck.
And perhaps you should’ve screamed bloody murder - maybe that would make the Zenin’s take pity on you after an encounter with this lecher.
“That’s right.” Perhaps you shouldn’t have leaned in just as you did to his hard front. But if the way that Gojo was momentarily stunned told you anything, it was that you were doing something right. “It’s all been quite a change.”
Naoya’s thin, mahogany brows raise silently - new to the city and already invited to one of the most elite social gatherings of the year? That certainly was intriguing.
“Gojo? Gojo…so familiar…” Naobito muses out loud, and your veins boil with anxiety as his face scrunches. Before he clicks his fingers with flourish, “A-ha–! You wouldn’t have anything to do with the revered Gojo Enterprises now, would you?”
Your faux-husband places a hand over his heart, “Ah, my most beloved little project.”
“President?”
“CEO.”
Calling a multi-billion dollar foreign company a “little project” was generous, you think. But what was even more so was- “Though, it’s nothing in comparison to what I have coming up soon.” Gojo gasps dramatically, “Oh! We probably shouldn’t reveal much, however. Confidential, only friends and family.”
Naobito Zenin was practically frothing from the mouth at this point. And you notice that even Naoya’s suspicious furrow had almost completely disappeared. Almost.
“C-confidential-” The older man squeals, before bumping a fist into Gojo’s puffed-up chest. “Why, we’re friends now, aren’t we? Tell me tell me- just between you and I, how big are we talking?”
“Big.”
“Bigger than Gojo Enterprises? S-surely impossible-”
You cut in, “Bigger. Better, considering the association with the parliament we’ve negotiated this time. Whoops- my apologies, darling, that simply slipped out.”
And through it all, Naoya stays unnervingly quiet - even while his father tries and fails to hide his squawks of delight.
It would’ve almost been comedic if the air wasn’t so cut-throat tense. As if the clinking glasses and chatter of the ball were infinite miles away from your little bubble now.
Past animosity almost evaporated, you’re managing to meet Gojo’s eyes. His cloud-pale eyebrows wiggling with a knowing waver, and you find yourself plastering on an exaggerated look of distress before carrying out the finishing blow.
“Oh, but you know–” Patting the delicious curves of his pecs, “-my husband has been so stressed lately. I’m afraid he’ll overwork himself mad with this new project.”
“Aw, dear…”
“I do wish he’d take on a partner to collaborate and split the innumerable profits with. But, alas, there hasn’t been a company competent or high-profile enough for our taste.”
And by the sharp elbow Naobito digs into Naoya’s ribs, you already know that you’ve won. Well, that the two of you have won.
Reluctantly, almost as if every word made his bones ache, his son purses out a tight. “Well, Mr. and Mrs. Gojo, my father and I certainly hope this isn’t too forward, but we believe that- ah, we might just be exactly what you’re looking for.”
You both adopt a look of faint surprise, “Oh?”
Another nudge, another step forward.
“Apologies for the late introduction, but I’m Naoya Zenin. Future congressman, future CEO of the immensely successful Zenin Corporations” Each syllable practically oozing with icy smugness, “I believe I know what you want, and we are it. Please, allow me to reach out on behalf of our Zenin hospitality and lead the two of you to our private business room; where we can discuss this further…in-depth.”
Somehow, the trail end of his sentence made you shudder.
“Ah, how wonderful!” Gojo’s arm wraps possessively around your waist, “Lead the way, Naoya.”
And if you were lucky to be led straight to the dragon’s lair of treasures, then you were even luckier when one of those said dragons stayed behind.
Indeed, Naobito was held back in conversation with another undoubtedly important parliamentary figure as you and Gojo followed Naoya out of the massive, gilded doors. Silent. Rigid.
“Take him out. Drug-smuggling documents, then diamonds.” Gojo rasps from the corner of his mouth, voice barely audible for you let alone the stiff figure a few steps in front of you. Leading you along windingly decadent corridors and staircases.
You’re shaking your head, eyes following the velvety curtains and gleaming ornaments on display and wondering whether you should increase your scope for this heist even more than just the diamonds. “Diamonds, then whatever. I don’t give a shit what you do.”
“Drug-smuggling documents, then diamonds, then prison for you, girl.” He snarks back, “Unless– you wanna make up for this appalling date by actually going out with-”
“We’re here.”
It seems that the Zenin’s did have quite an affinity for interrupting you two at the most important of times.
And the only thing keeping Gojo from curling his features into a sneer is the sight of those rich, mahogany double doors in front of him. This was it.
The infamous Zenin office room.
With enough secrets to overturn the nation, and– Gojo sneaks a glimpse at the determined set of your gaze - enough diamonds, too.
Naoya’s spindly fingers twist on the burnished golden door handles, letting them creak open just a few inches ajar. Dim lighting floods out through the crack, and you’re seeing the outline of an expensive cross between an office room and a lounge room.
He gestures his hands in a wave inside with an almost-bored sort of drawl, “Guests first, I insist.”
Your fingers itch towards the dagger strapped to your thigh, and Gojo’s stare narrows. Tone steely yet polite, “No no, as the future master of the house-”
“I insist.”
“Alright…” He plants a staggering palm on the small of your back, “Come along then, sweetheart.”
Tentatively stepping onto the luxurious red carpet inside at the same time, you swear from your cunning optics you see Naoya’s lips twitch-
And then it happens.
All in the span of a nanosecond that neither you nor Gojo have the time to react - the floor and the ceiling crack open in an almost metre-wide line dividing you two and the door, a thick wall of metal snapping! shut in place before you can blink, and suddenly– suddenly, you’re trapped.
“Fuck-”
“No!”
“You must excuse me for the rude welcome-” Naoya’s voice drifts over, and you’re noticing that the gleaming wall had a small window pane. Enough for you to see a sliver of crazed, honeypool eyes, “-Prowler and Nightwing.”
He knows.
Of course, he knew. You were here trapped between a thoroughly bolted, heavy-duty panel of metal harder than diamonds. Ones especially made for trained heroes and- well, you.
And one furious bang! of your fist told you that not even your overpowered strength would be able to break through - it barely even rattled the barrier’s bolts that proudly stood circumference of your head. Running the expanse from floor to ceiling, you were backed into a corner.
Looking behind you, you’re met with the rest of the gleaming office; shelves upon shelves of books, a busy desk, cushy loveseats. And no window.
No exit.
He’s spitting, face twisting into heaps of wrinkles as he grins. “My father might be half-blind, but I’m not.” Pointing accusingly, “You almost got me, I admit. But any fool could tell- the tension, the stupid flirting. Who else would it fuckin’ be if not for you two?”
Crossing your arms, you do your best to keep out the tremble in your voice. “Quite frankly, I’m almost insulted.”
“I’m not.”
And you do not glower at Gojo…this time. To firmly disprove Naoya’s point, if anything.
The other man clenches his teeth, throwing his hands. “I don’t care what you feel. This is checkmate, so now you both simply die.”
Running your hands through your cage, you could practically feel the power. The strength. “Well, it seems you’re not just beauty- well, you’re not beauty at all, actually.”
“Don’t forget, he isn’t brains either.” Gojo pipes up, nodding towards you. “I know this daddy’s boy wasn’t the one to make this lair. It reads more like the works of-”
“Shut up shut up shut up-” You and him watch in mild astonishment as your captor drags his fingers through his hay-blond locks and pulls. You swear you could count every red, popped blood vessel in his bulging eyes. “-insufferable fucking- I have you two at my mercy, and when my father hears about this he will be pleased. Very pleased.”
You will yourself not to gulp, “There’s nothing you can do to us.”
“Wait and watch. After all, I am the future head of Zenin Corporations, I’ll kill both of you. It doesn’t matter how.”
Before you can torment him any further, he turns tail and throws a withering glare your way. Hands on the doors, it feels like something leaden is forming in your throat. “Better sit tight until the ball ends and we can have our ah- fun little afterparty.”
.
.
.
“Can’t you stop that infernal noise, girl.”
You’re halting your body mid-punch, a thin line of sweat trickling from your temple. Heaving out, “I don’t see you helping.”
Not even waiting for a response before you’re back to gifting the office wall with a solid CLANG! You’d already attempted the same with the metallic partition, to not even a single crater. And by the unaffected state of the rest of the room, you’re slowly realizing that every one of these four walls might just be made from the same material.
Fuck.
BANG!
“For fucks-”
“What are you doing, then?” You’re whirling around to face a precarious Gojo Satoru, standing on one foot on top of a high bookshelf and murmuring utterly ridiculously to something clutched in his palm. “An interpretive dance routine won’t get us out of here.”
He’s been like this for the entire time - it could’ve been hours, it could’ve been minutes - since you’ve been trapped here. All he’s done was rifle through a few files and snatch a few documents. And…this.
Hell- you didn’t even find your diamonds, yet.
“You think about ‘us’ a lot?”
Rolling your eyes- you can’t even bother with a scowl. Instead, turning back to spend your time planting CRASH! after CRASH! over his protests.
“Keep it down, sweetheart, I can’t-” Punching your way through even harder - making even louder noise, on purpose. “-hear-” Perhaps you could kill him before Naoya even gets here. “-the mic-”
“What?” You’re grunting, ears still ringing from the deafening noise yourself.
And just then you find your brows knitting together because Gojo Satoru looks so…satisfied. It strikes you to your very core. Which was definitely never a good sign.
Jumping down from the bookshelf in one, fluid motion, he shows off a tiny rounded gadget grasped in one hand. “You’ll see.” Gojo purrs at your questioning gaze, winking. “You’ll see very soon. We’ll be fine, promise.”
Yeah, you really didn’t like the sound of that.
But before you can swivel back to your target - you swear you were seeing a crack - Gojo’s tucking away the mysterious object into his jacket pocket and taking it off. Letting the silken fabric hit the floor with a dull schwf! Right along with his tie, his belt-
“Wh-what are you doing?” It comes out more breathless than you’d have liked.
“Changing into my supersuit, that’s what.” He lifts up his mask to roll his eyes, full and well knowing. The pinkish perk of his tongue drags a slow glide of wetness across his lips as he unbuckles his belt - looking you straight in the eyes. “Why? This turn ya on, sweetheart?”
“No.”
Yes.
Fuck, you hated how even despite turning away, you couldn’t help but angle your body just so that you’re ogling Gojo from your peripheries. You hated how every thud of clothes hitting the floor made a fresh new layer of goosebumps bead along your clammy, heated skin.
It was so hot.
“You should do the same– you must be getting warm with all that ruthless, blundering violence.” Comes the sing-song voice from behind you, oh- he was enjoying this. It sent Gojo’s heart racing to watch the way you were all flustered because of his actions. His body.
Scoffing, another punch. “You just want to see skin, lecher.”
“With a body like that- fuck yeah.”
“Save it for the wives of the bourgeoisie.”
“Scared, Prowler?”
Oh, for the love of-
“Not on your life, Nightwing.”
And then you do it.
You make the mistake of giving into your instinctual desire to glare at Gojo Satoru, as if your eyes never wanted to leave him. And then you see it.
All his long, tantalizing muscles and curves - being hugged so tightly in that black and blue suit that you could count every one of his eight washboard abs. Fuck. Gojo’s body seemed to go on for miles, pulling the latex tightly over his rippling flesh.
Right on cure, your eyes trail from the bulging valley of his pecs, to the ridges of his v-line to…you gulp.
You always did think it gave him an unfair advantage - just how sexy he was. It was one of the reasons he managed to distract you enough to lock you up in Gotham State Penitentiary last time, after all.
Tittering, “Take a picture it’ll-”
“Take this fist to your face.”
“Kinky~ it’ll only make me harder, y’know.”
Hard-er.
And all of a sudden it was as if the tension in the room was like molasses, and you were drowning in the saccharine concoction. Nightwing- Gojo really was too cocky for his own good, but what was even worse was he could back it up, too.
Your skin flares up with a burning breeze, and your voice comes out peaky. “Fine.” Through his mask, you swear his eyes widen once your hands fly up to take off your own. And then to the zipper of your gown, “But only because it’s so hot.”
Pulling it down just an inch before-
“Wait…let me?”
Just a flash of that glossy black suit of yours, just a single sneak-peek of it enveloping your skin and he was pressing you to the wall. Ravenous.
You were gorgeous.
Balmy heat of his body making yours sizzle up, all Gojo needs is only one of his massive palms to pin both your wrists wayyy above your head. Meaty thighs massaging up against yours to stop your jostling body.
Lips twitching up into a smirk at the carnal hunger in your eyes, “Let me…help with that, yeah?” His gravelly words resound in your eardrums and make your thighs squeeze. The fat fringes of his digits draw slow lines down the side of your figure, memorizing. “S’a hero’s duty, after all.”
You’re growling, “Do it. Do it if you’re not scar- ah!”
But that’s exactly what Gojo had been waiting for.
Exactly the moment to make your pretty voice break, exactly the moment for him to tuck a finger behind your back and all but rip–! your dress from the back.
“Would ya look at thaaaat-” He’s snickering out in awe as your flimsy gown falls halfway through tatters around you, all along with your dagger. Revealing a snug suit that makes his mouth simply water. All gorgeous lines of your body that he can’t get enough of. “Always fuckin’ hated this suit.”
His sinful pants strike you in gusts when Gojo leans his admiring head down, down, down to push right into the valley between your heaving tits. “Made me s-soooo fucking hard every time I saw ya in it.”
Did you just make Gojo Satoru stutter?
No wait- even better, was that achingly hard outline bumping right between your legs what you thought it was?
He’s rubbing the swollen outline of his mushroom tip at the target of your hot core, drinking in that cutely surprised expression on your face. Something devilish. “Oh~? What’s this? I-if this is what it took to shut that pretty mouth, I’d have done it sooner.”
But what he didn’t account for was the way that you would take the initiative shutting him up.
The way you would breach that almost-non-existent air between you two and crash your lips onto his. In French kiss so filthy that it makes Gojo moan–
“You’re better like this-” You spit between his strawberry pink lips, the taste of his bubblegum sweet taste now your most favorite. Cherry flavored, almost. “-when you shut up.”
In response, he’s nipping on your lower lip and draaaagging. Smirking at the adorable squeal that lets off from your ajar jaw, “Can’t even keep yer h-hands off of me, always knew you found me irresistible.” And Gojo doesn’t even need his other hand to entrap you now, pinning you with his muscled front. A sultry glissade of mere inches up n’ down up n’ down up n’-
You could tell that he was big.
So could that soft palm of yours, sneaking down to cop an agonizing feel of his rotund bulge. Fingers rovering generously along the damp crevice of his slit, “What was that?”
“Found me ir-re-sis-”
Harder.
“Shiiiit.” He hiccups, head swimming. “Suck- suck on my tongue.”
You do. Making Gojo’s eyes glaze over at the twist of your pillowy lips, making him rut-
“Fuckin’ dirty little thing.” The rough texture of his tastebuds swirl across your own, and even through his mask you swear he looked fucked-out already. Taking off his suave gloves, he leaves one spank on your thigh. Two. “Mmm- spread them f’me now.”
You’re snarling, despite the furious throb you feel from your leaking cunt. “Who’d ya think you are to ngh- boss me around?”
“Have it your way then, girl.”
And when he says that shit, he means it.
Before you know it, he’s sitting on the capped curves of his knees with a loud bam! You’re grimacing for but a mere split-second at just how much it must have hurt, before realizing that Gojo doesn’t care.
It’s the last fucking thing on his mind once he’s gliding an open, calloused palm underneath one of your unsteady legs and wrangling it on top of his sculpted shoulders.
You’re latching a hand through his soft, fawny strands with a yelp. “Asshole.”
“Witch.”
“Pussy.”
“Pussy, alriiight—” The borders of his short, manicured nails draw an invisible line down, down, down to coast the puffy fissure of your pussylips. Before pinching and tearing cleanly between the legs of your latex suit. Breathing deeply in- “There she is. Pretty girl…hey there, the name’s Satoru. I’m the stuff of your wettest dreams.”
You can’t even bite out a retort - a plea - before Gojo’s diving nose-deep allll the way into your drooling cunt. Nudging apart your gluey folds with his perky buttoned nose, lengthy tongue slathering your hole with a fat drag-
He’s basically glued. Addicted with only a single taste, and swerving his tongue to scratch up in solid, dizzying circles around and around your soppy entrance.
“Sh-shit-” Your thighs break out in jitters, and he only responds with a firm tug to interlock your craned limb ‘round his neck. Making your spine bend the perfect curvature off of the cool wall, “-more. More.”
SPANK!
The rims of Gojo’s fingers burn into the globes of your ass, and he’s so unrepentant about it. So smug. Making such a spectacular show of letting your globs of slick pour down his tongue.
Kiss-bitten maw hanging wiiidely agape to make you watch the thick rivulets of sap that hit the back of his awaiting throat. He’s dripping wet all the way down to his bobbing Adam’s apple, treacly splotches of juice hitting the floor in puddles.
Gojo gurgles out something feral, still mushing his pert maw to your wet mound so you’re feeling each n’ every vibration.
“Dooooown, kitty.” Another spank, and another steamy snog of his mouth. Though, this time he’s letting his pearly whites catch on your plumpened clit. Dangerously so. “Watch ngh- watch it, I bite.”
With a frustrated tut, you’re pushing his pretty features even deeper into your pussy. Making him pinch your sensitive nub between his teeth even harder. Slobbering a long drag from every inch of his pointed chin, to the very apples of his high cheekbones.
“Maybe m’into that…Satoru.”
“Oh- Oh.” Through the bleary gaps in your eyes, you’re noticing that Gojo was blushing. Bright. Red up to the tips of his ears. Burning skin chafing up into your own, and you’re practically melting at his heat.
That sound was like heaven to him. You were like heaven to him. And Gojo’s dilated irises hold direct eye contact with you once he’s digging his round fingertips roughly onto your asscheeks. Resonating out such saturated squelches after squelches as his tongue laps every nook and cranny. “You’re gonna get it- fuck, you’re gonna get it, sweetheart.”
So many delirious moans rip out of you with every slash of his tongue, perking it in every right sensitive spot of yours - without even trying.
Mewling, “Toru- ngh- Toru.”
“Easy there, easy there.” He giggles out in a wet sputter right into your inner thighs, ragged voice all waterlogged with so many ounces of you and your sweet pussy. In the blink of an eye, you feel like you’re floating - only mere moments later do you realize that it’s because Gojo’s holding you up.
With only one hand.
Relieving you of any thought other than jerking your cunt repeatedly on top of his open mouth in a sultry tempo. Back and forth.
“Have no idea h-how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He spits into your weeping pussy - both literally and figuratively. Free hand darting upwards to push aside the glutinous barrier of your folds and spray it with a thick wad of spittle. Licking over the shiny sheen, “No idea. Always actin’ so ngh- high and mighty. Had to fuck my fist every time I fought ya, had to run off and- shiiiit cum to the thought of you all over my tongue.”
Gojo was babbling, and right now it was as if he started and couldn’t stop.
“Annoying fuckin’ girl.” He’s snarling, every syllable falling out before he can even think. The swollen point his thumb treks past your walls and catches on the fluttering orifice of your hole. “Ya just need to be eaten out reeeeal proper. Lemme show you how it’s done.”
Then you feel like you’re being split-apart, and you knew you were fucked.
Because Gojo’s fingers were both long and girthy.
Such a lethal combination that had you mussing up his silky bangs while you held on for dear life.
His barreling inches crawl right past that first cozy outer ring, showering it with such lustrous layers of pure, slippery need. Pushing and pushing until they’re skirting to thrash right into the bulging area of your g-spot.
And just when he’s pummelling your molten wall with a harsh strike, just when Gojo’s mouth parts at the pure ecstasy of finding it. Of how pretty you looked.
You’re letting your own, too, in a frail whimper. “Th-that all you got, Nightwing?”
“Ohhh, I love a woman that bullies me.”
All that Gojo whispers into your cunt - low, almost reverent - before his touch turns deadly. Cock aching painfully, thighs squeezing together until his pulsing, hot shaft gets squeezed.
You’re faced with the full force of his slick-covered fingers pumping direct hit after hit. Sending white-hot flashes of pressure straight from the stout ends of his fingerpads and right to your brain.
“That all I got? H-heh, that all I got-” He’s echoing your previous words like a mantra. Breaking. Octaves higher as if he was on the verge of laughing. “How fucking cute.”
“C-cute?”
“So fucking cute.”
“I-I’m not- fuck!”
Pinpointing his long index purposefully in a massage right up against your g-spot, like it was a button for him to toy and push.
Gojo’s smile leers ever-wider as he holds it there, listening to the way your moans pitch creakily. “What’s that?” And you’re barely spilling off a few more syllables in response before he angles his wrist deeper to push down even harder. Making your entire body shudder, “What’s that? Yeahh, s’what I thought.”
You were so tight around him that Gojo’s forcing himself to bite his driveling bottom lip to hold back countless embarrassing whimpers. Because you were clinging onto him like gum, tugging his fingers back into your boiling hot depths every time he’s reeling back.
And the problem with Gojo Satoru was that he couldn’t decide.
He wanted you. And he wanted it all.
Couldn’t stop from alternating between scissoring his dexterous fingers into every ridge and crevice of your goopy cunt, and making out with you like he was parched. Lolling his tongue like he was drunk- all over your swooping slit and rubbing in tiny hearts on top of your hooded clit.
“Need you. Need you s-shoooo fuuuckin’ badly.” He couldn’t even speak properly at this point. You’re flinching as a third finger slimily squirms inside your pussy. “Want it all.”
So fucking sloppy in ways you’ve never seem him.
Your dewdrops of slick coat the outside of his mouth and stick in delicate strings, growing thicker and thicker by the minute as he once more strikes your magical spot and makes your toes curl. Gasping, “Yeah- yeah, fuck. Take it, take it ngh- all, Satoru—”
You think you’re gonna snap.
“Upsie daisy.”
Basically being manhandled to lean your entire weight on his shoulders. You don’t think you’re even holding yourself up at all this point. Feeling every flex and ripple of the hero’s deltoids underneath your fleshy mounds.
You’re so loud - and not just from your mouth.
“Hell yeah. Talk t’me.” Juicy sloshes spring onto the edges of Gojo’s mouth after every gyration, practically devouring you. He narrows his lust-murked stare to your glistening hole, giggling - fucking giggling - at how your hips just can’t stay still. “She’s saying…ohhh she’s saying- saying she’s gonna be good f’me.”
You’re blinking down with dazed intrigue, watching with an empty head at the way that his motions only get faster. And faster.
Pupils sprinting allll the way to the back of your heavy lids, “Close. Think- think m’so close, Toru.”
“Ya think?” He muses, drawing a bold stripe up your bruised and battered g-spot. One so hard that it has the corners of your lips flooding with a bubbling torrent of saliva, it has your eyes shuttering- “Oh, girl– I know. You’re cummin’ already, sweetheart.”
Shit- you were? You were.
Head spinning, throat raw.
And you didn’t even realize it with just how fucked-out you were on his long, lecherous tongue. Rendering your head permanently dizzy with those vulgar patterns he was drawing with it, both inside and out.
Your goopy walls tingle with the force of your high, ears popping with the pressure of those startling peaks after peaks. Ones that Gojo drags out gladly.
“Cumming from the hah- the great Gojo Satoru, huh?” He’s groaning, tonality husked with a shiver of something predatory. Unstable. Needy. Smashing away over and over and over on your most tender spots, buzzing. “Cumming all over my mouth. Always was meant for this- meant for me.”
If you thought that the squelches from before were blasphemous, then you surely weren’t ready for the slurps that follow now.
So loud.
Slithering the curling tip of his tongue to slap down on your quivering entrance, he’s pounding your hole dually with a mean mouth and even meaner fingers. Merciless.
You’re cumming and cumming and he’s stringing you along with every explosive ram and suck. Tired fingers pulling out of your hole with a wet plop! and lurching down to squeeze his achingly hard cock. Grinding the fat of his palm over n’ over across his length-
“S-soooo sensitive—” You’re sobbing out, eyes leaking hot tears once the crescendo of your orgasm pulls taut, powerful tingles rushing from where Gojo was latching his neat teeth onto your clit and biting.
And not even wringing your fingers to scratch his scalp, not even draaaagging Gojo by his sweat-matted hair could get him to part.
He wasn’t done yet. No.
His chin hits the very back of your cunt as he targets your pussy with yet another viscous few wads of spittle. Scattering it all over your sloppy hole when he’d drunk up all your sweet sap and there wasn’t enough. “Wanna taste more o-of you. S’fuckin’ sweet, wanna taste more.”
Because to him it would never be enough.
Not even when you’d finally let your toes uncurl, not even when your cracked whimpers were turning hushed. Bated.
Not even when he finally breaks his kiss between your legs with one last looooong slurp. Well, multiple. Gojo simply kept parting and coming back every few seconds with the most vulgar kisses because it hurt him to leave the very same pussy he’s been dreaming of since the day he first met you.
“Fuck. Fuck.” Gojo seethes out through rough pants. The soppy thwack! of wiry ribbons of drool from both sets of lips smacking him in the face. It lacquers all over his prettily flushed face and makes a mess.
Yet, you think he’s never looked prettier.
And the only thing messier was that smile he was giving you - dopey, and crazed. With beads of syrupy slick hanging off of his cerise lips, “You…you got my mask all dirty, sweetheart.”
“Dirty” was an understatement.
Gojo’s black mask was drenched, soaked through until every bit of his milky skin touching it smeared with a shimmery lamination of sap. You’d done such a number on him that when he hooks a thumb underneath, it lets out the most sinful squelch!
“Hear that?” You’re watching, speechless, once he tugs it off haphazardly. Impatiently. Ethereal white locks splaying out and over like a halo, “That’s the sound of ya being eaten out reeeal good n’ proper.”
And when Nightwing takes his mask off, you have to blink.
Because you’d fully and completely thought that Gojo Satoru could never be prettier - but when he was like this? When you could finally see his face fully?
Shit, you’re feeling your heart hammer against your ribs with a painful ba-dump–! just by looking into his summer blue eyes. The cute blush painting his features even more evident, and you’re catching his nose crinkle.
You’re pushing back the stray twines of his bangs sticking onto his prespired forehead. A touch that makes him shiver, a touch that makes his hardened cock twitch in his supersuit. “Never put that on a-again, I swear.”
“Ate that pretty cunt out and you’ve hah- fallen f’me already, hm~?” He’s wriggling his pale brows, and the look in his eyes is so enchanted that it leaves you momentarily speechless.
If you’d fallen for Gojo now, then he had already fallen for you a long, long time ago.
You hand on his hair tightens, searing. Angling his handsomely pussydrunken face until he’s looking up at you, “And who was saying they’ve been hngh- dreaming of eating my ‘pretty cunt’ for ages now?”
“I…”
“Shut up.”
And when you tell him to shut up, he shuts up. For perhaps the first time in the twenty-something years he’s been terrorizing this Earth.
Oh, for just how famed Nightwing was for his reflexes, Gojo barely sees it coming when you’re pushing him onto the muggy floor and collapsing right on down with him. Feverish. Needy.
He was so fucking hard that you swear you could see the zig-zag of his inflated veins through that massive bulge. Through his clothes-
Seriously, you’re ripping through the tough latex-y fabric wrapping around his inner thighs with a smirk. If he got to rip your supersuit then you should only return the favor.
You can’t help yourself, the very tip of your mushy tongue drips with a few pearls of saliva with just how badly you wanted him in your mouth. You’d seen the way that Gojo was huffing and grinding his cock as much as he could when he was filthily making out with your cunt.
Judging by the way he was jolting and moaning at your every touch, you were surprised he didn’t cum just from-
Oh.
He did.
And from the startled look of awe on Gojo’s face, he didn’t realize he had, either.
“Oh?” You’re skimming the fat plane of your thumb over his leaky orifice right in the middle, bawling out thick ropes of creamy white which slipped n’ slid allll down your wrist in generous heaps. “A-and you called me ‘cute’.”
Shit, but you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know where to look.
True to his word, Gojo was big - more than big, actually.
His cock was oh-so-pretty, standing red and proud at something near nine or ten inches. Oodles of buttery seed dripping down the side and ready for you to lick up.
Nestled above breeder balls, he’s lightning bolted with fat, rosé veins you couldn’t wait to feel scratch up your insides. A girthy circumference that made your poor knuckles ache to wrap around, so needy that every throb made your wrist jolt.
So…sexy.
“Satoru…”
And something in your tone of voice seems to jolt Gojo into overdrive.
He’s letting his meaty thighs crack open, displaying you with the attractive ripples of muscle. “C’mon, sweetheart-” A large hand softly cups the back of your unsteady head, “-clean up this- this mess you made.”
If this was any other time, you might’ve snapped back something about it being the mess he made himself. If this was any other time, you might’ve teased him for the teary cracks shattering his words.
But right now, you were striking the bullseye of Gojo’s round, coral pink divot with a hefty dump of saliva. Thumbing it right over his weeping middle and lazing your tongue tenderly all down the grooves of his veins.
You could feel him throb and buck underneath you, so turned on that you could practically taste it.
“Gods. Fuck. Fuck, girl-” He’s spitting out through lowered lashes, watching your tongue flop out to lap ‘round and ‘round his mushroomy tip like your favorite lolly. “-like that. Just like that.”
Gojo tucks a thumb underneath the curve of your chin, prying your maw to fall open just enough so that he can tap-tap-tap his blushing, thick head on your tongue. So that he can spurt out a few more gumdrops of seed and watch them glisten all the way to your throat.
He’s watching you with an open mouth, “Oh yeah. Oh yeah, my girl. Now you’re gonna hah- take all of me, right?”
Your pussy twitches with interest at his words — “my girl.” And the only thing you can think to do is let your digits sift underneath his tender slit, grinning. “Make me.”
It’s all the confirmation that Gojo needs to lurch open your slobbering mouth even further and plunge his veiny cock into you. Hissing at the way your tongue drags underneath his sinking shaft, he burns red to the tips of his ears.
“N-now now, play nice and say ‘ahhh’—” Your mouth was so hot. And it was working so many wonders on his fat cock that it was forcing him to gasp out tiny sobs. “Take me- fucking- fucking take me or god help me-”
He didn’t even know what he was saying.
Never breaking sultry eye contact, Gojo’s swabbing his cum around your plumped lips like a whitish lipstain. Fucking up feverishly, his trickling tip hits the very bottom of your throat and stays there-
“Ya like that?” He’s snarling out, perfect teeth pulled back on full display. You’re moaning into his tufted, snowy-white pubes at the sight of his glinting canines. “‘Course you do, course you do. F-fuck don’t know how many ngh- time I-I’ve imagined this. All because of you, nasty girl-”
Without warning, he’s pinching your nose together and you whine in answer. Crescents of your nails clawing down red, red lines all over his toned abs, “Alright alright- ngh- mostly because of you.”
He lets go, finally. Snickering at the steady tears that fall down your cute face.
Fighting against his flapping lids to watch the way you’re bobbing your head in a primal cadence now. Your nose brushing up against his heated skin every time. A fat few rivers of drool find themselves glazing your lips, your chin, Gojo’s shifting pelvis in a puddle.
He was so hot and weighty inside, and your jaw was starting to ache just from the sheer bulky fatness. Your cunt leaking - bawling - at the way his ballooned-up veins rub against the roof of your mouth up n’ down.
“You and that damn suit n’ those damn eyes a-and that-” He bucks up, up, up, core tensing sexily each time. Smashing the rounded curve of his tight balls against your chin. “-damn mouth. Now mine, all mine oh—”
Your fingers just barely graze over Gojo’s plump sack, making his precious, pinkish skin wrinkle. Making him gasp- “O-oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck-” His head snaps upwards, eyes rolling to the very backs of his head. “-c’mere. C’mere.”
Maybe it’s because of the remaining aftereffects of your mind-shattering orgasm, maybe it’s because you wanted him so bad you couldn’t think; but you’re so pliable in Gojo’s big, strong arms.
He’s bending a few degrees to scoop you up in a mess of boneless limbs, all in one go. Sitting you all pretty and struggling to balance on his slender hips– his v-shape was mouth-watering.
And your thighs fit so perfectly snugly on either side, glissading your pussylips up and down on his cylindrical shaft. You’re riding all along his bumpy veins, head bobbing at every probing spiral that pokes past your folds.
“Fuck me.” Gojo whispers against your throat. Reaching over languidly to rip even more of his supersuit for you, all the way down his inner thighs, his chest, everywhere. For you to ruin. “Fuh-fuck me.”
Whining, “Give it- give it t’me, Toru–”
He blushes.
You didn’t know who was yearning for it more.
Gojo repeatedly spanks your slippery hole with the very rounded crown of his cockhead, sandwiching himself between your bloated lips. And the sight makes him grin, the sight makes him twitch- “Open. Open wiiiide, sweetheart. Tight fuckin’ thing.”
Your knobbly knees ricket as you splay them out shamelessly, “‘Nough teasing. Want it- a-and I want it now.”
Bratty girl.
Though, he always has loved that side of you.
And it’s exactly what makes Gojo depart his hips off of the ground in a sudden rut and fill you up to your brim. Just the plump circle of his tip mazing past your entrance enough to render you stupidly speechless.
You swear you hear him bludgeon just the few inches of his head into your channel with a wet plop! Before your ears ring with something even louder…even wetter.
“Fucking- shit shit shit-” You’re almost letting your mouth sing with a whimper once his gorgeous eyes shutter closed, a cute pout smearing over your face. Gojo’s shifting, he’s restless, he’s planting his feet firmly flat on the floor and bucking wildly. Through clenched teeth, “This is- all- your- fault.”
Suddenly, you’re feeling something warm and thick soaking through your walls. Slathering ribbons of liquid sloshing around your wet inners and mixing with the waves of your aroused slick.
Did he just…? Just from putting it inside?
And, really, you felt so heavenly inside - what was a man to do?
Your gooey walls molding around his length like molten gold, it was driving Gojo crazy until all he could do was wrap his arms around the small of your back as if you were his lifeline. Panting out cloudy breaths against your face, he stares deeply into your eyes and cums-
Your eyes flap open alertly, “T-Toru– did you just-”
“Shut up.” He’s huffing, gnawing on his wobbly lower lip like chewing gum. To shut you up, he’s shoving your face between the plummy cushions of his pecs. Grunting when your tongue comes out to suck his rose pink nipples. “I’m just- I’m- ngh–”
Just fucking his globular wads of seed until you were overspilling, is what. Pumping the bottom of your pussy so full that you’re feeling him smear sticky streaks down your cervix, the gluey-texture making your back arch for more more more-
“Can’t help that this p-pussy is so fuck- filthy.” He’s trawling out syllables from the back of his hoarse throat, a thin line of saliva leaking from one end of that fucked-out grin. Eyeing the plapping of his cum pouring in bucketloads out of you and onto his skin, “That you’re so…”
Can’t help that he’s been dreaming of this since forever.
Gojo didn’t have to say a word, because the massive puddle formulating from between your icing-topped folds was chatty enough. Really chatty, in fact, that the man finds himself nodding away blearily with every shrill squelch! from down below.
Humming, “Mhm— real t-talkative, aren’t you, pretty girl?” His pants puncture with a few breathless titters, watery gaze flickering between your sweaty face and where he was disappearing. Depraved. “Nicer than her, too.”
Lips falling into a partially-offended, partially-delirious oh! your brows furrow, “S-so mean. Don’t make me- ngh- don’t make me g-get off, Satoru.”
“Get off, huuuuh?” He’s drawling, hands pushing you down even further along his blushing red cock. You were so insistent and fiery, it made him so much fucking harder. And it was cute, the way you’re flinching when his tip throbs even fatter. “If you wanna ngh- tap- tap out, jus’ say so, my girl.”
“Never.”
“Never?”
Rolling those beautiful eyes of yours, “You’d tap out first.”
Fuck yeahhhhh, he was shifting his hips just a little to make you feel how much girthier you were making him. The clingy sides of your walls snatching on the way his crownhead pulls taut, stretching your innards to the very max. “No. You.”
He doesn’t know if you even realize just how much more damp you’re getting. A syrupy wet patch already formed and growing on his v-line, dribbling down to his twitchy balls. “Scared, Nightwing?”
“I’m not even trying, sweetheart.”
And with that said, only now do you realize just how true his words are.
Two impressive hands interlace on the crown of your sticky scalp, pushing you- bullying you down like some glorified ragdoll.
Your thighs twitch as if you were unsure whether to clench or spread. You can feel Gojo’s sweltering hot cock squeezing and squeezing his fully proud length inside of you - you didn’t even realize that he hadn’t bottomed out yet because he was simply so big.
But when he did finally fit all the way?
God, it felt like he was drilling his split-ended tip right into your lungs.
“There we go- thereeee we go.” Gojo breathes out thickly, and it felt like something leaden in his tummy was finally unraveling after all this time. Finally stuffed inside your pussy. “Knew you could t-take me- heh. S’biiig, isn’t it?”
Really big.
And every shallow bounce of yours made your pulse burst near your throat, stars sparking behind your burdensome eyelids when he pinpricks tiny speckles of pre on your most favorite spots.
“Yeah yeah- ride me.” He grapples at your scalp and pulls. “Fuckin’ ride me. S’all yours n’ I wanna see you ngh- milk it.”
“Gods- ohhhh gods.” You’re shrilling out in a strained pitch when he jerks upwards and clashes into your g-spot, your nails claw ragged lines on the carpet as if you’d just been thrown to the wolves. Stupid now. Hips jerking away from his tantalizing pace-
“No running.” Gojo spits, pained. One hand curling around your throat and dragging you down to smack the backs of your thighs against his weighty balls, the other cupping your face delicately. His long, textured tongue laps up the salty pearls of your tears with looooud slurps. “Wh-where the ngh- fuck do you think you’re going?”
You didn’t even have an answer because every possible one was being fucked out of you. Brutally.
One sharp jab. Two. Three into your tender alcoves and you feel like collapsing, your front melting into his toned one, drool spilling out in spit-loads.
It’s all you can do to gyrate your waist back and forth in sloppy circles to meet his pace. Looong figure eights that made Gojo’s thighs shudder, and your clit scratch his creamy happy trail. There were so many thorough inches being fed into your cunt, probing deeply. Over and over and over-
And no matter how full you were he’d keep rutting and rutting. Like he couldn’t stop. Rotund head sagging down your cervix to leave streaks of pre and he was still pushing.
Gojo bores up at you with glazed eyes, saliva-glistening lips parted ever-so-slightly while he pounded up into you as if in a daze.
You’re swearing his dilated pupils have formed into hearts- “Mmmm– love you, my girl.” He carries out a tender kiss on your forehead, and a rough squeeze on your throat. Jostling your lolling head back and forth ever-so-slightly, to dab his digits in a seeping puddle of slick and push past your lips. “Love fucking you. Being haaaaa– fucked by you…”
It’s not often that anyone can catch Gojo Satoru off guard.
But you’re not just “anyone.”
With your honed expertise, all it takes is one jackhammered thud! into the back of your pussy - two - before you’re flipping your ravenously glissading bodies over.
“Then f-fuck me properly, Toru.”
Maybe he heard your words through the static-y buzzing in his head, maybe he didn’t. Either way your tone makes something inside him twitch, full-bodied.
And you don’t think Gojo even registers it beyond a stuttered ohhh–! at first, you don’t think he even realizes the way he’s immediately sprawling you out flat on your back and bending you into a rude mating press.
Still not slowing down. Still not faltering.
Ah, you don’t know if you’re a genius or just plain stupid. Because you still manage to yelp, “S’that- s’that it?”
As if on primal instinct, he’s letting out a growl near your mouth. “Hah- haaah– Y’know…I-I’m reeeeal flexible, my girl.” Your calves burn with exertion once he throws them unceremoniously over his shoulders, core tensing in a way you can’t help but ogle. “Real flexible.”
At first you didn’t understand why he was telling you this. At first.
Before Gojo drags his large feet up, up, up until he’s planting them where you can see - sweaty thighs lugging forwards where he’s bending you in half and then some.
It was so cute how pliable you were underneath him, manhandled to every whim and want and need-
This brand-spanking new angle was everything.
Thrashing into your springy cervix - hard. Stretching out deeply-seated sweet spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. It makes you feel so fucking filthy at the sting of his papping balls bruising your ass like never before.
And his tip is so greedy, feeling the swashing splash of his own seed dripping all over your walls and still bursting to erupt with more. He could tell he was close, aligning himself to crash into his favorite target of your g-spot.
“Fuck–” Your mindless legs threaten to close - not that he would ever let them. “So much. Fuck me, p-please.”
“What was that?”
“Please…”
“What was that?”
“Please!”
Gojo’s hunched over, seethingly red in the face. Ivory bangs half-way covering his intensely half-lidded stare, stray spatters of perspiration hit your chest like bullets.
“Gonna ngh- fuck you properly.” He spits, hands ghosting over your tummy - namely that globed bulge he was fucking into you. A mere nudge of it with his thumb leaves Gojo’s breath leaving his lungs in a sizzling woosh! Sculptured chest vibrating, “Gonna breed you properly. Gonna…”
You’re flinching when fingers waft over your nubbed clit, the stark volts of electricity prompting your ass to hit back even rougher against his sharp pelvis.
“Want it, Toru.” Wobbly arms wrapping around his flushed neck to pull him in close. He looks at you lovingly, while he fucks you like he hates you. “W-want you to ngh- breed me.”
And that does it - for the both of you.
Gojo Satoru’s breath hitches with a cry, balls achingly tight. Needy. “Gonna make you m-mine.”
Running headfirst into your highs, it hits you like a tidal wave. You don’t know where you’re seeing white from; the flurries of stars speckling your vision, or from the torrents of cum Gojo pours out past your sloppy entrance.
“Your p-pussy–!” Gojo bursts, drilling into you as if he was crazed. Fat tip swirling around your pretty insides with decorative ribbons of pure white, his cum seeps into you thickly and you swear you can feel him well up the door to your womb. “O-ohhhh your pussy your pussy your- p-pussy, takin’ me so well.”
“Fuck me-” You tug on his pink lips with your teeth and it makes Gojo empty out another few webbed streaks of sap into the bottom of your pussy with a thud! Brows furrowing, “Deeper.” Even though he was so deep you think you might burst. “Harder.” So hard you felt raw. “More.”
You were already overspilling, the throes of your burning hot orgasm just barely letting you register the splat-splat-splat of his cum pumping in n’ out of you.
Two of his slender fingers urgently scoop those few escaping globs back through your pussylips, Gojo’s girth so wide that he doesn’t even have to try to plug you full and tight.
“A-all safe and sound.” He’s patting at the cumflated outline on your tummy, cylindrical and round. Your walls were so plump and tight with him that just the simplest dig had you squealing. “A-all…”
And Gojo looked like he could purr if he could.
All fucked out and satisfied, the pussydrunken grin on his face seemed permanent - and so was that tender glint in his eye. Peeking up at you through long lashes, he leans his head over to listen to your juddering heartbeat, “All mine.”
Your tummy lurches, and you find yourself smiling before you can stop. But it’s not like you wanted to stop.
In fact, you didn’t want to stop at all.
“That last one’s a tie.” Your voice scratches the favorite crevices of Gojo’s brain; so mushy and melted that it takes a long while before his lips drop into an understanding oh! You sweetly peck his lips, “Rematch, Nightwing?”
Fuck.
His poor, overworked cock twitches.
Fuck.
And of course, it was a rematch with the two of you.
Of course, the one rematch turned into two. Into three. Into four. Into- you’d lost count after five, and you were sure right now that you couldn’t even do any maths past that.
After breaking Naoya Zenin’s loveseats, after splitting his desk literally in half. Eventually, you’d either forgotten about the man himself and your fate, or you just didn’t care. You were so fucked dumb that all you can cry is a broken, “Sa-to–ru!”
Because if there was one thing that Batman taught in his rigorous training scheme, it was stamina.
Gojo was taking you from behind right now- well, that was being generous.
He was slumped down over you until his abs were liquefying down your arched spine, head buried deep into the clammy crook of your neck. Swirling his sensitive cock all around your tenderized insides, thighs trembling where he was pinning the both of you down onto the floor. Too sloppy and fucked to even try anywhere else.
“M’here—” Gojo drawls out, heavy tongue stumbling over the sounds. He pats the cute tummy bulge that he’s responsible for first, and then your gushing pussy. Pulling you to him, he really was acrobatic, “M’here. Toru’s h-here, my sweetheart.”
Fuck- those last two words make him jetstream out a sweltering few beads of seed. He couldn’t even cum properly anymore.
Driving into you until every voluminous mass in his body was now packed intensely between your snug walls, he shifts inside of you with a sloooow gyration and feels the knotted mess he’s made.
“My sweetheart–” Gojo’s biceps bulge where he’s shoving your head into the soft carpet, into the pond of saliva that just won’t stop leaking from your parted mouth. His words depart in a cracked plea, “My girl.”
“Y-yours.”
Maybe you’re cumming, maybe you’re not - you don’t even know, at this point.
Half-lucidly aware of the faint tingles shooting up your spine, and making your temples throb. Gojo himself feels out of control, hips reeling back, back, back to slam into your jiggling ass.
He’s pawing himself a rough handful of your fleshy mounds once he throws his head back and lets his aching shaft jolt. Straight from his drenched base, all the way to his overstimulated tip- exhausting out one bead of pre. Two.
Before Gojo cums dry.
“O-oh.” His teeth snag near your pulse, wet splatters of tears soaking your skin. Something animalistic twinging at the back of his cottony mind at the way you literally milked him until he was dry. Despite himself, he laughs. High-pitched. Crazed. “S’a- tie- s’a tie, I went e-easy on you…”
Somehow, you’re managing a grin. “My hero~”
And Gojo was just about to open his mouth - maybe to counter back something nonsensical, maybe to ask for a rematch over n’ over until he passes out.
But what happens instead is that overly familiar metallic gate explodes open.
You have to blink away the clingy fog in your eyes in alarm, and you’re embarrassed to admit that it took longer than you thought. Dammit, he really did win that last round- ah, rematch.
Still stunned, you can barely even dredge up some semblance of dignity as a towering man in a red helmet and skin-tight black suit walks in. Past his sexy biker vest, and those muscles upon chiseled muscles, you think you see- yeah, it really is. A red Batman logo.
Red Hood.
A low snicker sounds from underneath his mask, swiftly being taken off to reveal a man so pretty that you feel your jaw slacken.
He runs a hand through silky, waist-length black hair, amethyst eyes glinting with amusement and something…more as he takes in the sight. Long lashes fluttering, he lets go of a specialized machine gun you assume was used to break down your cage. “Yo, Satoru.”
“Suguru.” Gojo gruffs out in a condensed gasp, though he makes no move to stop. None at all. Still balls-deep, and rubbing his tip down your spongy cervix. “Wh-what- fuuuck, don’t squeeze like that, my girl- took ya so ngh- long?”
Red Hood- Suguru, waves his other hand airily, only then do you see the knife clutched in it. The extremely…bloodied knife. “Ah, y’know~ Had to clean up some messes. Toji wanted revenge on the Zenins, the usual family drama.” Eyes flashing, “He’ll be up once he’s done to ah…join us here.”
Oh god, was the entire Bat Family here? You get the distinct feeling that this was not just “usual family drama.”
But you can’t say a word when the other man bores his piercing gaze onto you next. Tone smooth and syrupy, “So…Prowler, I’m assuming, by the ripped up costume?”
You feel your skin heat. “The one and only.”
“Geto Suguru, gorgeous.” He pulls out a tiny spherical gadget that looked exactly like the one Gojo had been toying with hours- days? ago. “I already know your name, Toji and I heard it over and over. Which, by the way, you should remind that idiot Satoru to turn his microphone off.”
Ah, that explains a lot. And wait- it was on this whole time?
Shit.
While Gojo only huffs out a pant of laughter, planting yet another deep jackhammer into you, you feel the apologies bubble to your lips. That is, until-
“Unless you want someone to feel…” Geto licks his lips slooowly, bangs swooning over his sleazy gaze. You watch with widened eyes as a hand falls to his bulky belt, carnally. “-left out.”
A/N. Mhm what happens when ya let a girl listen to Nightcrawler.
Plagiarism not authorized.
More Posts from Grapesandraisins and Others
all works are intended for a eighteen plus audience. reblogs & comments appreciated!!
ପ multi headcanons ଓ
how they brat tame you.
being a brat ‘n spitting their load out.
no nut november.
hit it from the back.
too sweet. (cw aphrodisiacs)
slippery when wet. (cw squirting)
hiding your moans in bed.
she’s a super freak.
gimme gimme more.
three’s a crowd.
ride it like you own it.
but that dick was a 10/10.
just the tip girl.
ride the dick like a carnival.
scream no bologna.
talkin bodyyy.
slut stretch me out.
fuck me like u want me.
getting a screampie.
ପ oneshots/fics ଓ
★ — SATORU GOJO.
fantasize: you screw your fwb to get over your shitty ex. was it worth it though? probably…not.
sweet tooth: two culinary chefs compete on who can make you cream the most. get it?
fifteen seconds of fame: popstar!gojo needs help on warming up his vocal chords. his solution? right between your legs.
bad romance: you get sandwiched between popstar!gojo & his best friend of a bassist, suguru geto.
poker face: instead of receiving his fifth grammy for the night, popstar!gojo gets a…boner.
alejandro: arguing with the famous popstar leads for him to fire you. what happens when you see him with another assistant the next day?
it’s a match! last friday night: you end up ‘accidentally’ matching on tinder with your best friend—then you hook up with him, then the L word gets thrown around. damn!
★ — FUSHIGURO TOJI.
mission failed: nut ruined: you’re hired to kill a famous assassin but instead you end up in his bed.
love me, love me [ not ]: you get arranged to marriage toji. how does a single kiss make you weak so easily?
think i need someone older: fucking your dad's best friend was so wrong but felt so right.
darlin can i be your favorite: you fuck your dad’s two best friends and one of them is you ex-boyfriend (shiu kong)
one of his girlssss: your dad’s best friend finds out about your side hustle of being a camgirl. oops!
★ — SUGURU GETO.
sweet tooth: two culinary chefs compete on who can make you cream the most. get it?
jailbreak: you’re a correctional officer for one of your inmates. sleeping with him? not your brightest idea.
bad romance: you get sandwiched between popstar!gojo & his best friend of a bassist, suguru geto.
ପ thirsts ଓ
★ — SATORU GOJO.
throat goat.
that’s what i thought.
thats what i thought boy.
lip gloss poppin.
super soaker.
suck a what.
★ — FUSHIGURO TOJI.
jealousy jealousy.
want you back.
thinkin’ bout you.
tease me please me.
talk you through.
want a taste.
hate me fuck me.
talk to me nice.
★ — SUGURU GETO.
no talking.
just a brat.
wear my hoodie.
★ — CHOSO KAMO.
my love mine all mine.
draw me, do me.
that’s a good girl.
want your taste.
get humbled.
vampire choso.
sharing is caring
good boy.
missed you.
stuck in the middle.
edge me baby.
★ — SUKUNA RYŌMEN.
said it’s her first time.
remember your safe word.
give me one more.
twos better than one.
tease me please me.
stretch me baby.
kinda kinky.
wanna please you.
lick me up.
★ — NANAMI KENTO.
can’t live without you.
do i pass?
test me.
give me more.
my messy girl.
★ — HIGURUMA HIROMI.
on call.
nose rider.
love me harder.
relax for me.
my girl.
★ — YUKI TSUKUMO.
let me be your woman.
sharing is caring.
stuck in the middle.
★ — HAKARI KENJI.
fill me up.
too flexible.
slip n slide.
★ — SHIU KONG.
on the hood.
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aot, blue lock, chainsaw man, tokyo revengers, re-main
!! 𝘯𝘢𝘷𝘪 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘸 ↴
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Just FYI, this blog supports unions. All unions*. I will be blocking anyone I see spouting nonsense about the WGA strike. Screenwriting is real work, and I have seen some ice cold "hot takes" about this strike in the last day or so. Get off your bullshit just because you don’t want your favorite show to be delayed or canceled. I don't want that for mine either, but writers deserve fair working conditions and fair compensation. Asking them to "shut up about it" is equivalent to asking someone to donate their art to you for the exposure. Exposure don't pay that rent, darlins.
Part of a quality show is the writing.
*labor unions, not the police
![GODS AND MONSTERS — Sukuna X Female Reader [oneshot]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/352d1dcbd9b6dc6a1da29766304235a0/a1df10434c85dbb8-6a/s500x750/5624b711274c780cc00736560a4ef32e66e10f99.jpg)
![GODS AND MONSTERS — Sukuna X Female Reader [oneshot]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/acad9835dd02c7952da0746a9fc7ea00/a1df10434c85dbb8-71/s500x750/a631bcc6ebbf2c877099275f310ee20445c6e99f.jpg)
![GODS AND MONSTERS — Sukuna X Female Reader [oneshot]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/bbefa085f9e6a108416c2c6b1a0e7672/a1df10434c85dbb8-20/s500x750/99839db93f884c181933ffde837733c3879942c2.jpg)
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!
![GODS AND MONSTERS — Sukuna X Female Reader [oneshot]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/76e39da59c2fbe2481558b17c77bb7c5/a1df10434c85dbb8-0b/s500x750/746a695a64e3278ee1f3297151d9a60995bb0698.png)
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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Would you come with me?
Pairings: Satoru Gojo x F! reader
Summary: You have been Satoru's best friend for such a long time, and one day he asks you a really big favor- marry him. What!?!? Well, Satoru has to take a wife as he's running the Gojo corporation, and what better way to get them off his back than 'marry'? In name only, just best friends living together for a year to calm them down, sounds so perfect and uncomplicated, right!!! Well, living with Satoru Gojo makes you both question everything, is this fake marriage feeling... real? and can you just be friends after this?
CW: NSFT-MDNI- So much mutual pining and longing, not sharing feelings. This chap- making out, masturbation (toru hehe), teasing and some very kinky ass thoughts, but mostly TENSION. Eventually - Explicit sex, oral sex, it's me so a breed kink. Gonna be a miniseries, Satoru is a lil sweetie and a lil freaky ass- falls hard, ya'll both down bad. WC this Part- 7.5k
Songs for this - Lose Contol // My Boo // Friends
This was supposed to be a oneshot but it's going WAY too long, so I'm separating it into three parts! (Also ty for 5k hehe) Comments and reblogs appreciated <3
Masterlist - Part Two>>>
Part one
“You love me, right?”
You blink a bit, as you stare at Satoru Gojo, he’s been your best friend all throughout high school and even before you’ve known him. You’re sitting across from him, while he’s sipping boba with you, his Gucci shades perched on the bridge of that straight nose, a smirk on his glossy lips. You tilt your head curiously at him, of course you love Satoru, but he only pulls this when he needs a favor.
“What’d you get into this time, Toru?” You demand, he gasps then, affronted, a hand to his chest.
“Excuse me, missy? I’m just asking if you love me.”
You roll your eyes, leaning back in your seat in the little cafe. “Of course, you know I love your goofy ass.”
Satoru takes off his glasses, those swirling blue eyes wrecking you as they have all these years, usually you can put up enough of a barrier not to let them consume you, but apparently you haven’t today. You watch those snowy lashes lower when his eyes bore into you, swirling storms of bright blue, you have to snap yourself out of it.
Being Satoru Gojo’s best friend wasn’t for the weak.
“How much you love me, hmm?”
“What is it you need, an alibi?” He snorts then, shaking his head and wrapping his lips around the straw.
“M’not Suguru, shit… no, I need a really big favor. Like… the biggest favor, but if you agree, I can really make it worth your while.”
“Okay this isn’t a mobster movie, Toru, what is it?” Satoru looks down then, long fingers swirling around the top of his cup, before his eyes snap back to yours.
“What if I said I’d help you with all that student loan debt, and buy you a shiny brand new car?”
“Satoru, I don’t want your money, I do fine okay?”
“Your car is old enough to drink.”
“Fuck off!” Your glare makes him snort in laughter. “It is not, it’s like… not even old enough to vote… I don’t think.”
“It’s old, sweets. Say you also had a place to stay, for free?”
“Satoru this isn’t Pretty Woman-”
“I love that movie!”
“Satoru! What are you getting at!?” You’re crossing your arms then, raising a brow at the lanky man across from you, whose legs are spread wide in his dark blue dress pants, he’s pulling just a bit at his silky black tie.
Satoru has taken a huge role recently in his family business, the conglomerate that owned a million different things, you know how much he detests it, but once Satoru graduated college his family pushed it more and more. At this point he was thriving, doing most of the work with his father taking much more of a back seat, his health starting to deteriorate.
You and Gojo spend more time together than ever, you know he needs his friend, especially with Suguru having left for some time, the two of them not together was always hard on him. You’d been friends with both of them, but Suguru seems to have left and found his own calling, swinging through to see you both from time to time, but much is different since those days at Tokyo high.
Not you and Satoru though.
For the longest time you pined away for him, but you never made that move, aside from one stolen kiss in a closet during seven minutes in heaven, and Satoru had it bad for you all of Junior and Senior year, but the two of you never risked it, your friendship. And now you’re glad to have him in your life, but it’s hard to even think of someone serious when he’s so brightly and firmly in your life.
“This is a huge favor I need, it’s… a lot to ask.” Satoru murmurs softly, you tense a bit, brows drawing together.
“What’s wrong, is everything okay?” Your voice is a low hum as you murmur, he nods just a bit.
“Yeah it’s fine just… I’m being forced to choose a bride, and they have many candidates.” He laughs humorlessly, and your heart breaks for him.
“Shit, I’m so sorry, Satoru. I thought you’d have longer?”
“Yeah, I wish.” He runs a hand through his silky white locks, looking down for a moment, lips that always smirk or maybe pout actually frowning. “I need to just get it done, get em off my ass.”
“That doesn’t sound like you, why not tell em to fuck themselves, hmm? Where’s my Toru!?”
“He’s exhausted.” He swipes a hand across his face, and you lean closer, hand on his leg, his eyes sliding back to yours.
“Do you want me to help find someone? I have a lot of good friends in high families… find you someone not money hungry, not a psycho? How much time do you even have?”
“That’s not what I'm asking.” He puts his big hand over yours now, sighing, leaning closer to you. “I’m asking if you want to.”
“If I want to, what exactly?”
“Marry me?”
“What!?” He chuckles then, but even that sound is exhausted.
“You forget you’re from a top family, nah it’s not the Gojo clan but…”
“Satoru…”
“Just for like a bit? To get em to leave me alone, let me gain some more power. All for show, and I’ll help you with anything, I promise.” He’s clutching your hand, and suddenly the room feels like it’s spinning.
“Wh-why me? We… you… I…”
“You’re my best friend, it would be like being roommates damn near. You could… do your thing as long as you’re discrete.” He murmurs, you want to laugh then, as if you’ve done anything in a couple of years now. “And I would be discrete, respectful, we’d just be in name, appearance. We’re best friends, it will be a piece of cake, and most of all… I trust you.”
You try to digest all the information, blinking and trying not to think the insane thoughts that come with it, but you fail. “But won’t they want… an heir?”
Satoru’s cheeks flush bright pink now. “We don’t need to… I’d never ask you to do that, ever I swear. I’d never be an ass like that.”
You feel your heart racing as you shove back all of the images you should not have for your friend. “I know, I know. But… they’d-”
“That’s the thing, a year or so and they’ll back off. Give me time to fix some mistakes, with dad being sick… I’m not saying I won’t miss him, but how he is running shit? No, I know I can make things better, take down these shitty higher ups who are so greedy. You just could give me more time, and I promise I’ll do anything I can to help you too.”
“It’s insane, this is marriage!” You blink a bit, shifting, his hand now brushing back a lock of hair from your forehead, a familiar gesture that now takes on something more intimate.
“It can just be for show, we’ll be the same best friends as always. I have no one I can imagine even living with but you, maybe Suguru but… he’s not a girl.”
“He has that long silky hair?” You both laugh a little, softly then.
“He sure does, but… you’re prettier to look at.”
“Flattery? Stop that. It’s insane, and… how would we even explain it in such a rush?”
“We’ve been friends forever. Who wouldn’t believe that we got together? It’s even easier. I mean, maybe a couple kisses and things for show, but… you’ve kissed me before, remember?” He’s grinning wide then, you shove at him playfully. “That closet was cramped, hmm?”
“Oh shut it, that was so long ago. I mean, if you really need me, you know I’ll do this for you. I don’t expect you to go all out on anything for me in return.” Satoru pauses now, watching how the light streaming in through the large cafe windows hits your pretty face, as you explain to him that you’d want nothing in return for this!? For this huge imposition on your life.
You have always been the sweetest, best friend he has had, so important to him he’s never dared to cross that line, and he knows it will tempt him to no end to do this, but he also knows he can trust you. “Let me just take care of a few things for you, you can almost see it as a job. There will be events, meetings with the other leaders, trust me. Like anything I can do, you’ll be helping me so much.”
“Alright.”
“What!?”
He’s hugging you tightly to him, you giggle a bit, breathless. “Yeah, I’ll do it… I need a nice car though, Toru. A BMW?”
“I’ll get you ten BMWs.”
“Jesus, no. Silly boy.” You giggle as you look up at him, your best friend, but then your heart falters when he’s just a bit too close.
“Should we practice kissing now?” He teases, voice husky.
“Satoru, you're insufferable.”
He pouts now, and you swallow down the fact that you don’t know if you can even handle kissing his lips. “Aww you’re still such a brat, since middle school.”
“You’re the brat here.”
“Meanie.” You both stick your tongues out, and when he’s walking you over to your shitty car, he wraps you in a big hug in his strong arms, making you melt against him. “Mwah, mwah, mwah you’re the best friend ever.”
“Oh, stop.” He’s smacking kisses on your head as you inhale his cologne, sighing as you contemplate just what the fuck you’re doing. “When do we do this?” You ask, pulling back a bit and looking up at him.
“I can have things going in a couple weeks, something super simple, like I said we’ll just live our lives, just be friends, it’ll be fine. Like a really long sleepover, hmm?” He teases, grinning now, putting back on his shades.
You figure, what’s it hurt? Your apartment is shitty, your car is old, Gojo is your best friend, and you’re down to help him avoid a miserable marriage for as long as he can. You nod then, smiling. “A long sleepover.”
One week of being ‘fake married’ to Satoru Gojo, your best friend
Satoru Gojo thought he would control himself decently living with you, considering how many times you’ve slept over, how many movies you both have crashed out on the couch together. He’s seen you in bathing suits over the years, he’s caught glimpses of your pretty body of course, he knows how beautiful you are and he’s always maintained himself.
Satoru treasures you far too much to fuck it up in any way, despite the amount of times he’s almost lost it. Aside from Suguru, you have been the most important person in his life, and perhaps you’re closer now. But he can’t help but compare other girls to you over the years, and he usually makes quick work of the small relationships that he has with them.
However, what he hadn’t anticipated? Living with you walking around in your fucking panties and a crop top.
You nearly took him out the first morning you were here, when he went to brush his teeth, he has a huge house but of course you went to the main bathroom that divides his room and the room he set for you, it’s the bathroom you used when you stayed over. So he should have maybe anticipated it, but nothing prepared him for you bent over the sink, washing your face.
Your ass looked far too tempting in those damn boyshorts, half of each cheek tempting him to smack it, grab it, fucking lift you by it and slide into you. He was shocked when he was hard from the sight of it, he’s not inexperienced or not used to women, and he’s used to you, but something about the sight made him fucking feral, and he had to literally run to one of his guest bathrooms.
He now was almost used to you walking around in almost nothing, but this morning you’re in some little white tank top and he sees the outlines of the curve of your pretty tits, sees your nipples perked up, begging for his mouth. You’re wiping your eyes, yawning, using his Keurig to make coffee, smiling at him as if this is in any way normal or okay.
He gulps as you turn your attention to him, hair in a messy bun, his eyes struggle not to just stare at your body, he has to shut his mouth because it’s just slightly ajar. Satoru, a man who sees women naked frequently, fuck he has business meetings at strip clubs, nudity is nothing. But he can’t take it, take how your breasts are calling for him, how your thighs shift.
“Good morning, Toru! We have that event tonight, right?” You say sweetly, as his heart hammers in his chest, and then you feel his gaze on you, making your nipples tighten, more apparent as you look where he is now, biting your lip. “Shit, white isn’t the best color huh? How embarrassing… it’s kinda cold…”
“Yeah, cold.” He clears his throat, stepping closer, and your eyes drink him in, shirtless and built so perfect. You’ve seen him this way of course over the years, Satoru had no issue pulling his top off to work out, play a game of ball, but something about him in his soft sweats that show too much makes your brain run awry.
You should be immune to it, the god-like body Satoru Gojo has, how fucking perfect he is built, how pretty he is, but something makes your tummy heat up lately, especially when he comes closer, blue eyes lidded. “Um, I’ll make coffee?”
“Yes please.” He smiles sleepily, far too pretty, and you have to remind yourself, as you have all week, that you’re not with him, not truly.
It feels too easy, too comfy.
That was the point though.
“Got it.” You turn now, setting to put the pod in, tiptoeing to get his sugar, he chuckles deeply, reaching above you now, far too close to you, his bare chest pressing against your upper back. Your fingers grip the counters, feeling the cool granite of them, your breath catching.
“I’ll put them a little lower.” He teases, smirking as he sets them down, leaning a hip on the counter, and you smile, pretending to be calm, like your heart didn’t just beat out of your chest.
You’ve literally hugged this man every time you’ve seen him, you’ve even crashed next to him, why is he fucking with you so badly!? You suppose his presence in pieces was just easier to cope with than anything, but now your brain keeps having ridiculous images. Him having you up on that counter, your thighs spread, so intense you drop the spoon, it clatters to his tile floor.
“Shit, sorry.” You bend down, and your breath is right against him, over his thin sweats, and you look up at him, creating the worst images of his best friends he can ever imagine.
“It’s… fine.” He clears his throat, turning so you don’t see the clear evidence of what you’ve done.
“You okay, Toru? Tons of sugar, like usual?”
“Yeah.” His voice is gruff, as he glares at his cock, willing it to go down, you blink curiously at his back, wondering what’s wrong. You clear your throat again and hand him the cup, stepping next to him, he takes it, having put his cock up in the waistband of his boxers now, smiling nonchalantly. “Thanks sweets.”
“Of course! Can we go over a few things later today, before we go? I don’t wanna fuck anything up.”
“Of course we can. I also ordered you a dress and some jewelry, that cool?”
“Oh what? I have dresses, pretty ones!”
“I know, it’s really uppity bitches there though, you need something top notch.”
“Oh…” You trail off, a blush decorating your cheeks now, making you look even more tempting. “But you don’t know my size?’
Satoru brushes a tendril of hair that’s come out of your bun then, smirking just a bit. “Think I don’t know your size, sweetheart?”
“I… um…” Satoru has you flustered, dammit. “Oh?”
“Mhmm.” As if he hasn’t eyed your body a million times over. “It’ll be here later, I have to go to work for just a couple hours.” You nod then, for some odd reason wanting to kiss him, but you bite your lip instead.
“Sounds perfect, I have the day off!”
“Even better, go take a nice bath and relax before we deal with the snobby old fucks.” You giggle at him, you have always loved how he speaks of rich people, when he’s filthy rich, but Satoru? He’s very different.
He’s just…
Satoru.
Satoru’s heart doesn’t hammer in his chest, it almost falls out after he’s got his three piece pinstripe suit on, adjusting a skinny silk tie and peering at his silver Rolex, seeing what time it was, as you appear in front of him. The dress he picked out was a lacy black one, perfect for evening, but the way it hugs your every curve, the way your breasts are pressed up in that top?
You do a nervous spin, revealing your pretty back, the curve of your spine, the v neck so deep he sees hints of the dimples on your back. You turn back around, eyes glittering, enhanced with a little mascara and eyeliner, your lips the prettiest shade of red he can imagine. You look…
Beautiful.
Is that even the word?
How does he even explain it, when he’s speechless, when he feels his ears heat up at just how nervous he is to be in your presence then, eyeing a delicate gold necklace that hits just so in the hollow between your collar bones. You’re tilting your head to the side, hair falling softly in curls you’ve put it in, clutching your pretty little evening bag.
“How do I look, Toru? You look so handsome, but when don’t you.” You tease, and he tries not to look at the slit showing far too much of your pretty thigh, so tempting to slip a hand up it, find your surely pretty little pussy.
“You look…” He takes a breath, trying to act somewhat normal, smiling then. “You look… hot as fuck.”
You giggle then, rolling your eyes. “Oh whatever!”
“You look… amazing. Really.” He steps to you, giving into the temptation to brush the backs of his finger across the apple of your cheek, then across your jaw line, watching your breath catch, your red lips part, showing a hint of your little bottom row of teeth.
How would that pretty face look so fucked out?
God, it’s been a week, he needs to stop.
His hand falls, and you barely hold yourself together, breaths coming quicker and quicker. “You look beautiful, sweets. Gonna make quite the impression.” His husky admission makes you blush further, looking down and eyeing that little knot on his tie, as it’s like the entire room is holding its breath, everything so overwhelming, his nearness, his scent.
“Thank you, really for this dress. It’s so beautiful, and this.” You touch the pretty gold necklace, just making his eyes watch your pretty breasts rise and fall.
“Of course, it’s part of this, you know.” His little admission breaks you just a bit, for some insane reason, you felt like this was some date? You rein yourself in just a bit, smiling.
“Yes, but thank you. Shall we go, hubby?’
“We sure can, wifey.” You both laugh, the friendship of years prevailing finally, when you slip into the back of his limo with him, trying to ignore the feeling of his strong thigh pressing against yours, burning through the silky layer of the dress. “So remember the story?”
“Yeah, it’s easy to think of it happening, friends falling.” You then panic, as his blue eyes catch yours in the dark of the limo. “I mean-”
“No, of course it is. I’ll say that… I started falling in high school.” Because he did, god he did. After you all are about to be at the event, he notices it, your nerves, this just wasn’t your scene. “You look perfect, really.”
“Oh no…” He leans close, cupping your face, but it feels too good, your lips are too close.
“You do, gonna knock 'em dead, yeah?”
“We both will.” You smile tremulously, inhaling the night air greedily as you both walk up to the event, being ushered in. You’re clinging around his elbow as he casually goes about it, going into Mr. Gojo mode, you’ve seen him do it plenty over the years, still keeping his charm and sarcasm, but he’s just a force, the way he plays them all.
Knowing Gojo wants to take most of these people down is thrilling in its own way, you’ve always been enamored with how he fights for his principles, how real and raw he truly is with you about it. How humble when he’s come from everything, but still he knows that role he must play, and play it he does, his hand pressing on the small of your back as you two make small talk.
“I always thought of you two falling for each other.” Says your mom now, yes even your parents had to think it was true.
“I did too… so sudden though? Young love.” Gojo’s mom says, tossing back her silky long locks with a smile.
“What can I say? Your son is hard to resist, he’s so persistent. Like a cute little puppy.”
“A what!? Brat.” He’s glaring, but your parents and his mom are laughing, and you know it works, being real.
“Aren’t you two so in love?” Another person says later, as they observe Satoru placing a little peck on your temple, and he smiles with ease, not realizing the entire mess he’s making you.
“A beautiful couple. Gojo, you chose well.” One of his work friends says with a grin.
“We’re very lucky, both of us.” You say softly, stopping Gojo’s heart, when you peck a little kiss on his neck, tiptoeing in your heels, he turns then, your lips far too close, so close you taste the sweetness of his breath, and your eyes lock. “Aren’t we, Satoru?”
He blinks, realizing… you’re just helping him, and you’re nailing it. He tries to shove back the odd fluttering in his tummy, tilting your chin up. “We are lucky.”
The night ends up with plenty of dancing, plenty of schmoozing back and forth, and plenty of both of you being the perfect team. It was so easy, you both knew each other like no one else, the answers flow, the dancing flows, you’ve both danced in school before, you’ve partied together. You’ve been a plus one even as a friend.
Too natural, too perfect.
You soon need a breath, as you feel far too much as Satoru dances with a lovely girl, you recognize her, Gojo dated her and she’s a family friend. You assume she was a candidate for marriage as you recall her family ties, but seeing someone in his arms suddenly makes your heart break.
It’s only been a fucking week!? Can’t you keep it together!?
Later as you both get home, you’re taking off your shoes, wincing as the heels are off your feet, and Satoru looks at you curiously. “You okay, sweets? Kinda a long night of assholes, huh?”
“Oh it’s fine, Toru. Truly. Um… I recognized a couple girls there.”
“Yeah, they run in the same circles.” He takes off his jacket, rolling up his sleeves of that crisp white dress shirt, revealing the veins of his strong forearms, addling your mind further, how fucking attractive he is when he loosens that tie.
“Um, I know you said discrete, will you be… bringing them here?”
Satoru blinks at you, head tilting, soft white hair falling just so. “What? Bring who here?”
“Um, her, or any of the girls there really. If so I think I’ll probably… wanna know if you don’t mind? So I can make sure I’m in the room or whatever. A little notice?”
Satoru walks to you now, your head is tilted back when he hooks two fingers under your chin. “You think I am interested in them?”
“They’re beautiful. And we’re not together, so it’s fine! Just… a little notice would be cool?”
“And you, what if you bring someone over.” His jaw tenses, his words surprisingly sharp. “Will you tell me?”
You laugh softly. “That won’t even be a thing.”
“In a year?”
“It’s… never been a thing really.” You realize then, that you are almost spilling it, the fact that the entirety of your experience is one fuck in college, a two pump event that involved nothing really.
His brows draw together in disbelief. “Never? You don’t…”
“Listen, we’re best friends, but that’s private. Okay?” He nods, stepping back and rubbing the back of his neck, looking down.
“Shit I mean you date a bit though?”
“Yeah, I do. But… it’s… I need to get out of this dress.” You say then, suddenly rushing to your room, leaving Satoru’s mind whirling.
How do you think he wants anyone when you’re here killing him.
“Toru?” You lean your head out from the bathroom a few moments later.
“Yeah?”
“This is embarrassing, but the zipper is stuck, and it’s so expensive… I don’t wanna fuck the dress up.” You murmur, he smiles, feigning ease as he steps into the bathroom, peering at you in the golden gilded mirror.
“No worries, got ya. Huh it is a little stuck…” He gently tugs at the zipper, humming a big. “Um… hang on I need to pull it up a bit.”
“Sure. Be careful!”
“You’re worried about this when I could buy you ten more tomorrow.”
“Still!”
He smiles at your reflection, hand palming your bare back then, making you bite back a gasp, body shifting in desire at just the touch, your eyes shut so he can’t see them rolling back, but he sees those goosebumps everywhere. He unzips it then, revealing lacy panties that make him pause, letting the dress fall, you’re catching it at the front, gasping.
“I think I got it.” He says huskily, unable to stop his fingers from trailing up your delicate spine, blue eyes so bright in the mirror they wreck you, while you barely hold the material on. “Need any more help?”
“No! I mean… n-no.” Shit shit shit.
You’re soaked from a brush against your back!?
“Got ya.” He smiles just a bit, leaving you now, resting his back on the door, hand running across his face, curious how he’s throbbing with precum from seeing your fucking back.
Two weeks of being ‘fake married’ to Satoru Gojo, your best friend
You arrive at his work, the coworkers all greeting you so friendly, as his assistant Miwa escorts you, giving you both soft smiles. “Your wife is here Mr. Gojo.”
Satoru looks up in surprise, you’re in your pretty work dress, looking all cute and professional, holding a bento box in one hand, a boba in the other. You’re smiling brightly, as his lips part in surprise. “I had an early day and I thought I should bring some lunch?”
“Oh… oh thank you… Miwa if you could?”
“Of course, I’ll give you some privacy.” You hear her giggle and you smile at Satoru, looking as he’s leaned back in his big leather seat, smiling softly back at you, eyeing your hands.
“I get lunch made for me, shit I am lucky with my fake bride.” You snort, rolling your eyes and walking up to him, setting them on the desk.
“It seemed wifey to do? But also I really do have a short day, figured you might be hungry?”
Fuck you’re sweet.
Fuck you’re pretty.
God, you’re looking at him like that, leaned over just a bit, his eyes darting over your body that tempts him every day more and more, but your sweetness ruins him, the thoughtful nature you’ve always had, but now so geared to him. Is it all for show, he can’t believe it is when you open the bento and show him sushi, onigiri and greens placed so prettily his mouth waters.
“You ordered this, yeah?”
“No silly, I’ve been practicing. You helping me have some time off work has literally given me so much time… I hope they’re yummy? Oh, I didn’t make the boba though.”
“Why didn’t you get anything?” He asks, frowning.
“Oh I’m good, I just was dropping it off. You’re probably busy, taking down the villains huh?” Satoru’s words catch in his throat, looking you up and down again, before looking back down at the food in front of him.
“Stay a bit, it’ll… look good you know, us having lunch together.” He murmurs, lying out of his fucking teeth, as if he didn’t want to eat you then and there.
Your thighs spread, panties to the side, lapping you up?
Yummier than this. Killing him to imagine.
“Oh, um… where do I sit, over here?” You go to scooch a chair over, and he stops you.
“Nah those are heavy, come on.” He pats his thigh, earning your eyes widening, pulse fluttering as he smirks. “You’ve sat on my lap at parties plenty.”
“Y-yeah… but it’s… I…”
“C’mon, have a couple bites please, I’ll feel bad if you did all this for me and didn’t eat.”
“Satoru, you have bought me a new wardrobe and a car, can’t I make some sushi?”
“Sit.”
You sigh, it’s true you’ve sat on his lap, but the past two weeks of constantly being wet around him are taking their toll. You smile brightly, sitting on one of his thighs, praying he can’t feel it, the heat from your pussy as you’re pressed on a muscled thigh, and he’s picking up sushi with chopsticks, popping one in his mouth and moaning, rolling his eyes.
“Fuck that’s yummy. You made it for real!?” You giggle, nodding and trying to be more comfortable, it’s your Toru, right?
“It’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it. That’s got eel sauce on it, this one is the spicy crab.”
“You like spicy crab, here.” He pops one to your lips, and something feels too intimate, on his lap like this. “Open.”
Open.
Open!?
The pictures of you hearing him that while on your knees makes your cunt dribble, you shift nervously, clearing your throat.
“Open, silly.”
You do as he says, as he pops the roll in your mouth, and you chew, feeling the flavor hit your tongue, he grins now, popping another into his mouth, and you wonder if it’s easy for him to be this way. He’s so natural at it, sipping his boba and humming happily, all while his thigh presses where you’ve been aching for him, forcing yourself not to touch your pussy to the thought of him.
You can’t do that, it’s fucked.
You try to get up, and he presses you down, big hand on your waist, far too close when he leans the thick straw to your lips. “Take a sip, it’s so good.”
“Oh… um sure. Thank you.” You take a sip, lips pressing where his had, and he can’t stop focusing on how good your lips look, wrapping as you suck, cheeks hollowing and making his cock twitch.
You both sit there then, staring at each other, breaths coming just a little too quick from you, as he sets the drink down, but you stay on his lap. “Y’know… the event tonight, we should probably actually kiss? There will be cameras all over.”
“Kiss!?” He laughs then, shaking his head.
“Yeah, I mean it’s kind of part of it. You’re comfy with it right, not gonna fall head over heels.”
“Psh.” You already have, long ago, it’s all fucking hitting. “You’re so cocky, Toru I swear.”
“I can’t help it, my lips are so talented, you know. Makes girls fall.” He brushes his silky hair back, winking at you then, and you swear you can hear your heart in your goddamn ears.
“I remember you were pretty good.”
“Yeah, you remember?”
“Yeah it… was my first kiss.” You mumble then, looking away, sipping his boba nervously, he blinks rapidly, blue eyes wide in shock.
“What now!?”
“No biggie, we were like seventeen…”
“But you… never told me?”
“It was embarrassing.” Satoru’s mind races to that night, as does yours, as you sit in his office, just the hum of the fan and soft music playing from his little device, staring at each other, both in a haze.
You and Satoru Gojo were thrown in a closet together, you’re sighing as you’re pressed against him, peeking at your phone in the dark to see the time. Being too close to Satoru wreaked havoc on your brains at times, though you have known him so long, you couldn’t lie and act like you didn’t think of things… kissing him, maybe dating him? But you know they’re silly thoughts.
“Don’t freak out, we’ll just let 'em think we made out.” He says now, and you turn your eyes up to him, adjusting in the dark, but even here you can see the glint of those bright baby blues.
“Y-yeah. You’ve kissed plenty, though.”
“You haven’t really?”
“Um, no.”
Satoru’s gently turning you to him now, tilting your chin up while his eyes adjust to see your pretty face, you’re thankful it’s so dark that he couldn’t see your blush. “We could practice, you know.”
“Satoru!”
“What? A little practice between friends? You know you wanna kiss me.” He taunts, teasing tone as he grins.
“No way!”
“Not at all? I’m hurt, sweets.”
“Oh whatever, it'd be weird, we’re too close. Do you kiss Suguru?”
“Oh yeah, have you seen him?”
You both laugh then, when he leans down just a bit. “Well, if you kissed Suguru, I feel left out now.”
“We can’t have that. Show me what you do know, I’ll advise.”
“Kissing expert, hmm?”
“Mhmm.” You lean up then, as he bends down, your arms wrapping around his neck, you pause as his hands press against your waist, making your heart race. “Ya scared?”
“No! Goofy ass.” He’s chuckling until you lean up, pulling him down for a kiss, and your lips meet for the first time.
Your first kiss.
He pauses, your lips connecting just do something. Satoru at seventeen had done plenty of make out sessions, but they were fun, something to do, exciting at times, but nothing prepared him for it. For your sweet lips on him, tingling them, his heart beating in his chest.
Satoru falters, and he never falters.
He doesn’t slip his tongue in, he doesn’t pull you close, he freezes, so in shock at how good it feels, how right it feels. You ease back, nervous then, clearing your throat, as he hasn’t moved his lips. “I’m sorry I’m not…”
Satoru yanks you against him then, pressing your body on his, kissing you over and over, so deeply, taking your breath away, you’ve never felt something like this, you’re trembling as you feel his tongue slip against the seam of your lips. “Open them up for me.”
This isn’t silly Satoru, goofy ass friend, his husky declaration destroys you, and he uses the gasp to slip his tongue inside, swirling with yours, igniting something between you that night that you will both avoid talking about for years. When he presses you against the closet door, sighing into your lips, and you’re being picked up in his arms, as your mouths move over each other.
You both pull back, gasping as the timer goes off.
What was that!?
“If I’d known it was your first kiss, maybe I wouldn’t have… gotten so excited.” He says with a little pink on his cheeks.
“No, you didn’t cross any lines, Toru. Don’t worry.”
He wants to laugh, because oh, he wanted to.
If he’d had more time he’s sure he’d have lost it, whatever control he has now he did not have as a seventeen year old. “Was it a good one at least?”
“The best a girl could have.” You say softly, smiling at him then, making his heart race when you both sit there, far too close, and he swears he can feel your heat against the hand that’s on your thigh.
“I know I’m pretty amazing hmm?” He teases, trying to hide the raging storm inside of him, you giggle, shaking your head and standing finally.
“You’re a conceited little shit.”
“Hey!?”
You’re both back at ease, as he stands now too, looming so tall over you, his presence making it hard to remember why you’re here. “I should go.”
“We should practice, though, yeah?”
“I mean… you think we’re that rusty?” You try to feign ease, he smiles then.
“Yeah, we gotta be. We’ll bump our heads together or some shit.”
“Okay… um…” You take a sip of his boba then, clearing your throat and smiling up at him. “Let’s practice.”
Satoru brushes his thumb across your chin, your ass pressed against his desk and you’re pinned between it and him, your hands sliding up his starch white dress shirt slowly, eyes lowering to his glossy lips. He presses a kiss against your lips, and you then know it, more than ever.
Nothing is like kissing Satoru.
Nothing is like his lips making contact with yours, as your eyes close, the feeling of him working his lips over you so gently, making you tremble, making you ache in ways you have tried to hide, to avoid. He pulls back, cupping your face and exhaling, his snowy lashes low over cerulean eyes, his lips parted just so, as you both stare at each other, speechless.
You don’t know if he’s as affected, and neither does he.
“How’s that?” He asks softly, and you lean up, your fingers enwrapping in his hair, as two of his hands bar you on either side.
“Maybe one or two more? To look natural.” You whisper, and you expect a smirk, or something cocky, conceited, but he slams his lips on yours now.
His tongue is swirling against yours in moments, as you both devour each other, hungry and needy, kissing each other desperate, messy now. A kiss like you’ve never had, as his hands press against your hips, then he lifts you on the desk, your thighs around his hips, making you cry out. The sound causes him to lose any semblance of control, he’s biting your lower lip, moaning into your mouth.
“Mmm!” Your hands pull his hair now, as his slip up your bare thighs, and then you feel it, the hardness under his slacks against your heat, your panties already sticky and damp, and you pull back with a gasp.
Your eyes shoot up to his when you break apart for just a moment, and Satoru’s breath is coming in little pants, his fingers scrunching your skirt up your hips, yanking you closer. You whimper now, head falling to the side, and he’s kissing down the side of your neck, your breasts pressing against his chest, dying for him inside you, as he’s ready to fuck you right on his desk.
“Satoru… what are-” You’re trying to whisper when his lips find the shell of your ear.
“I need-”
Knock knock knock.
You both pull back, his eyes dilated to the point they’re dark, his hands still on your bare skin, as his eyes dart down your body. “Yes?” He manages gruffly.
“Twenty minutes until your meeting Mr. Gojo.” You hear, and he curses softly, turning away, trying to calm his nerves, his racing heart, all while you’re hopping down, trying to pull yourself together.
You’re almost darting out of the door when he sees you. “Shit, please…”
“No, no. We um… were practicing?” You manage to whisper, as his hand is over yours on the knob. “I got carried away.”
He laughs, without humor. “You did?”
“I did. I’m sorry I don’t even do this.”
“Just how… inexperienced are you?” He asks softly.
“A lot.”
Because she can’t help but compare every man to Satoru Gojo.
“Well, you can’t tell, you’re an amazing kisser.” You blush furiously, looking down, biting your lower lip.
“You don’t have to say it.”
“You are, shit. My god.” He brushes your hair off the side of your neck, exhaling, breath tickling you, setting your body on fire.
“Thank you, so are you. We will be good to go tonight, you think?” You whisper, so nervous to say what you want to, and he pauses, clearing his throat, his hand falling off your shoulder now.
“We’ll kill it. Thank you again for lunch.”
“Of course.” You brightly smile, trying to remember.
It’s fake, it’s fake, it’s fake.
As you’re repeating it in your head, Satoru is struggling to not lift your skirt up and fuck into you right on this door, he wouldn’t care if the entire office heard you scream his goddamn name. When you slip out the door he rests his head on it, the cool wood doing nothing to his overheated skin, hands clenching into his fists as he tries to calm himself.
What was that, what is that with you both?
He promised he would be respectful, he has to try to rein it all in, he has to make sure your friendship isn’t ruined because he can’t stop himself. Satoru tells himself that as he wills his cock to go down, but he can’t stop himself, soon he’s stroking it right in that seat, remembering feeling your pussy pressing against his length.
God he needs you, he shuts his eyes, imagining sinking inside you while he twists his hand up and down his length, desperate for any relief. He had some regulars he would call back in the day, but not only does it feel so wrong to do so, he doesn’t want anyone but you, he can’t even put a vision in his mind but you.
‘It’s fine, baby girl you can take me’ he murmurs softly, snowy lashes shut as he imagines fucking into you, stretching you god he bets you’re so tight, and he could feel that warmth, imagining you as he spits down on his pretty cock.
His pink tip is oozing precum while his head rests back in his office chair, he can still smell your scent, that shampoo you use, the body spray you have worn since high school, it’s you. He’d kiss every inch of your body, have you so ready you beg for him, fuck you so good tears pool in your pretty eyes, he can damn near feel is as his hand strokes faster and faster.
He lets out a soft groan, muttering a ‘that’s it, you’re so wet f’me, huh?’ to the very image of you on that desk, tasting your sweetness on his lips, while he pinches his tip, the precum and spit wetting his cock enough that the sound of him stroking fills his office. His breath quickens as he thinks of shoving your thighs up high, slamming into your cervix, ruining you.
As he cums white hot spurts all over his palm he cries out softly, the release feeling so good, he’s fought it, touching himself to you, but he can’t anymore. He quickly cleans up, panicking as he sees what he’s done, jerked off to one of his best friend’s in the world, someone who trusts him, and he’s not even holding himself together for shit now.
He exhaustedly leans his head against the desk as his alarm for the next meeting starts, struggling to remember this isn’t real, but his cock sure didn’t fucking realize that, and by the time he’s home and he sees you all dressed up for the next event? He almost has to go jerk off again.
You’re smiling all nervous in this beautiful glittering gown, and he’s once again speechless, trying to pull together his usual charm, but it falls flat. You look at him, concern clear on your features. “Everything okay Satoru?”
“Of course it is. Look at you.” He smiles, putting on the best show he can, as you wonder if you’ve over thought that kiss, he just seems so normal really.
Maybe he just got carried away, should you act normal too?But how can you, when just the brush of his hand on the small of your back shoots desire straight through your body. It’s only been two weeks, how could you hold out an entire year?
Sooo to have written this in a oneshot would have been INSANE but expect the next two parts very quicklyyy ;) Gojo is DOWN BAD my god- smut in the next hehe.
Part two
taglist #1: @plaggi @baepsays @victoria1676 @flwerie @luringfantasy @moncher-ire @allonyyourmom @kindablackenedsuperhero @evelynxxo @jkslaugh97 @sugurusfavemonkey @ninikrumbs @s4ikooo1 @bunheadusa @twinkling-moonlillie @chameleonsoul111 @nina-from-317 @naammiii @whippedbyikemen @alygator77 @uarmyhopeworldwide @1satoruu @theclassbookworm @jud3thedude @isleqt @mcromer2999-blog @silvarys @orikixx @jiejies-corner-store @assbutt-inlove-with-koreans @lordbugs @ari-sa @blue-musingss @minaa-06 @uhnosav @cvixmei @seeiin @indiewritesxoxo @loafteaw @moonlitwitchdaisy @beachaddict48 @miizuzu @honeybunnnnie @honeybunnnnie @gojosukuna2268 @haruhatake @strychnynegirl @jinjen @give-em-hellkid
#CANDY-CRUS(H)ER! t. fushiguro + s. kong
ৎ୭ sum. so, you unlocked a new hot character who just so happens to be toji’s best friend. greaaat! what’s not so great, you might ask? you thinking you can take both of them at the same time . . *digital side eye*
wc. 8.2k
warnings. fem! reader, rent-a-dilf! au, thręesomes, dilf! toji, loser girl reader, unprotected, shiu is sassy for no reason, size differences, spít-roasting, double pęnetration, overstim, praise, ōral (both), dry humping, spanks, manhandling, cowgirl dp, rubbing tips, dirty talk, shiu has a dick piercing, bręeding, bromance? LOL idk, tummy bulges, implied multiple rounds.
an. hi this literally picks up after the first fic! (/ε＼*)
“i feeeeeel like . . i just walked into a bad porno.”
as you’re snuggled up against toji with a burly arm of his wrapped around you, your eyes gradually enlarge. instantly, you couldn’t help but allow your curious eyes to wander at the brand new character who toji apparently already knows.
shiu fuckin’ kong . .
with a lit pink cigarette (that you personally customized for him while dressing him up) sticking from the corner of his lips, your eyes take in his naturally suave appearance—he’s fashionably dripped in a business suit just like how he appeared in the game. it’s a dirty jet-black color, and his hands were already buried in his pockets. he’s tall too, very verrrry lean, you’d guess around the same height as toji.
shiu’s got a demeanor that just screams raunchy respect. as you continued to stare, you heard toji smack his lips from behind your ear . . and oh was he already irritated.
“tch. out of all people, you match with him?” toji grumbles, still feeling the soreness in his calves.
shiu snickers, walking up to the two of you before he grabs your hand. softly, he brings it up to his lips, caressing a thumb over your skin so lovingly. “glad we finally get ‘ta meet, pretty doll,” and shiu’s got a thick husky voice that’s got such an attractive smoky rasp. you could feel your heart fluttering just from that simple gesture, and then shiu’s eyes fell toward toji.
“ah, and… toji? i didn’t know the game allowed bums on the roster. how.. cute.”
narrowing leafy eyes straight back at him, toji lets out a snarling grouse. “anywaaays,” and he turns toward you, a near pout on his lips. “sugar, you can like to delete him now . . or whatever.”
you giggle. “i can’t do that, i wished for him, silly.” and you could already tell toji was getting jealous.
he practically reeked of it, but that’s probably what happens when you get too attached to fictional characters…. oops!
toji huffs at your answer and within a blink of an eye, your attention is already wholly fixated on shiu.
just …. like …… thaaat.
you’re still nude with the fluffed covers shielding your bare chest before your eyes start to rove and wander yet again. shiu hunches over the side of the bed with the same cigarette sticking between his teeth.
in a way, now that you think about it.. he actually resembles toji.
they both had dark black hair — growing, ruff facial hair with strong, citrusy cologne scents.
shiu’s was far much louder though, even louder than toji’s whose you’d always be able to smell from a mile away.
however - you’re so kept up in your thoughts that you don’t even realize he is now cupping your chin.
“my my, girl. look ‘atcha,” shiu’s low voice pitches naturally, taking a subtle glance at a very annoyed toji before tittering. “mhm, mhm. gorgeous face with an even more gorgeous body, my kinda woman,” and as he continued to speak, brushing a thumb over your pursed spit-glossed lips, shiu tilted his head. “toji couldn’t handle a fine girl like you, pretty doll.”
“like you could.” toji cockily crosses his arms, bulgy veins in his arms protruding within each confident flex.
“oh i can, sweetheart,” shiu looks at toji while he’s still caressing your chin.
you held back a giggle, hearing toji’s ‘weirdo…’ of a mumble slip past his lips at the little petname shiu gave him.
the air felt substantially thick, and you had to repeatedly blink again, and again and again..
this still didn’t even feel real.
the more the soft pad of shiu’s thumb smears alluring circles over your lips, the more you can already feel butterflies bubbling up inside of your tummy. looking down back at you, shiu hums hoarsely. “tell me, dove. what do you want, hm?”
“i…” you timidly croak, nearly gasping once you can feel yourself throbbing underneath the thick covers.
fuck- you just couldn’t think straight. but if you were being completely honest though, you stopped thinking with your brain a long time ago..
you were now thinking between your legs, because as the throbbing above your thighs started to quickly accelerate, you whined out a pretty, “i want you both.”
“oh, please.” toji scoffs, the mental image of having to share you nearly making him gag.
not that long ago, he had one night with you after you wished for him - just one night, and he wanted you all to himself.
he still couldn’t get over how good you rode him, milking him until he was whining for more.
“you heard her, toji,” shiu pried his finger back away from your wet lips, giving his best friend a teasing pat on the shoulder. “the pretty girl wants us both.”
“technically, she wants me. you weren’t even here in the last fic-”
“the… what?”
they started to bicker right before your eyes and you couldn’t help but eye roll.
they were practically arguing like an old married couple.
arguing over . . well, you.
you laid back against the plump pillow as you watched the two broad beefy men before you talked each others ears off. toji was still shirtless, and your eyes landed on his back sometimes expose his entire ripped physique every time he turned to his side.
countless, lightning-shaped scratches ran down his back like stripes, and you felt a bit sheepish knowing you did that.
toji rubs a hand over his neck before hearing a slight ‘crack!’ and groans from the release of tight muscles. you didn’t know why, but the simple action alone made the throbbing from earlier pick up again.
“finee,” toji ends the argument, a pout still displayed on his lips. “whoever makes her cum the most wins.”
shiu smiles to himself—sexily positioning his tie with a single hand before they’re both now turning their gazes toward you.
this was your cue to dramatically gulp, and you did before feeling a cool heat of air starting to wash between your thighs.
as the two men stood before you, you already knew one thing for sure. .
you were about to absolutely crushed - literally.
it didn’t take long at all before you found yourself bent over - arched on all fours with your tongue already rolling its way out your wide open mouth.
your hands, as wobbly as they were, pierced deeply into the rickety mattress. the second shiu lays his tongue flat against your wet cunt, you couldn’t help but mewl out a cute ‘ooooooh!’
he’s positioned behind you, his rosé-colored cigarette tossed in your nearby trash can as he holds your hips in place. meanwhile, toji’s in front of you with a hand placed on top of your raised chin.
“sugaaar, eyes up here,” he grunts, feeling your hands quickly claw their way at his freely nude cock.
toji was still tender from earlier and oh - you knew that entirely.
it’s probably only been about a few hours and he was already missing your pretty tight throat wrapped around his dick. he also couldn’t help but miss how warm you felt from the inside, how good you always clamped on his achingly needy shaft.
“ ‘m gonna need ‘ta see you work that mouth again for me, can you do that?”
“mhm-” you moan, caught off guard once you hear a wind of spit loudly preparing itself in shiu’s mouth.
thick, stubby fingers vertically swipe down your clit before with a messy ‘spat!’ - shiu ends up creating a sticky mess right against your entrance. you’re shivering, starting to lose your train of thought the second his crooked lips invade your folds with a barrage of open-mouthed kisses.
shiu’s messy - and he knew right away how to put his tongue to good use.
two, large hands cup your rocky hips before his pointed nose starts to zigzag its way down the sopping slot of your pussy. “yeaaah, girl, arch more against… mmph- my fuckin’ face,” he grunts, and you’re whimpering before wrapping a hand around toji’s veiny length.
like always, it stands tall before you—his tip a pearly flashing pink with remnants of dried cum dribbling from each stout side.
shiu could feel your hips frantically raising and spotting that cute, adorable arch of yours grow higher from each twisting curl of his tongue inside of you.
as his parched tongue reaches even deeper angles, he flicks his tip against toji’s cum that still lived inside of you. remnants of it still plugged into you, and he didn’t bat a single lash at all once he started to ‘clean’ you up.
“hah- such a sweet taste.” he purrs, using a thumb to spread the right cheek of your ass wider.
shiu lays his tongue fully flat, starting his way from the very top of your hole before slurping down. each loud squelch echoed through your ears, bouncing through each of your thinly made walls.
you honestly felt bad for your neighbors . . then again—this entire time, you sort of forgot about their sheer existence.
oh well! fuck them!
girl, not actually..
but toji and shiu were the exception though!
with shiu still devouring your cunt, you feel toji shuddering once you start to glue a few sloppy kisses against the tender head of his cock.
it’s poorly swollen still, with a blushing pink as a few veins decorate the sides. your hand that wraps around his shaft starts to give it a few pumps, feeling him already melting like wax near the wick of a candle.
“mhm-” his hand grips onto your hair, tightening by the very second. you couldn’t think straight with shiu repeatedly fucking his tongue in and out of your dripping cunt though.
every time his stubbled mustache would brush against your entrance, you’d holler out countless pretty moans. “sooo . . fuckin’ pretty,” toji rasps, cupping a big hand underneath your relaxed jaw.
you’re still stroking him, hearing the wet sloshes of your palm against his skin pitch louder before he groans. with ravened bangs running through his halfway-open eyes, toji brings his angry red tip towards your glossy puckered lips. “ ‘y gonna open for me? f- fuck, that cute throat of yours looks a bit empty.”
instantaneously, your tongue sticks itself out and you moan once toji starts to play with you again.
smack! after smack! - and he’s just softly hitting the teary cream-coated tip of his dick against your needy, sobbing tastebuds continuously..
a curving smirk starts to run across his lips as he watches that pout slowly marinating against your saddened features. “aww, look at that ‘lil frown, so cute,” he teases, your tongue still perfectly rolled out of your lips. shiu’s still eating you from behind, nibbling every few seconds against your nub just to earn a whine out of you. “manners, princess. y’know this.”
“please,” you’d spat, mentally cringing each time his hardened cock slapped itself against the tip of your tongue. you wanted more than just a cheap millisecond of a taste. so so bad..
whiteish strings of pre-cum and your saliva mixed from every time he’d pull his length away from your poor twitching lips. toji hears the wretched whine cutely gargle its way out of your voicebox, and he hums in amusement. letting off an irritated grunt, you poutingly correct yourself. “pretty.. please.”
“atta fuckin’ girl,” toji praises with a slight grumble, greeting your spit-glossed lips with yet another kiss.
he was feral, the sounds of teeth clashing only grew louder by the second as you started to pulse again.
shiu grunts, feeling you sneak a hand near the hem of his slacks. as your wet lips were still being tackled by toji’s, your thumb ghosted against his cottony boxers. the waistband folds from your touch and shiu breathes sharply, inching closer toward your face.
“aw, don’t hog her, toji,” shiu whispers, bringing his pursed lips to yours.
now - they were both kissing you, fighting over who could make your lips swollen first.
you moaned, tasting treacly slings of saliva depart from all sets of lips. toji tsks silently, poking his tongue inside your mouth while shiu playfully nibbles against the bottom of your lip.
you felt so hot - both of them started to put their hands on you, feeling all over your body and you couldn’t help but arch from all the burning touches.
“f- fuuuck.” you’d whimper, your tummy tucking inward in excitement at the feeling of shiu’s fingers skipping down your tummy.
they both had one thing in common for sure. they were fuckin’ handsy..
shiu’s feeling down your chest and toji’s got one hand holding the back of your head, another caressing down your thigh.
“hah- still a messy girl.” toji utters, squeezing your cum-glossed lips together before leaning up close, bringing you into a very hot kiss. you’re moaning, feeling toji’s callused open palms explore their way down your body - pulling your hips up oh-so eagerly.
his knee finds its way between your legs and you pout again. instinctively, that’s when your body starts to hump against his meaty limb.
“heh- she’s so excited,” shiu observes in a smoky whisper, getting up and pressing himself behind you. his lips were still slickly coated with your juices and he licked it clean - his tongue flirtatiously sliding around every damp spot.
with him being the one that was only fully clothed, you whined, feeling shiu’s hardened bulge of a tent press up against your bare ass.
he’s brick-hard, and shiu lets off a guttural groan once you playfully buck your ass back against him before rubbing against toji’s thigh once more. toji’s fat thumbs create a sensual path down your body, locating each pretty curve before grabbing your hips.
cocking his head slightly, his tongue dips inside your mouth before he starts to suck against your slippery wet tongue.
it’s a slow…..intimate action and with peeking flapping eyelids gradually opening, you could see his hooded green eyes already eyeing you.
he’s basically eye fucking you - intently locking eyes with you whilst his tongue battles yours in such a wet yet competitive way.
whenever toji kisses you - he’s just so greedy.
barely even giving you any time to breathe, he sloppily maneuvers his tongue against yours, groaning at each wet share of slaps! that resounds from both smacking lips.
his tongue even slithers its way out of your mouth for a split second, licking down your chin just to get it a bit wet.
shiu rolls his eyes, feeling the bulging tent in his slacks grow the more he stares at you and toji hungrily make out with each other.
“my turn,” shiu grumbles, softly pulling you away. gasping for breaths of fresh air, your lashes flap open for a second and you face shiu.
darkened brown eyes meet yours before he leans in, giving the left side of your neck a nice quick whiff. “mhmm, dove’s already startin’ ‘ta smell like me too, toji..” he whispers lowly, starting to suckle his lips against numerous tender spots of your skin.
you moaned, feeling toji nibble at your other shoulder with his hands meeting your rickety hips.
shiu’s touch was a bit softer, and more gentle while toji was more firm and hungry..
shiu’s painfully slow kisses (that almost felt like the entire world was pausing in the process) made you tingle the deeper he sucks against your tilted neck.
once he finally gets up to your face, shiu cunningly grins once he sees you cutely closing your eyes.
“ah, what’s this? were you expectin’ another kiss?” and your pout was your answer. a sweet, pouty frown tugs at each corner of your lips before shiu kisses the side of your mouth. “aw, poor thing. don’t pout, ‘m just messin’ with ya,” and within milliseconds, shiu’s lips finally slam against yours.
you felt a cool rush jolt down your body, moaning at the grasping, rough hands of both men touching each part of your body.
you’re still grinding against toji’s bulky thigh while whimpering against shiu’s lips - relishing in the faint fresh leavings of smoke on his tongue.
shiu’s got a bittersweet taste to him, and he brings a hand toward the back of your head, softly tilting it to a certain degree. “so needy for more.”
toji starts to breathe heavily, and he’s holding your hips in place, making you stay still. with airy pants leaving out of your wheezing lungs, you couldn’t help but circle your cunt around the center part of his thigh with your hips by shimmying yourself just a bit.
a candied whimper cuts out from your larynx at the sudden tenderness between your legs and you can feel shiu slowly smiling against your lips. “mhm? gonna make a mess on my thigh, girl? ‘s that why you can’t stop humpin’ on me?”
“mmph-” you’d moan as an inaudible response, your noises muffled due to how shiu’s tongue was still shoved down your throat.
you felt so tender. your entire body, it felt like you were on fire - between your legs, specifically.
you couldn’t help but wind your hips back against toji’s thick thigh, your hands finding their way toward your breasts to touch yourself while grinding against his leg.
“mhm, tryna give us a show, too?” toji grunts, verdant squinting eyes roving down your pretty chest.
your grinding doesn’t stop - in fact, you were only starting to get quicker.
shiu’s taking your breath away, literally, and he now starts to lap up the drool that drips down the crevices and corners of your chin. “such a diiiirty girl, didn’t know you get off ‘ta humpin’ my damn thigh, baby.”
“f- fuck, ‘m gonna hah- ohmygoddd!” you’d break away from shiu’s lips abruptly, your back arching as your hips finally come to an overwhelming halt.
you’re cumming - hard, and your cute battle cry of an orgasm was always music to their ears.
you’re feeling hot all over, and you’re steadily whimpering as you shamefully bury your face into the crook of shiu’s neck.
toji’s thigh was still propped up underneath you, slowly soaking with your slick wet mess as your ass continued to pathetically rock back ‘n forth against his veiny leg. “u- ugh, fuuuuck fuck!”
shiu reaches between your legs, giving your overstimulated cunt a niiiice squeeze before raising a brow. “y’er actin’ like this ‘n we haven’t even been inside ‘cha, yet.” you shivered, gasping once you felt the silvery band of shiu’s watch rub against your cunt.
slow - deep, thorough circles..
he’s smearing the front-protected part of the jewelry against your folds, feeling you cutely pulse against the protected glass.
it steams up right away from your wetness, and shiu could even hear just how wet you were.
your pussy was quite vocal—it was loud, sobbing and crying out little wet squelches of its own and you were still so so sensitive..
it’s cold the more he rubs it against the entrance of your pussy and he snickers at your reaction. shiu then starts nipping kisses near your neck once your body starts to shudder from the touch alone.
again, so sensitive..
the watch band instantly gets wet due to the syrupy stickiness that ran between your thighs, rubbing against the leathery strip. “she’s a wet girl today,” toji grunts, sliding his thigh from underneath you.
for some reason though . . you still couldn’t fathom that this was actually real.
toji fushiguro and shiu kong.
both sandwiched between you, sharing you- treating you like a mere rag doll.
then again, maybe this was a sign for you to stop reading so much fanfiction in your spare time and maybe…not get your back blown by literal fictional fuckin’ characters!
but fuck that.
why even bother to care when you can just be delusional right here…right now?
you’re interrupted from your thoughts once more once shiu pulls you into him. “dove- just a bit ago, you did say you wanted us both, yeah?” and you gulped, meeting toji’s eyes as he was on the bottom.
he’s laid out, beefy legs spread with his arms tucked behind his head. cocky cocky cocky.
you held back a moan once your eyes trailed down his overly hairy chest. so much of it too…
dark black bushes decorate down parts of his chest with his tummy a bit round ‘n plump at all angles. you’d probably melt if toji sank all of his weight on you. just putting you in a perfect mating pres-
“hey, focus, pretty,” shiu cups your face. you look at him, leaning into his gingerly soft touch and his body heat practically radiates against your exposed chest. “didya hear what i said?”
“y- yeah,” you sheepishly clear your throat, feeling his hands help you straddle over toji. “i can.. i can take you both.”
humming, shiu easily unbuckles his pants and his pants fall to the floor with a loud thuuud!
toji holds onto your hips tight, groaning before starting to give his cock a few solid beginning strokes.
the anticipation merely killed you - you couldn’t help but turn around, eyes nearly the size of table saucers once you see a glimpse of shiu’s cock.
he’s thick, and to top it all off, of course, he had that pretty ‘lil piercing through his dark pinkish frenulum.
prince fuckin’ albert..
you’d almost forgotten- that was yet another detail you decided to customize while toying with him on the game.
you requested for shiu kong to specifically have a dick piercing along with some of the other … vulgar things you arranged on his character.
you’ve heard about dick piercings but it’s hotter and different once you’re up close.
it’s somewhat pretty in a way - perfectly highlighting his tip as the steel piercing hooks over his frenulum.
it’s tucked right in, all the way in… and yet, for some reason… the more you stared, the more you started to feel yourself salivating.
you gulped so loud that you were almost positive one of them heard you.
shiu’s got a plethora of prominent veins running down each side of his shaft and it proudly stands tall, creamily tearing from each pinkish-tan corner with tears of milky precum.
“heh- i told toji ‘ta get a piercing like this but of course, he chickened out. me personally, man-”
“oh, fuck you,” toji grumbles, narrowing his eyes straight at shiu.
you hover over toji’s length which was also sheeny from the very top. it’s almost cute how his entire tip was so mushroomy and angrily flashing with various blushing colors of reddish pink.
they were both super super thick, and the mere thought of feeling them both stretching you out from the inside had your metaphoric panties in a twist. “i gotcha, sugar. look at me.” toji continues.
“oh, f- fuuuck,” you’d inhale deeply, your cunt immediately opening up at the welcoming gradual stretch of toji’s swollen cockhead.
you’re so tender, slowly sinking your way while your teeth bite down onto your bottom lip.
you’ve already felt toji - but shiu…
your heart’s pulse dramatically quickened by the second as you sank sank sank on toji’s fat cock.
“mhm,” shiu presses his chest against you, helping you secure yourself over toji’s lap.
with toji laid back comfortably, shiu’s right behind you with an arm snaking around your torso. a big hand meets its way between your legs, dragging a stubby thumb down your cunt that’s being stuffed with only about a good half of toji’s length so far. “let us hear that extra stretch, girl,” shiu hoarsely coos against your ear, aligning his leaking tip against your hole.
as a soft ‘mmngh!’ comes out from your lips, you land flat on toji’s hairy chest and he catches you with a smug grin, kissing your forehead.
but god - shiu’s stretch was simply out of this world. your eyes widened even larger than they already were as your lips pathetically spread apart, shaping into a surprised ‘o’ shape.
shiu’s stretching you out in every way possible. he’s groaning once he hears the pretty harmony of squelches leaving from both slick orifices.
his hand remains between your trembling thighs before his fingers start to rub against your pussy.
“there it is. that pretty stretch. ugh- there she fuckin’ iiiiis,” shiu reaches for the wooden headboard, nearly in awe at how perfect you were taking them both. your cunt squawks wetly, and your jaw just couldn’t stop itself from hanging.
the metal ring that glues on top of his tip immediately introduces itself against your puckering hole, giving it a sloppy frigid kiss of its own. with both stout shafts leisurely making their way into you, you were already panting like a dog.
“f.. fuck, so fuckin’ nghhh- big.” you’d moan, a sweaty palm of yours instinctively gripping a part of your ass.
with a tiny ‘lil shake of your hips, you started to grasp your bearings—attempting to start up a pace but cutely failing. saying that they were both big though was purely an understatement.
toji and shiu both had girth for days.
every inch drove its way into your gummy walls deeply, easily locating every possible opening they could rummage through.
you probably looked a mess already as your mouth remained open, dribbling from the corners of your parted sheeny lips with globs of drool..
you honestly couldn’t even compare them though.
inch after fuckin’ inch.. they were each huge in their respective ways - rightfully so!
slowly yet surely, they’re both making their way through your clenching insides as you finally start to rock your pathetic hips forward.
riiiight as toji’s cock sloppily plops! its way against your cunt, he’s fatally bottoming out. while he’s made his way past the tight ring of your barrier, you’re shaking against his chest with your mouth cutely agape the entire time.
“good…hah- girl. clampin’ down on us so good,” toji wheezes, already starting to break a sweat. he’s got your hips glued to his clammy palms, lowly grunting each time he feels your body’s grinding against them trying to quicken. “f.. fuck, shiu. she’s…hah- perfect, ain’t she shiu.”
“mngh- yeah, she is,” shiu groans, slowly starting to thrust forward.
you looked so pretty. from this view, he’s seeing all of your pornographically twisting, facial expressions at once.
you’re whimpering, nearly drooling yet again the more both of them fill each hole like it was nothing. you were sooo slick too - too slick, sloshes and squelches singing out of your pussy every time you rockily slide up ‘n down..
you’re damn near full - and your eyes rolled way back at the delicious stretch that curves through every end inside of you.
shiu’s piercing was the very cherry on top—the icing on the cake.
he’s tickling you in your most sensitive spots on purpose, making you whine out continuous wails of his name until your voice grows raw.
“s.. shiu, f- fuck, uugh-” and toji playfully flicks your forehead, hungry for more attention. “ow!”
“i’m inside you too, y’know.”
you rolled your eyes, nearly forgetting you were being double stuffed for a moment before you leaned in to kiss toji.
he grumbles against your lips, a hand creeping toward your ass before leaning into your sweetly-tasting embrace.
toji’s swallowing every individual moan that trickles away from your wet lips - savoring the saliva that lingers on the flat of your parched tongue.
“mmngh,” he’d then grunt, swatting a hand against your ass. shiu’s groaning while still behind you. his hips strenuously started to buck at a much more bumpy pace.
right then though, his waist snaps! right into your throbbing core, causing a single vigorous thrust to make you squeal.
right there-
your pussy clenches…then clamps…then clenches again and you’re feeling them both reach deep deep deep!
each targeted hit was sloppy - wet, sobbing out squelches every time your ass softly bounces back against toji’s warm lap.
your skin flawlessly ricochets against both bodies that were glued against you. “f- fuuuck, harder.” you’d pant, breathlessly whispering between kisses.
toji grunts, watching as you friskily swipe your tongue across the scar that slashes down his lip.
“mm- arch a bit more f’ me, pretty doll,” shiu roughly murmurs, his abs underneath his dress shirt tightening from each pivotal thrust forward.
oh, his hips were just nasty though. shiu’s literally drilling into you now - acting as if his hips had the occupation of a construction worker.
your sweet, sweet whines that were never-ending, filled the room with the addition of your bed’s creaking cries of mercy. lifting your hips, shiu presses a wet kiss against the inside of your neck. “hah- atta girl, stay like that. juuuust like- that.”
right at the end of his gravelly sentence, shiu’s cock punctuates your core so good that you’re just speechless..
dumbfounded.
entirely stupid.
your lips leave toji’s as you’re whimpering, weakly rocking against his chiseled frame that reclined underneath you. “o- oooh my god, ‘m gonna c.. cum… gonna.. -ngh!” you’d gasp, your left leg already starting to shake.
you’re salivating immensely from both corners of your mouth, taking a second to swallow once you feel toji’s scarred palm slide its way underneath your tummy.
there!
as his hand rubs around the spot, he’s pressing his palm over. a bulge starts to form before disappearing . . then forming again.
“mhm, look at thaaat,” he rasps, sliding a finger around the outline that faintly molds a shape.
they’re in so deep - so fuckin’ deep that you’re barely able to formulate words, let alone coherent sentences as you’re just whimpering out the same three syllables of their names combined.
it’s the same wiiiide stretch occurring after each sloppy thrust and you never get over it. you’re still moaning despite your voice already turning a bit raw..
as you’re still rotating your ass around each cocks that stuffed you full, you’re feeling shiu’s hands spread your ass apart juuuust to see your full puckering hole.
he can’t help but pull out every few seconds, poking a thumb inside just to feel you cutely slump back. every surprised ‘ooooh!’ you’d make always made shiu’s dick twitch - and fuck, did you feel it every time.
occasionally, you felt the bushy hair of toji’s base tickle against your skin. you’re steadily arching, feeling every nerve in your body shiver.
“ ‘m gonna..f- fuckin’ cum too,” toji falls back against your sage velveteen cushioned pillows. you almost forgot how he was still sensitive from before. all because of you.
you’re laid right up against his chest, studying how every few seconds, his expressions would twist.
his hazed, green eyes nearly resembled a color of an emerald—toji’s gruffly groaning, maintaining a solid grip on your hips before huffing out an abrupt. “s.. sugar, ‘y gonna milk me again, f- fuck.”
“always such a baby,” shiu murmurs, snickering once he sees toji’s glare from a blurred side glance. your cunt was so slick, covering them both from the veiny shafts down as you rock rock rocked against them each.
sweet yelping ‘ah’ ‘s would yelp out of you as the pressure continues to build.
their mashing tips were competitive—harshly smearing gluey kisses all around your cervix.
you’re moaning, leaning back against shiu’s chest as he gives your pussy a soft spank. “mhm- pretty doll, cum with toji,” he leans into your ear, his voice a hushed dirty whisper. “make him whine for us, can you do that f’ me, pretty girl?”
“y- yeaaah, shiu,” you’d reply, grabbing his wrist and making him cup onto your jiggling breasts. they were just so pretty - loosely springing free as you bounced, grinding your entire weight against toji’s lap. “fuck, f- fuck.”
meanwhile, shiu’s hands continue to explore your body with them both still puncturing each of your wet orifices.
that same cruel stretch that would occur every few wet split seconds had your back arching, toes submissively curling, jaw idly dangling.
you swore that these types of scenarios only happened in the fanfictions you read, sort of like like this one—i mean, the ones you’d randomly stumble upon in your spare time.
now that it was actually happening though, you never wanted this moment to end.
“fuck, ‘m cummin, - hah,” toji groans, his breath catching in his throat once your hand wraps around his neck. exactly as your fingers snaked around his thick throat, you felt toji’s dick twitch inside of you.
you were both reaching delirious peaks at the same time, moaning together at the sprinkles of elation that spiked through each vein and axon of your body and his. “u- uuugh, take it all, girl. better take it..”
“s.. shit,” you’d whine, your release forcing you to subtly slow down the speed of your hips as the two of you end up finishing.
it’s a slow rush.. and shiu’s still behind you. his hand that was gripping your breast slowly trails its way down your sweaty chest.
as you’re riding him again - toji’s life flashes before his eyes… at least in a video game sense.
it’s almost as if you could see the little pixelated hearts floating above his head, and one suddenly disappears the moment he comes inside of you.
two lives remaining left ! ! !
“g.. god,” he whimpers huskily, clammy sticky black bangs gluing to his forehead. toji’s washboard abs clench as he’s shooting blanks, shooting said blanks deep into your womb. it’s hot, bubbling into your cunt as you writhe around each dick that is stuffed inside of you. “ ‘m gonna marry y’er pussy one day, baby. sooo . . fuckin’ good.”
“hah-” shiu pants, a hand resting on your back, tracing a few imaginary lines down your skin. “like he can even afford a marriage license anyway. i’d have to be the sugar daddy for you both.. heh. not that i’d mind.”
“shut … up.” toji grumbles, wrapping his arms around your torso. you’re still moaning, feeling the gooey masses of cum creaming all down your slit, creating a pearly sheet of slick that eventually coats shiu’s cock also.
it’s a mess-
that much was apparent, but toji could tell by the feral little look in your eyes that you wanted more..
greedy girl.
and more did you get - because once it’s your turn to ride shiu, you felt a feeling of butterflies you’ve never felt with toji.
shiu’s got a different kind of aura to him, an aura that is a liiiitle bit different than toji.
like it was mentioned earlier… just a single glance at shiu kong and you just know that he’s the type of guy who demands respect.
“tch. guess i’ll just go fuck myself,” toji rolls his eyes dramatically, a pout fully displayed on his grim face.
he was obviously kidding and, it was cute to see toji so jealous. he’s had a sweet taste of you for one time and he already wanted more - more of you, and all for himself.
but you did summon shiu from the game also, so double the fun . . right?
you couldn’t help but giggle, watching how toji’s eyes would darken a bit at seeing shiu starting to align you on his wet tip. “shiu- make sure she’s nice ‘n we-”
“toji sweetheart, thank you- but i know how to please a lady,” shiu sassily replies with a tone of suggestive jest, one hand already gripping your waist. “up up, pretty doll. raise those hips f’ me real quick, yeah.. good girl-” he instructs in a raspy voice, feeling your slick cunt gush a bit.
it’s a loud ‘pssssh!’ that squeaks right between your legs, and you’ve seen gnawing on your lip as his pierced cock’s starting to rub circles around your drooling entrance.
“mmh- fuck, shiu,” you’d moan, trying to position yourself right. he’s slouched back with his tie all ruffled, messily about to pull itself out of his suit before he grunts. the coldness of the dick ring makes you shiver, gasping once his hand sharply smacks your ass. “spank me h- harder.”
“mhm- i planned on it, gorgeous,” shiu gravelly whispers against your ear, bringing the center of his palm against your backside once more.
swat! swat! swat!
and your skin jiggles upon impact, pitchy whines leaving from your dried-out throat each second. “ooh, good girl. y’er spoilin’ me with allllll this perfect ass, ‘m afraid, dove.”
toji gets behind you, and you feel his callused fingertips run down your spine once shiu starts to finally lower you down.
it all happens in agonizing slow motion, and your lashes flutter at his wet lips painting even wetter kisses down your spine. you were always a sucker for his touch—frowning at each wet peck that glues against your skin like paste.
“how’s it feel, sugar?” toji murmurs, rough textured hands dragging further down your skin.
your entire body rocks back against his chest, whining loudly once the crude stretch starts to commence again.
shiu grunts, feeling you start to move - seductively swerving your whole ass around in all kinds of circles and shapes.
gasping for each languid breath you possibly could, you whine out a sweet little, “good- mmh, fuck so good,” and you could feel your mouth watering at each millisecond that passes.
his thickness… oh- you’d probably never ever get used to it.
shiu’s fat tip doesn’t take long to disappear inside of you, inviting itself inside of your walls before you give him a loving tight grip.
the pierced crown of his cock massages its way around your cunt, moving its way around before its shimmies into your slobbering core. “s- sooo good, shiu. don’t stop.”
“hah- can see why ya like her, toji.” shiu grits through his teeth, combing a hand through his dampened black tresses.
with his right hand damn near glued to the left jittering cheek of your ass, shiu gives you another hard swat. you’re fully riding him now, the bed’s sudden creaking supporting that very apparent fact before he groans.
“she fits reeeeal nice, mmh- her pussy’s fuckin’ dangerous,” and as he starts to fan himself, slumping back, shiu starts to lie slouch, letting you take over. “…phewww.”
“told you.” toji grouses, a hand finding its way around his cock that’s pulsing with exciting veins. he watched how you were just perfect - effortlessly working your hips on shiu.
you’ve got a grip like shiu’s never felt before.
each time your ass violently slaps back against his meaty thighs, he’s getting whiplash.
shiu’s entirely taken aback too. his grip on your ass lessens as he stares at you with bleary, hooded eyes struggling to open. “mmhhh, work it, girl. fuck me.. f- fuck me,” he’s lowly grunting, feeling his cock already tightening from the inside.
toji’s next to you, flicking his tongue against your neck before sucking on it deeply.
he’s making sure to savor your taste - and oh did you taste sweet.
sweet like candy, and toji fushiguro’s always been one for an occasional sweet tooth; a sugar rush.
the real rush though, was the way your scent drove him crazy.
toji couldn’t help but briefly break his lips away from your skin, trailing his nose down your neck before groaning.
you tasted sweet but fuck was your scent far far sweeter. it was a mixture of your scent along with the manly concoction of them both. both colognes that were so loud in the air, rubbing off across every single part of your body as you moved.
“atta girl, use those hips,” toji huffs, a hand returning on his cock. while giving his cock a few strokes, he’s pressing himself against your back. “f.. fuck, doin’ so good for us. make shiu cum, baby.”
“ugh- damn, she knows how ‘ta fuckin’ ride.. s.. shiiit-” shiu swallows thickly, taking occasional glances at your ass that merrily bounces right back against his cock.
his pierced cockhead plummets its way deep inside of your pussy, tickling against every sensitive spot it could. “yeah, y- yeah.. yeah… look at me, pretty doll. look at me while you ride this dick like a fuckin’ hah- champ.”
“f- fuck,” you’d moan, leaning forward into shiu. that causes your arch to make an arch and it’s a sexy arch that makes toji groan just spotting it. you’re inwardly dipping your hips whilst his sticky fingertips probe all against the near heart shape of your rotating ass. “ ‘m gonna cum again, shiu.”
with a hand softly going around your neck, shiu pulls you in close for a filthy, hot kiss that makes your cunt pulse almost right away.
toji’s rubbing a hand against your stuffed full entrance and you’re whimpering against shiu’s lips. your body’s still rocking at such a speed that even shiu could barely keep up. as your dripping tongue swirls its way around him, he opens his mouth to give you better access.
teeth fiercely clash into each other as both lips smack continuously. shiu’s starting to thrust into you now, slightly raising his hips just so he could pound into you and it makes you gasp.
“mmph-” you’d moan, taking toji’s hand and making him squeeze against your cunt. a thumb of his swipes down your soddened nub and you shudder, still tongue-tied with shiu.
“f- fuck, ‘m cummin’.” he groans, breaking away from the kiss with your damp lips landing on his stubble.
shiu’s sloppily raising his honed-structured hips into you and he’s hitting you good from the inside. his tip’s greeting your cervix like it’s no tomorrow, and you’re whining once your release smoothly follows.
blanks - the two of you shoot blanks, each cumming hard with both jaws dangling like an earring.
you’re holding onto shiu as sweet little yelps shriek out of your throat. “fuck, f.. fuck!” you’d whimper, toji’s hand still maneuvering circles around your convulsing cunt.
shiu’s eyelids were drooped all the way low - he was exhausted, and yet he’s still got that sleazy grin on his face as he’s pouring pasty stripes into your overflowed pussy.
it’s sticky ‘n slimy, two perfect words to describe the mess that was a reoccurring thing for the two of them when it came to you. he pops a feverish miry knot inside of you before it bubbles its way out, sloppily dribbling down the twinned valley of your cracked open thighs.
“g.. goddaaaamn, girl,” shiu spanks your ass one last time, tears and tears of sweat racing all sides of his forehead.
he’s overly glossed in sweat - fanning himself yet again before falling back against your pillow. “hah.. toji,” he looks up at his friend who’s still pouty, stroking his cock and desperately wishing he was inside of you once more.
you looked so hot though - your arms wrapped around shiu as your ass slightly raised.
your neck slightly cranes to see the mess cascading down your sopping clit and you finally see it. creamy fresh clumps and it’s all flowing down your opening live a river - a more lewd version though. its in such a carnal way at how slickly it drizzles down the slot of your sopping pussy that’s overly coated with such amounts that it makes them both grunt.
“mmh.. such a nasty girl,” shiu continued, gently pulling you off of him before playfully rolling you over. “with hips like those, i… hah- might have to keep her,” snickering once he sees toji’s scowl, he corrects himself. “geez, i mean we..”
♡ ♡ ♡
as you’re still trying to get after release after release, you're seeing nothing but a galaxy full of stars.
it’s probably been many many, various…hell- a plethora of positions and you could barely think straight.
toji and shiu each took turns ‘sharing’ you, which mainly consisted of them constantly fighting over you.
you honestly lost count of how many orgasms they snatched out of your left and right. you were almost entirely sure they’d both forgotten about their little bet - seeing just who’d be able to make you cum more.
“f.. fuck,” you’d moan, flopping back against the bed. you’re out of breath, struggling to catch your breath as they both depart. toji’s flustered and shiu’s reaching for a lighter in his wrinkled pants that laid flat across your bed.
“tooooji,” shiu murmurs, pushing the the second pink cigarette between his teeth. “mmph- be a doll ‘n light this for me.”
“die,” toji glares - but despite his insult, he does it anyway.
you’re just laying flat on your pillow, watching the oddly brief intimate moment between the two as your chest heaves in and out.
with green eyes glaring straight at shiu, he leans in close, flicking a thumb over the lighter’s rusty turning wheel.
with a sudden click! the incandescent glowing flame flashes for a split second, burning into the dry butt of the cigarette.
shiu hoarsely hums, inhaling before lowly purring. “thank you, sweetheart,” and before he could even care what toji’s next response was, shiu gets between your legs.
shiu’s hands were so warm… they spread your slick-dripping thighs apart perfectly, getting a nice view of the mess they both created.
with the cigarette still tucked firmly between his teeth, he swipes a thumb down your buttery-coated clit that’s glittering from the entrance with wads ‘n wads of freshly hot cum. “such a…messy girl,” and he’s so close that his balmy breath wafts against the opening of your pussy.
you moaned, seeing toji licking his lips through your peripherals. tilting his head, shiu pulls out the stick for a moment, breathing out a cloudy puff of air. “toji, c’mere. our girl needs a proper cleanin’.”
“tsk. shiu, don’t tell me what to do,” toji grouses under his breath, already inching his face closer between the sprawled-out arc of your thighs.
so, so pretty -
they each filled you to the very brim. every single orifice was stuffed, oozing with such syrupy amounts. lanky strips of velvety cum plugged deep into your full womb, making you feel warmer than you’ve ever felt.
your toes curled as you sweetly whimpered, feeling both of their tongues create tender strokes against your pussy.
they ‘ahhh’ lowly, sloppily slurping their messes as you’re writhing on each twitching muscle that laps against your runny folds.
“mmnh- don’t stop,” you’d whine, pawing both hands at the crowns of their jerking heads.
instantly, your fingers get tangled with every ravened hair that silky runs through your fingertips.
gawking down with blurred irises, they’re both lewdly eating you out at the same time. shiu’s eyes were closed and he was all calm, a small tiny smile creasing against his lips . .
meanwhile, toji, he’s just glaring at shiu. a vein nearly bulges out of the side of his forehead as he cups his lips around your cunt. he’s eating you out like his life depended on it.
of course- everything with him just had to be a competition.
not that you were one to complain though.
two of the men that you wished for on this stupid dating app… game… whatever it was had you living every girl’s dream.
eventually though, as they’re lapping hot tongues up ‘n down your sticky cunt that’s painting each of their chiseled chins with a glittery wet stream of slick, you lean back moaning.
with your back submissively arching, your toes shrivel into a cute curl once more. they roll their tongues all the way flat, dragging and fucking its entire length inside of you just to hear you squeal.
toji’s dipping his tongue in and out while shiu’s thoroughly licking around every area - and eventually, their tongues end up touching.
but as you’re moaning, you suddenly feel them stop.
panting, you look down, muttering out a quiet, “w- what happene.. oh.”
and much to your surprise (not really), you glance down and see the two of them making out.
making out and eating you out at the same time. shiu snickers, cupping toji’s face with one hand, his cigarette gripped with his extra remaining fingers.
your pussy the third wheel- literally, and their lips mash against each other and your folds as they compete even still at devouring your twitching heat.
toji’s kisses back, grunting once he feels shiu reach between his legs—wrapping a hand around his friend’s length.
you grow meek, watching the two as you started to pulse—they were tongue deep, and toji’s veiny shaft was tender from shiu’s touch alone.
shiu grabbed his dick, rubbing his pierced tip against toji’s and they both groaned upon contact.
the plush textures of both swollen cockheads were so tender - as they rubbed against each other, you heard them both quietly groaning.
toji whined though, it was faint but you definitely heard it.
“i’m…literally….still here guys,” you force a grin, your lashes flickering within each blink.
“yes, girl. we know,” shiu murmurs with slight sass in his tone, reluctantly prying away from toji.
they’re both panting like untamed animals—tasting remnants of you on each of their sticky tongues before finally departing. shiu then turns toward you, leaning in, and gives you a head pat. “i think we’ll take it from here.”
with confusion aching near the left lobe of your brain - your brows furrow, staring at the pair and how toji suddenly bends over.
what in the...
“hm, toji. let’s see if your arch is as good as i remember.” shiu cocks his head, rubbing a finger underneath his chin.
toji grumbles before cockily snickering. “it’s better than hers, that’s for damn sure.”
“excuse m-”
“quiet, pretty doll,” shiu interrupts you with a warm smile. he gives you a kiss on the forehead, seeing the invisible question marks pop all around your head before turning back to toji.
“but, oh yeah? let’s see it then, big guy. show the pretty girl how it’s really done.”
"creature of myth."
pairing: vampire!gojo x fem!human!reader summary: when you receive an offer of marriage from a mysterious wealthy lord, it’s too good a deal for your family to turn down. but nothing could be so perfect... right? content: MDNI (18+ ONLY), dark content, nsfw, gets dubcon/noncon in some spots, yandere behavior from gojo, implied death/k*lling of a character (not reader or gojo), arranged marriage, victorian au, plot that ends with porn lmao, spooky dooky vibes, blood, blood sucking/eating, praise, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, virgin!reader, discussion of virginity, cherry popping, pain, pet names (princess/love), reader is highkey clueless about sex, discussion of masturbation, ideas of masturbation as “sinful”, very minor religious themes, fated “mates”, gojo is highkey insane, coercion and manipulation, like SO much neck kissing, ooc gojo??? (had to alter his character to match a victorian vampire lord LMAO). a/n: PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. THERE IS DARK CONTENT AHEAD. is this a gojo fic or a twilight fic?? Going back to my roots fr fr. straight down to the “SAY IT, SAY IT”. this fic is also way too long my apologies bbs. i hope you like a hefty side of plot with your porn. parts of this fic feel way too cheesy to me but sometimes i eat that up, yk?? this fic was inspired by this amazing work by @rice5x ! and, finally, thank you all for the support on my most recent fics. i'm just getting back into being active on this blog and it's been amazing reading each and every comment/reblog/ask. they genuinely fill me with so much joy. keep them coming hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. banner art by @ndsoda on twitter. wc: 11.6k (sowwy)
You remember perfectly the way your mother’s jaw dropped when Satoru Gojo proposed to you. You’d never seen the man, and you still hadn’t. He’d asked to marry you via messenger, a simple letter delivered by hand with a list of all the things he’d be willing to pay for your hand. Offers of money, land, protection, connection- anything so long as he got you. You’d thought it was a joke. Your father nearly took a shovel to the head of the poor messenger, thinking the letter was some kind of cruel prank, some sort of targeted disrespect. You’d only started to believe when you really looked- saw the Gojo crest embroidered on the man’s suit, the fine leather of his boots. If it was a prank, somebody had spent a great deal of money and effort to pull it off.
You’d asked for proof nonetheless, and you’d gotten it. Documents signed and sealed with a well-known waxen crest, gifts that could only have been purchased by a wealthy lord. The one thing you never got was the lord himself. He refused to see you, to come down from his mysterious castle on the hill. It didn’t surprise you. He rarely deemed town worthy of his presence. He had a reputation as a recluse, as a man who only ever liked to see and never be seen. What little glimpses people got of him were usually through the dark window of his carriage. Still, his appearance preceded him. White hair, light eyes… “haunting” said those who had the luck to see him. Those who went to work for the lord tended to return… changed— if they returned at all.
You accepted, of course. How could you not? You were a peasant family with no status or wealth to your name. The promises Lord Gojo had made would make your parents into aristocrats all on their own. But that left you wondering… why did he want you? You offered him no benefit. If anything, you sullied his bloodline. The question scratched at the back of your mind. It came to you while you ate breakfast, while you washed your clothes, while you weeded in the garden. Some part of you told you that you needed the answer before you ever stepped foot in that castle. You needed that answer, but you’d never get it.
Your wedding wasn’t even a wedding- just a piece of paper that had already been signed and witnessed, once again delivered by a familiar messenger. You signed at your dining room table and… that was that. You were married.
Later that night the carriages arrive. Men flood your home, all dressed in blue velvet, the Gojo crest embroidered on their chests. They seem puzzled when you tell them you’ve packed all your belongings into a measly three bags.
You say a quick goodbye to your parents, drawing them into stiff embraces. You love them, and they love you, but you can’t bear to see their faces as they send you away to a man who couldn’t even show his face for your wedding.
The carriage ride is somehow longer than you’d thought it would be- apparently, the castle’s size makes it seem deceptively close. The trip is rocky and twisty and altogether unpleasant as you steadily make your way toward the castle gates. By the time you reach them you think you’ve probably dozed in and out of consciousness at least half a dozen times.
The castle is even more intimidating up close. Spires that swirl into the clouds, sculptures that stare, doors that look more suited to being locked than opened. It’s… terrifying.
When you finally roll to a stop, you move for the door. When you swing it open you get your fair share of strange looks from your attendants and remember that you should have waited for the footman. Your face heats as you climb out anyway, unwilling to subject yourself to the further humiliation of waiting for assistance.
Your feet hit gravel and all you can do is stare- up, up, up, to where the castle’s peaks disappear into the fog. When your eye flashes to a window on the east side of the manor you think you see a swaying curtain. You tuck your arms around yourself and shiver, but it’s not from the cold.
You nearly stumble over your feet on your first step inside. The entrance hall is larger than your former house, with ceilings that stretch so high you can hardly make out the figures on the frescoes that adorn it. Silver and blue drape everywhere, the Gojo family colors. You swallow when you see a chair that is most definitely worth more than your family’s annual income.
The floors are marble and when your worn heels clack against it, you only feel reminded that you don’t belong here. That question pricks in your mind again as you pass portraits of every Gojo heir to have lived in the last three hundred years. Why me? Why me? Why me?
Your footman deposits you in your room, a place more lavish than you’ve ever seen. You have a four poster bed with a canopy of blue velvet, a window that overlooks a sprawling estate, and more square footage than you’ve ever dreamed of.
“Pull this if you need any sort of assistance, ma’am.”
You turn to see your footman referencing a silver cord at your bedside. You assume it’s one of those contraptions that rings a bell in the servants’ quarters. You try to hide your amazement- you’ve never seen one in real life before.
You clear your throat and give your most ladylike nod. “Thank you, um-” you pause, your brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I asked your name.”
Your footman appears stunned to silence, like he’d never expected you to care about his existence, much less his name. He recovers quickly, though, and forces a small smile. “Thomas, ma’am.”
You smile and it’s genuine. “Thank you, Thomas.”He bows and makes a beeline for the door, but you have one more question. “Oh, um, Thomas-” He freezes, turning slowly on his heel to face you.
“Yes, my lady?”
You cringe at the title. The sound of it creeps across your skin, foreign and… wrong. Why me? Why me? Why me?
You clear your throat again. “Do you know, um, well-” You shift, trying to word your question properly. “Do you know when I might see the Lord?”
There is a pause, a moment of tension and silence, and then an answer. “No, my lady.”
Thomas does not stick around for more questioning. The door clicks shut behind him and then you're left with only the sound of retreating footsteps.
You’re stunned to say the least, mouth still halfway open, more questions on the tip of your tongue. Should you seek him out? Was that proper? Would he come to you? Would he meet you for dinner, perhaps? Surely he would come to your room tonight to… consummate. Would that be the first time you lay eyes on him? When he’s over you?
You sigh. There’s nothing much to be done about it now. You find your way to the bed and sit down hesitantly. It feels like a crime to rumple such primped and polished cotton. You do it anyway- it’s going to happen sometime, right? You fall back against the mattress and don’t fail to notice how utterly comfortable it is. The silvery patterns on your canopy swirl and bend together. You’re tired. You didn’t sleep much last night, anxious for the morning… and it’s only mid-afternoon now. You had time for a nap, right? Your eyes are closing before you can convince yourself it’s a bad idea and then you’re swept away into a world of warm darkness.
You wake with a start. Your first thought is that it’s dark now. Your room is pitch black except for the stream of moonlight passing through your stupidly large window. Your mouth feels dry and your skin is cold, like you’ve just woken from a nightmare. If you have, you don’t remember it. Perhaps that’s a blessing.
You sit up, combing a finger through your hair and laughing pitifully when you realize that you left your shoes on as you slept. You hope Thomas didn’t walk in to find you in yet another unladylike position. A glance at the foot of the bed reveals he might have. Your bags have arrived- all three of them. You eye them with a combination of longing and contempt. They don't match this place. They’re worn and used- everything here is shiny and new. Still, they’re all you have, and all you have left of your life before. All you have left of home.
You stretch your arms above your head, nearly groaning at the burn in your muscles. The carriage ride did your body no favors and you suspect you’ll be sore for many days to come.
You rise, no longer content to lie in bed. You’ve had your rest and, from the state of darkness outside, you suspect your new husband might be joining you soon. The thought twists a certain tightness into your gut, but you push it aside. If that was the price you paid for all he gave your family… then you’d pay it gladly.
You start with candles, finding a box of matches at your bedside. You light every candelabra you can find. The room, the castle, seems so perpetually… black- like it soaks up every ray of light it touches. Even when you’ve finished it doesn’t feel like enough. You make a note to ask Thomas for more in the morning.
You find a meal, carefully prepared and preserved, on a table near your dresser. Judging by the fact that it’s still warm, you conclude that it can’t be much past mid-evening. You originally intend to pick at the food as you unpack, but one bite has your mouth watering. It is the most delicious thing to ever touch your lips, complete with dessert waiting on the side. You clean your plate before moving onto your bags.
You lay your clothes out on the bed. A few dresses, riding pants, undergarments, an assortment of ribbons and bows. At one time these items had been the finest things you owned- now you owned a castle.
You find an armoire that looks like a master sculptor carved its edges and grab a dress, intending to hang it. Instead, your dress hits the floor when you part the doors to find the hangers already full. Your lips part. Luxury dresses of silk and satin line the rack, fading into some that appear more casual outfits of cotton and linen. You stretch a hand out, curious and utterly… amazed. To think your new husband had gone to all the effort… Your hand brushes purple silk and-
“Do you like them?”
You screech, jumping to face the voice at your back. It takes a moment for your eyes to find him, leaning casually against one post of your bed. Your breath is stolen for a second time. Snow white hair, piercingly blue eyes, pale soft skin… you know who he is even without looking at his dress, at the air of authority he claims. He’s your husband… and he is the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.
He laughs, then, and it’s a warmer sound than you’d thought it would be- rich and full. A sound that seeps into your bones and settles in your soul.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, but the twinkle in his eyes makes you think that perhaps that’s a lie.
Your heart pounds and your eyes flash to the door. It’s shut. You didn’t hear it open, nor did you hear it close behind him. You also didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear breaths, didn’t hear him.
He follows your gaze and laughs again, though it sounds a bit… strained?
“I have a habit of being unintentionally lightfooted. I apologize.”
Your heart is still pounding but you find it in yourself to have some decorum. You snap your jaw shut and bow your head slightly in respect. “You must be Lord Gojo. Forgive me for my insolence.”
There’s a beat, and then footsteps– ones you actually hear this time. You clench your jaw when he stops before you and then nearly gasp when he takes your hand and brings it to his lips.
“Satoru, please,” he winks and you think you might stop breathing. “I am your husband after all.”
You force yourself to nod, to swallow, to act normal. But how can you in the presence of a man that looks like… that? There’s something too unreal about him, too perfect. It’s almost… unsettling.
“Of course… Satoru.”
He straightens and shows you a close-lipped smile that digs a dimple into his left cheek. You have to look away to avoid stumbling over your own feet.
“So, do you like them?” Your brows furrow- “The dresses,” he clarifies.
“O-oh.” Your features relax into an easy smile. You turn back to your armoire, running a hand along another gown. You don’t think you’ve ever touched something so… finely made. “I like them very much. I don’t know how to thank you.”
There’s a little chuckle as you turn to face him again and you have to steel yourself before you meet his eyes. He’s mesmerizing, too mesmerizing. You think you could probably lose yourself in those eyes forever…
“No need to thank me. If they don’t fit, we’ll call for the seamstress in the morning.”
You nod softly, still lost to the situation. There’s a beat of silence in which your husband does nothing but… look at you. His eyes roam freely and the hair on your arms stands under his gaze. He traces the lines of your nose and jaw and lingers on your pulse. Can he see just how fast your heart is pounding?
“Did you… get dinner?” It’s a stupid question, you know, but you don’t think you can bear another second of that look he’s giving you. “I fell asleep and found a plate. I hope I didn’t prevent a proper meal…” You trail off. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pointed out your own shortcoming?
He gives you another smile and you swear he inches just a little closer. “You did no such thing. I’m… perfectly satisfied.”
You nod, glad that he doesn’t seem upset at the very least. Your lips press together, unsure of what to do or say. You’ve never had a husband before. Wasn’t he supposed to just sort of… put you on the bed and… do it?
Your eyes flit to said bed and your husband must see because he hurries to continue.
“Well, I’ll see you in the morning then, hm?” His eyes flit to your armoire and back again. “Wear the blue dress with the lace to breakfast, yeah? Been dying to see it on you.” He chuckles like he’s just told some sort of amusing joke.
Your brows furrow. That was… not the topic you’d been expecting. “You’re not…” You feel your cheeks heat and tighten your jaw. “Not staying the night?”
His lashes lower a fraction and those eyes pierce you again. You don’t think you could move even if you wanted to, even with him prowling closer, each step eating up the space between you. He doesn’t stop until you’re nose to nose and you can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. It’s cold somehow, chilling, and you shiver. He smirks.
“Not tonight.”
His head dips and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he’s bypassing your mouth altogether and- his lips connect to your pulse. His mouth is cool, just like his breath, and you shiver uncontrollably under his touch.
His touch is just a fleeting moment, just a wrinkle in time, and then he’s gone. His footsteps are quiet brushes on the hardwood and the creak of the door even seems tamed in his presence.
“Goodnight,” is all he says, and then he’s gone.
You climb into your bed an hour later wondering what in the world just happened.
~
You do wear the blue dress to breakfast and you can only gape in the mirror when you realize that it fits perfectly. It has you second-guessing yourself. Had you sent your measurements in advance and forgotten about it? No, you’d only sent a handful of pieces of information to the Lord prior to your marriage and you remembered all of them very clearly. Everything had gone through a messenger, everything had been clear and direct– you would have remembered sending your measurements– you didn’t. So had he just… guessed?
That seemed impossible with how everything fit you like a glove, but it was the only explanation you had. The only one that made sense.
When you join Satoru for breakfast it’s in a sitting room as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle, but perhaps organized to be a bit more… liveable. He has no plate in front of him, only a tin cup that hides the contents of whatever he’s drinking. You assume coffee or juice. Perhaps he’s just not a breakfast person.
“It fits!” he says. His hands clasp together in front of him and he smiles again, dimples and all.
You nod and fight the heat that bubbles beneath your cheeks as you take your seat. “Yes, perfectly.”
A plate is set before you and a glance up reveals it’s Thomas serving your breakfast. You smile, hoping for some acknowledgement from him, for a small piece of comfort. Instead, you get his averted gaze and quick retreat. Your brows furrow, but before you can say anything, Satoru is back to speaking.
“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?”
You glance up, but Satoru’s eyes aren’t on you, they’re on your footman. His smile is bright, but it’s anything but friendly. You fight a shiver.
You glance at Thomas. He’s perfectly still, perfectly straight, but you think you see a muscle clench in his jaw. You clear your throat. “Y-Yes. Thomas was very helpful.” When Satoru keeps staring the boy down you add, “-and very respectful.”
That seems to satisfy. Satoru breaks his stare and some of the tension in the air instantly eases. He shoots you another dimpled smile, this one with a little more warmth. “Perfect.”
There’s a beat and then he’s standing, draining whatever he has in his cup and then straightening his jacket. “Well, I have some work to do. I’ll see you for dinner?” He’s grinning again, like it’s so normal for a man to abandon his bride on their wedding night and then again the morning after. All you can do is nod. He chuckles. “See you then, princess.” And then he’s gone.
~
If this is to be your life you don't know how you will survive it. You spend the day milling about. Through the gardens, through the castle, through the stables. Thomas is never far behind, but any attempt at conversation is nipped in the bud by hit shortness. It’s like he fears coming too close. He’s never closer than a couple paces except when he has to bring you something, only to retreat again as soon as possible. The other servants barely pay you any mind apart from giving you a respectful greeting and then immediately averting their eyes. There is no work to be done, no guests to be had, no parties to plan… and no Satoru. You don’t see your husband once on tour around the grounds. You ask Thomas where his office is only for him to vaguely point out a window in the east tower. You don’t see so much as a ripple in the curtains.
Dinner comes around at the pace of a snail. When it’s finally time to get dressed a lady’s maid whose name you don’t even catch arrives to help you lace your dress. As soon as your corset is deemed tight enough she’s back out the door with a curtsy. Thomas leads you to the dining room and your eyes roam the whole way. Even after having spent the whole day exploring, there are halls and corridors that you’ve yet to step foot in.
The dining room is just as gorgeous as the rest of the place– filled with singular items that could feed entire families for years. Somehow, you think you’ve already grown accustomed to such things, since the only thing you truly care to look at is your husband. Satoru’s already seated, but he stands when you enter, looping around the table to pull a chair out for you.
You give him your most genuine smile, accepting a kiss to your knuckles in greeting before you settle. “How was your day?” you ask as he takes his seat again.
He chuckles. “Perfectly fine. And how was yours, princess?” Your nose crinkles. That’s the second time he’s called you that. Something about it feels wrong. You’re still getting used to being a lady. Princess feels even worse.
“It was… good.”
You watch a perfect white brow arch in the candlelight. “Oh? Just good?” You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to the corner– to Thomas.
You hurry to elaborate. “Well, I just– I can’t help but feel as if there’s not much… use for me.” Servants flood in, some carrying wine, others carrying trays that hold more food than the both of you could ever possibly consume.
That brow arches impossibly higher. “Use?” His lips crack into that smile again, but it’s tight this time. Too tight. “You have no use. You only enjoy yourself. Surely Thomas has told you that.”
A plate of steaming food plops in front of you. Even its heavenly smell can’t quell the sudden dread in your gut. “Of course! Of course he did.” Your stomach twists and you decide that perhaps now is not the time to press the subject. “I’ll just… I’ll try riding tomorrow.” You hate riding, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind.
Satoru’s smile thaws into something less menacing. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.”
You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.”
You grab your fork, eager for a new subject. From what you can tell, dinner is roast chicken and vegetables, though it’s the luxury version as everything seems to be. The spices are intoxicating and the green beans are even arranged in a pretty little pattern that makes them look too good to eat. You do anyway. The first bite nearly makes you moan, but you chew slowly, delicately, trying not to let your upbringing show.
It’s not until several bites later that you realize you’re the only one eating. A quick glance reveals your husband has no platter, no chicken or green beans. He’s only… watching you. You clear your throat, dabbing at your lips with a napkin.
“You’re not… eating?”
That permanent smile grows a little wider and you can’t help but feel as if there’s something… menacing about it. “Ate before I came.”
Your brows furrow. “Oh. Were you on the road?”
You think you see something wild flash in his eyes. “No.”
The rest of dinner passes slowly, almost painfully. Satoru doesn’t eat a bite, doesn’t even look enticed. You wonder how that’s possible when it smells like a spice bomb went off in the dining room.
By the time you’ve cleared your plate you’ve discussed everything from the number of horses in the stables to kinds of crops grown on the estate. It’s comforting to know a little more about your new home, but it’s not enough.
“Is there a library?” you ask. You’re on dessert now. It’s the best chocolate cake you’ve ever had and it takes everything in you to hold back a moan each time it touches your tongue.
“Of course.” Your husband’s eyes flicker to Thomas again and you’re honestly starting to fear for the poor footman’s life. Everytime you ask a question it’s like Satoru is angry it hasn’t already been answered. “It’s yours to use as you please.”
You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.”
He softens a bit at that. “Is there anything specific you wanted to read about?”
You shrug. “The estate, I suppose. I should know my home’s history, no?”
His eyes get that wild look again, that sparkle that you know speaks to nothing good. “Oh, absolutely. I have some personal favorites to recommend. I’ll leave them aside for you?”
You swallow and give him a shallow nod. “That would be perfect. Thank you.”
He chuckles. “My pleasure.”
When dessert is finally over, you stand slowly. Satoru’s not far behind you, saying he’ll walk you to your room. Your heart leaps at his words. Will he stay with you tonight?
He offers you his arm in the hall and your mouth runs dry when you feel the corded muscle beneath his jacket. By the time you reach your room, you’re thinking of tugging him in behind you. His denial to stay with you last night was not only confusing, but… off putting. Nearly offensive. Did he not like how you looked? Did he think something was wrong with you?
You muster all the courage you possess and force your lips apart. “Will you stay with me tonight?”
His eyes spark again and you hold your breath. He presses closer. This is it, you think. His lips hover over yours, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. And then he dips his head, his mouth pressing to your pulse.
“Not tonight,” he whispers– and then he’s gone.
~
You wake suddenly. It’s the middle of the night, you gather. The light streaming through the window is weak enough to only be that of the moon.
Your heart is pounding and your skin is slick with sweat despite the chill in your bones. A nightmare, you think. It must have been a nightmare.
As you settle back into your sheets you swear you see a ripple in the darkness. You close your eyes. If your nightmare is real, you’d rather not see it coming.
~
The library is huge. It’s sprawling and smells of paper and leather and everytime Thomas lights a candle you flinch at the idea that one misplaced spark could end thousands of years of knowledge.
The books Satoru left you are… perfect. Just what you were looking for. They’re all comprehensive volumes of the history of the estate, many of which reference each other. You’re stunned to see that several are written by very well-known authors of both the past and the present. You knew the Gojo family’s influence reached far, but not that far. You peruse the titles. The Gojos: A History, A History of the Gojo Crest, History of the Gojo Castle, Revisiting the Gojo Family: A Comprehensive History. Altogether you have well over a few thousand pages of information– but there’s one book that doesn’t fit with the rest. It’s relatively unassuming. A black cover with some sort of gold rune etched onto its front. When you flip to the title page it reads “Creatures of Myth and Where To Find Them”. Your brows furrow. You slide it to the side– must have gotten mixed in with the others, you think.
~
You ask Thomas to bring the books to your room. He does. Very respectfully. He sets them on your bedside table and then retreats like a kicked puppy with only a polite goodbye. You sigh. His behavior has only gotten stranger in the past few days. You think the servants’ coldness must have something to do with Satoru, but you can’t figure out why. Had he ordered them to stay away? Why would he?
You decide it’s a question for another day and dive into your books. You spend hours, days, reading every chapter, page, and word. The pure amount of information is dizzying. Apparently this specific estate had been in the hands of the Gojo family since the eighth century (with several razings and consequential rebuilds). You also learn that Satoru was not only the most wealthy lord on the continent, but the most wealthy man. Even wealthier than the king apparently, though that fact was kept fairly under wraps to protect the crown’s ego. The estimates of your husband’s net worth made your head spin.
Satoru joins you for breakfast and dinner every day. You never see him eat a morsel. It’s… unsettling to say the least. It’s always just that tin cup, filled with something you could never quite see. You develop a pattern of waking in the night, too, with the overwhelming sense that something is watching you. Sometimes you could swear you feel the bed shift as you jerk awake. Each time you simply close your eyes and try your best to slow your heart, convinced your mind is playing tricks on you.
Your days feel a little more productive with a book in your hands, but you’ve read them all three times over by the time a fortnight has passed. You find yourself packing them up to return to Thomas when a certain black cover catches your attention. You grab it from the pile and settle back into your seat. You’ve nothing better to do, right?
You flip back the cover, revealing a familiar title. “Creatures of Myth and Where to Find Them”. You don’t recognize the author’s name. A quick scroll through the table of contents reveals nothing particularly interesting, but you pick a random chapter on ghouls and decide to start there.
It’s fascinating. Nothing about the style is boring and the words fly by. Your silly little myth book is a page turner. By the time you notice the light has started dying you’ve read about ghosts, fairies, werewolves, and goblins– all of which have been a delightful little read. A glance at the clock reveals you have a half hour before dinner. One more chapter, you think. Your eyes skim the title. “Vampires [Vampyr]”.
You skim the first paragraphs until your eyes settle on a line that catches your eye.
“Contrary to popular belief, vampires are not always crazed blood-hungry monsters. Many live among humans quite comfortably and are able to avoid detection with a little well-placed effort.”
You purse your lips. What a… terrifying thought. You skim a little further.
“A vampire’s key characteristic is, of course, their desire and need to drink human blood as sustenance. However, a vampire can be spotted sooner if one is able to recognize their subtler traits. Vampires often have skin lacking any sort of flush. The lack of blood in their veins results in a sickly pallor, even after the most rigorous exercise. Their skin is also noticeably cold to the touch. At best, a vampire’s body will reach room temperature. Vampires can also be noted for their preternatural beauty. They will stand out as the most attractive person in any crowd. Finally, a vampire will have fangs. If one wishes to identify a vampire, one only needs a good look at their teeth”.
A chill settles over your skin. You flip ahead a few pages.
“Vampires are unable to consume typical human food. Should they attempt to, their bodies will immediately reject any and all foreign substances.”
Your stomach drops. You don’t want to think about why. You skip the rest of the paragraph.
“Vampires possess several supernatural abilities that set them apart as a human’s predator rather than their equal. Vampires are known to move unnaturally fast and are notably light footed. If a vampire does not wish to be heard, they will not be. A vampire’s strength is inhuman, well over ten times that of the average man. They also have a penchant for darkness, an ability to hide away in the shadows that cannot be explained. Oftentimes they will seem to appear from thin air.”
You skip ahead again.
“Vampires have been known to take mates. Mates usually come in the form of another vampire, but in some cases a human has been chosen. Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly. Oftentimes, vampires make these decisions with haste, with little regard for whether or not the threat was real. A vampire will do everything in their power to please their mate, but have been known to forcibly restrain their mates in situations of unrequited feelings. Above all else, vampires wish to possess their mates. Two bonded vampires will sometimes spiral into gloriously destructive fits in their endless desire to protect and possess one another. A vampire bonded to a human will show an increasingly protective nature, often isolating their mate from others.”
Your heart pounds. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. You flip the pages, desperate– desperate for a piece of information that will save you from the thoughts spilling in your mind, from the thoughts you will do anything not to believe. You reach the “Where to Find Them” subsection and nearly gasp with relief. Surely, vampires do not pose as wealthy lords of Europe?
“Vampires can be found everywhere. They do not exist in only one country or continent, but all over the world. Odds are that you have faced at least one vampire in your life, unknowingly or not. Some vampires choose to live solitary lives, surviving in the wilderness where human society will not attempt to tame their wild nature. Others choose to live among humans, some even existing in positions of very high authority.”
No, no, no. This can’t be happening to you. It can’t be real. You’re dreaming, you’re having one of those nightmares again. You’re going to wake up any second.
“One tale recounts a razing of the Gojo estate in the 12th century.”
You’re panting, hyperventilating. This isn’t happening.
“Soldiers of the enemy force recounted a singular man, the son and heir of the then Lord Gojo, taking out a minimum of 800 men. He was described as having his family’s characteristic white hair as well as blue eyes. Eyewitness accounts depict the Gojo heir as covered in blood and killing savagely and with inhuman strength.”
No, no, no.
“(See next page for only existing portrait)”
Your fingers tremble but you can’t stop them. There’s no way. It’s not possible.
You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
You nearly scream. Your door rattles angrily, but you’re not sure you can answer it, not with the knowledge flooding your mind. The knocking continues. You run your hand over your face and smooth down your hair. You feel frazzled, dirty, despite not having moved from your chair all day. Another knock prompts you to set your book aside and stand. You do your best to compose yourself, to put on a straight face. You fail instantly when you pull back the door not to reveal your faithful attendant, not Thomas, but Satoru.
You bite back a shriek and instead force a smile. You’re suddenly very aware of the blood pounding in you veins and of the fact that he most likely knows.
“Hello,” he says, but his voice is lower than usually, more intense.
You force a breath into your lungs. “Hello,” you answer, but it sounds more like a squeak than a greeting.
Something flashes in his eyes, something familiar, something that is no longer interesting but rather terrifying. “Are you alright? You seem a little… flushed.” The concern on his face feels anything but genuine.
“I’m fine,” you answer, but even you can tell that reply too quickly, too eagerly. You rush to cover it up. “Is it time for dinner? Where’s Thomas?”
His lip twitches and you see a muscle in his jaw flex. “Thomas has… left us.”
No. This wasn’t happening to you. There was no way this was happening to you.
“He… what?” There’s an unmistakable wobble in your voice that only causes Satoru’s face to fall further.
“It’s no matter. He’s gone. Now it’s just you and me, hm?” He chuckles and the sound rattles your bones. “In fact, I was thinking I’d cut down on the number of servants we have entirely…”
You mind races with the memory of knowledge you wish you didn’t have. “Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly.”
You nearly stumble, but lean against the doorframe just in time. Your husband had disposed of a man, all because he brought you meals and books?
“What have you been up to today, princess?” The question breaks your trance just in time for you to see your husband’s eyes flicker behind you.
You wet your lips. “Just some reading.” You plead that he doesn’t ask anything further. He does.
“About the estate?” he asks.
You nod and try to swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes.”
His smile returns and this time it’s not forced. “You got my books, then?”
You try smiling back, but you’re fairly sure it looks more like a grimace. “Yes.”
“Anything interesting?” he presses.
This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Does he know? Does he know that you know? “Yes, of course. Lots.”
He pauses and you see the debate and then the decision in his eyes. You think it’s the first time you’ve felt true terror when he meets your gaze again. “I think we should skip dinner tonight. It seems we have so much to discuss.”
You don’t even have the wherewithal to scream when he steps into you, forcing you back until he’s shutting your door behind him. He doesn’t stop there, though. He keeps pressing, keeps pushing until your knees hit the bed and you’re falling to the mattress. He crawls right after you.
“Who knew my little wife was such a reader? All those books in such a short time… You must be simply spilling with information.”
You retreat across the mattress, squeaking when your back hits the headboard and his arms cage your waist. You’re trapped.
His hands find your hips and you’re all too aware of how cool his touch is. Even more so when he pulls you right into his lap.
“Satoru-” your voice is pitiful, breathless, and you’re ashamed to say it’s not just from the fear in your gut. He’s never been this close before, never touched you, held you like this. “Thomas-”
“Don’t speak his name.” His face pulls into the first scowl you’ve ever seen and the sight is enough to root you to the spot. Never have you seen anything more frightening. A creature so beautiful, so perfectly angelic, filled with an insurmountable rage. It’s wrong. “He’s gone. He’ll never bother you again.” He’s closer now, his breath skating over your skin. It’s cool and now you know the reason why.
You shake and tremble and you know– Thomas is dead. Your husband killed him– killed him for getting too close when all he did was stay at a distance. Satoru killed him. Killed him.
He buries himself in your neck, his voice a near whine. “Thought I could put up with it, just so you’d have someone to take care of you…” He groans. “I was so wrong, princess. Couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the way you smelled more like him than me…”
You feel him melt against you then, relief washing over his body in a wave. “But he’s gone. And now it’s just you and me, hm? Just you and me…” He hums, like remembering that fact is all he’s ever needed.
He’s kissing your pulse again, now, and your heart is racing faster than ever. Your fingers curl into his shoulders. You should push him away, away, away. He’s a killer, of thousands no doubt. You’ve never felt at home here, never felt like you belonged. This is why. You’re not even the same species. He’s something else, something your hands were never meant to touch.
Your mind screams at you to do go, to shove and kick at him and leave this place behind. Go, go, go your gut says… but you don’t. You can’t. It’s too… good. The feeling of his cool lips against your skin, of what you’re sure is his tongue prodding at your pulse… it’s intoxicating. He is intoxicating. How could anyone blame you for wanting more of someone, something, so divine?
“Have you figured it out yet, love?” Your breath hitches and he chuckles, licking a long stripe up your neck, before he settles back at your pulse. Always your pulse. “I can feel those little gears turning. Tell me, what have they discovered?”
He knows you know. But he’s going to make you say it. You swallow and feel his grip on you tighten. “You’re…” Your breaths come faster. You can’t. Not aloud. Aloud makes it too… real.
“Yessss?” he prods. He’s licking at you again, all the way across your throat to find your other pulse-point.
“You’re not…” Something sharps nicks at your skin and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper.
“Go on, princess.” You think he’s just smelling you now, just burying his face as close to you as possible and taking you in.
You close your eyes tightly, holding back tears. “Not human,” you breathe. A piece of you breaks with the admission.
He huffs a little laugh against your skin and pulls back to look you in the eye. “That’s good,” he purrs. “But I think you can be a little more specific, no?” His lips press to your chin, then the corner of your mouth, then down to your jaw… “Tell me.”
Your lips wobble, muscles clenching tighter with each passing moment. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to speak it into existence, but you also don’t dare to disobey him.
“You’re a…” You shake and tremble. He draws a line up your neck with the tip of his nose.
“Mhm?”
You open your eyes, thinking this might be the last time you see. “Vampire.”
He chuckles and you feel his teeth press to the skin of your neck. “That’s right, princess. So smart.”
He smiles and you suddenly realize you’ve never seen his teeth before. Everytime he smiles at you it’s close-lipped and dimpled. But this… this is the smile of a predator– all white and pointy and fitted with a set of menacingly long fangs. You sob at the sight.
“Shhhhh,” he coos. He has your chin in his hand, forcing you to truly look at him, to see him for what he is. “I won’t hurt you, love.” You want to believe him so badly it burns, but his laugh washes away any fire and turns it to ice. “Not unless you want me to.” He wiggles a brow like it’s just a little joke, like he’s not an actual fucking vampire that had his fangs over your neck just moments ago.
“Satoru,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re begging for. Release maybe? But, no, that’s not right. You don’t want him to let you go, not when you finally have him close after all this time. “Why did you pick me?”
The question slips out. You hadn’t even been thinking about it, hadn’t even noticed it scratching at the walls of your mind, but it made its way out nonetheless.
His brow creases, but not in confusion. Moreso in… thoughtfulness. “Do you think about that a lot, princess?”
You nod and you suddenly want him closer, want him to touch you everywhere, hold you like his life depends on it. You want him, no matter how horrible it might be.
He nods and hums, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “Well…” he says. His thumb swipes over your lips when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “At first I wanted you for this.” His head dips to your neck again and you feel the familiar brush of his lips against your throat. “You smell…” he chuckles. “Like heaven. Which is a place I’ll never get to on my own, so I had to bring my own little slice home, no?” He laughs again, a little louder this time, genuinely amused. “Went into town one day and caught your scent on the street. At first I thought I must be walking past the bakery, but, lo and behold, there was no baker in sight.” He’s still kissing at your pulse, worshiping it. “Went crazy, princess. Didn’t think I was going to be able to contain myself when I found you. Thought it might be quite the scene.” He huffs a laugh and you shiver, somehow both terrified and intoxicated. “But then I saw you–” he groans and something clenches deep at your center. “And I knew I needed more than just your blood. Needed you.” He’s rocking into you now, and your breath catches when you feel something firm against your backside. “Went to you in that little room you slept in every night. Watched you. Couldn’t stay away. Knew I had to have you.” You feel him smile against your skin. “After a week I couldn’t take it anymore. Sent you that letter, married you. Made you mine.” He groans again. “Then I met you and you were so pretty, princess. Already knew it, but hearin’ you talk to me, look at me.” Teeth graze your pulse. “Needed you more than ever. Almost took you right on the fucking floor in here while you were lookin’ at those dresses.” You whine when his hips roll into you again. “Oh, but I knew I couldn’t. You’re so fragile, love. Had to wait, had to make you feel safe, yeah? Spent all this time forcing myself to stay away, ‘fraid of what I might too if I was in your presence too long. Had to control myself. Had to make you realize you could trust me.” He panting, like he’s so pent up he can hardly sit still. “Do you trust me, princess?”
Your brows scrunch. Say no, say no, say no a part of you screams. Run, run, run. You can’t. “Yes,” you breathe.
You feel him smile again, feel the pleasure of submission. “Good girl.”
You’re on your back. It happens so fast your eyes don’t even have time to gasp. You don’t see Satoru, but you feel him. Everywhere. His hands are roaming your body softly, sliding under buttons and laces and popping them off. Your dress loosens with every passing moment until Satoru reappears above you, diving straight for your neck again. “So good, princess. Let’s get you out of this dress, yeah?”
You nod wordlessly, entranced. He finds your mouth as he rids you of your clothes. His tongue presses in and you flail against him, unsure of what to do, of how to handle the intrusion. The kiss is heavy, too heavy, but Satoru can’t seem to stop. He devours you as he gives up on laces and buttons and simply shreds your dress down the back. You tremble when the cold air hits your skin, when his cool fingers dust your collarbone.
“I always forget how many damn layers they make you ladies wear,” he chuckles. His hands run beneath your shift, up across your bare thigh. You gasp at the touch. No one has even been so close to you before. You feel the threads of your corset snapping away, feel your breaths growing deeper. You tremble when he pulls your sleeve down past your shoulder and runs his mouth along the newly exposed skin.
“Satoru,” you gasp, and your hand pulls at his flowing white shirt.
He chuckles, pulling back just enough to see your face. “You wanna see me too?” You nod, lips parted and eyes glassy, and he laughs again. He lips dust over the corner of your mouth. “Alright.”
His hands shift from you to himself, working at the laces on his chest. His movements are speedy, practiced, like he’s been lacing and unlacing shirts for hundreds of years. Your throat tightens when you realize that he has.
You gasp when he reveals himself, when his shirt slides away to reveal an expanse of pale skin and carved muscle. You’ve never seen a man like this and seeing one this close up for the first time is nearly blinding. He’s art, you think- nothing less.
“Touch me, princess,” he says. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He’s too beautiful, too perfect to be beneath your insignificant hands. “Need a little help?” he asks, and there’s a lilt in his voice that makes you sure he’s grinning.
His hands find yours and bring them to his chest, running your palms over his collarbones, his pecs, down, down, down across his abs that you can feel each and every one… You whimper, watching your own fingers grope his skin. He pulls you lower, lower, lower, and you gasp when your fingertips brush the waistband of his pants. But then he’s laughing again and he’s throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling you closer, kissing your neck like it pained him to be parted from your pulse for so long.
“Not so fast,” he says, like he wasn’t the one nearly stuffing your hands down his pants. His hands are on your corset again. You can feel it dangling onto you by a thread, literally. All he needs is a couple more pulls and you’ll be bare. By the look he gives you, you can tell he’s
thinking the same thing. “You touch me, now I touch you, yeah?” There’s a tug and a tear and then so much… cold. You’ve never realized how cold this castle is, not until you’re exposed to its elements fully. You’re naked.
Satoru sits back on his knees and just watches. His gaze is searing, burning, despite the iciness of his being. It’s too much. Your hands move to cover yourself, to maintain some modicum of your dignity-
“No.” Strong hands find your wrists and pry them apart. “Let me see you,” he says. His tongue darts out to lick his lips.
Your jaw clenches and your frame shakes, but you do as he asks, letting your hands fall limply at your sides. There’s silence for many more moments and it seems to go on so long that you can only squeeze your eyes shut under his gaze. Surely he will turn you away now, get up and leave, tell you this was a mistake, tell you that you’re–
“Beautiful,” he breathes. Your eyes snap open to find him already staring at you. “Beautiful,” he says again, and then he’s on you, lips at your pulse, hands on your skin. His touch is cool and you squeak at the chill that runs up your spine. You’re not sure it’s entirely from his temperature.
His mouth seeks yours and he devours you. You feel as if he’s sucking your soul out through your lips. “Tell me you’ve never done this before,” he begs. “Tell me I’m the first to touch you.”
You whine against his mouth, both aching for more and overwhelmed by what he’s already giving you. “Y-You’re the first,” you whisper.
His groan is deep, primal. It rattles through your chest and you whimper when his hands dig into your waist hard enough to bruise. “Yes,” he breathes, and you shiver again. “Lie back, princess.” Your eyes widen, with anticipation or fear you’re not sure. Probably both. He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”
You pray he means that. “Just relax, love. Here, hold my hand.” His fingers find yours, twining them together. When you swallow, his eyes follow the bob of your throat. He leans back again and your body twitches when his free hand skims the skin of your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he finds your knees and you gasp when he parts your legs, revealing you so completely to his gaze. The way he stares, like he’s committing you to memory, it’s nearly enough to make you snap your thighs shut, but a squeeze from his hand reminds you to relax, to trust.
His palm skates up your thigh and settles near your hip, his fingertips inching closer to where you can feel an embarrassing throb.
“Tell me, love. Have you ever touched yourself here?” His fingers dust low on your tummy- just low enough for you to catch his meaning, but not low enough to give you any relief. Your face heats and your teeth dig into the flesh of your cheek. You have, you have touched yourself there, but it’s the last thing you want to admit to your new husband. It’s shameful, it’s dirty, it’s- “Don’t think I’ll judge you, princess. Just wanna know.”
You gulp down a breath. You should come clean. “Y-yes,” you stutter, and the sound of your voice so weak and helpless only makes you flush further.
He chuckles and squeezes your hand again. “On the outside or the inside?”
Your eyes widen. I-inside? You’d never considered that… “J-just the outside,” you answer.
Your eyes grow even wider when his head rolls back and he moans straight up to the ceiling like your answer is heaven-sent. When he looks back to you his fangs are on full display. “Well, I think you and I are in for a little treat today, hm?”
Your brow furrows and your lips part to ask him what he means– his fingers travel those last few inches down your tummy and find your clit. You squeak and jolt so violently that he presses a hand to your hip, holding you to the mattress. “Somebody’s sensitive,” he chuckles. He holds you still for a moment and then lets your hips go free. “Try to stay still. I promise it’ll feel good.”
You nod hopelessly, but this time you’re prepared for when he touches you again. Your muscles clench at the first touch, at the foreign sensation of a touch down there that wasn’t your own. But then it’s more. It’s languid, slow circles around a spot that you’ve never been able to pinpoint so well on your own. It’s heat building in your tummy that seeps through every vein and into every pore. It’s relaxation that you’ve never known, that has you melting into the mattress despite the chill of the touch.
There’s a little huff of a laugh and then his voice. “Good girl. Feels nice, yeah?” You nod hesitantly and squeeze desperately at his hand, searching for an anchor. His head cocks to the side and you watch the smile slide across his lips. “It’s about to feel even nicer.”
By the time you realize what he’s doing it’s far too late to stop him. His mouth closes around your cunt and you yelp, trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation- but he’s got his freehand on your hip again and his grip is bruising, punishing, as he holds you in place. He licks a stripe through your folds and you find yourself jolting again, uselessly so against the pressure of his palm on your hip. “Stop that, princess.” Your heart drops at the admonishment until you feel his guiding touch. “Rock into me like this.” His hand rocks your hips into his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit is so delicious that you whimper. “Good girl,” he says and your heart rises right back up. “Keep doing that, now.” You don’t dare defy him. You rock like he showed you, a little jerkily at first, and then you find a rhythm that has you seeing stars. “That’s it, love,” he says, and the sound is muffled against your cunt. “Here, put your hand in my hair.” He finds your wrist and guides you forward until your fingers are tangling in those snowy locks. They’re even softer than you’d imagined. “Good girl,” he whispers and suddenly he’s taking one last long lick and lifting his head to meet your eyes. “‘M gonna put my fingers in you now, princess.” Your chin wobbles. “It might hurt a little bit, but stay still, okay?” You can’t do anything but nod.
His eyes return to your cunt and you can feel him prodding at your entrance, circling the hole as you clench in anticipation. “Relaaaaaax, love,” he says and you nod. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth–
You feel the exact moment he pushes into you and a whine of pain rips from your throat. Your walls clamp down like a vice, angry at the intrusion– but it’s already too late. There’s a beat of silence, of anticipation, and then he’s– laughing?
Your brows furrow when you hear it, your head lifting to a sight that locks your limbs in shock. Satoru’s hand is lifted in front of his face, his pointer finger coated in– blood, you realize. Your blood. And he’s a fucking vampire.
“Oh princess,” he coos, and the manic look in his eyes makes you tremble. “You really are perfect.”
Things seem to slow as you watch him take his blood covered finger into his mouth. You’re sure you’ve never seen an expression more blissful, more lost to sensation. His eyes roll back and his body shivers, like he’s ascending to some higher plane. Maybe he is.
When he pulls his finger from his mouth it’s completely licked clean. You hold your breath. He’s going to go for your neck now, right? He’s had a taste and now he’ll want more of it, all of it?
“Fuck,” is all he says. His mouth is back on your cunt so fast you don’t even see him move.
Your mouth falls wide. It hurts, the way he is so desperately licking at you. You feel his finger again, pressing in, in, in, only to pull back and suddenly be joined by another. The stretch tears at you. You thrash and jolt, but Satoru doesn’t bother telling you to stop this time. His arm wraps over your hips, holding you in place. He seems immune to how hard your legs squeeze at his head or your hands pull at his hair. He’s lost. You can feel him licking, lapping, and prodding at you like you’re a fucking gold mine. He’s lost to desperation, to the need for more, more, more. Every so often he lifts his chin and you see his mouth smudged with a mixture of your wetness and your blood. He laps at his lips like an animal, dragging his thumb across his chin and sliding it into his mouth to make sure he gets every last drop.
You’re not quite sure when the ravenous pain turns to a ravenous pleasure, when it turns from terrifying to downright delicious. You don’t notice your moans filling the air until Satoru joins you, groaning and whining into your cunt and telling you to keep going, to keep making those sounds. The hand you have buried in his hair doesn’t fight to push him away any longer, only to pull him into those now practiced rocks of your hips. His fingers thrust deep, curling into a spot that makes you feel so good and his mouth has found your clit again. He sucks your nerves lightly between his lips, tongue swirling in little circles. Your thighs start to shake.
“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.”
“S-Satoru–” you breathe. Warmth and tightness pool in your tummy, and you recognize it as your approaching orgasm, though you know this one will be far different than any you’ve ever managed to give yourself. Your body shakes and your breaths tremble and then– you fall over the edge, rocking your hips senselessly, losing all form of rhythm. Warmth tingles in your spine and seeps all the way down to your toes. You think you cry out, cry for your husband, cry for more, cry for less, but if you do you don’t hear it. All you hear is the pounding of your pulse, of pleasure throbbing in your veins until the world slowly seeps back in through the corners of your vision.
Satoru is grinning. A speck of your blood clings to his chin and his fangs peek out from behind his lips. The sight makes your blood run a little colder. If any part of you doubted what he was before… well, there was no doubt any longer.
There’s a shift between your legs, his hips slotting between them, and you’re suddenly snapped back to reality. From the look in his eyes, you’re not done.
Frantic hands find his pants and he undoes each button with a quickness that is almost inhuman. You wonder if he could go even faster, if he’s holding back so as not to scare you. If he is, it isn’t working very well. Fear surges in your veins right alongside anticipation.
“S-Satoru–”
“It’s alright, love.” His hand finds yours without his eyes ever looking up. His grip is just a little too firm, a little too cold. “Just stay still.”
You whimper, but you don’t think he’s paying attention to that, and soon enough, neither are you. His pants slide down just past his hips, just enough. You gasp.
You’ve never seen a man in the nude, never even dared to think about what it might look like, though it seemed you no longer had to guess. His hand wrapped around his shaft, giving one long and slow stroke that made his breath hiss through his fangs. The tip was flushed, angry, and leaking something that looked clear and sticky. You couldn’t help but notice it was a lot thicker than a finger, or even two. If his fingers had hurt…
He moves with that alarming quickness again, leaning down to hover over you, chests nearly pressed together. “Gonna take you now, princess. Gonna make you mine.” His eyes bore into yours, blue and shimmering with something wild. His hand presses into the mattress beside your head. “Stay still, now.”
It’s all the warning he gives you. You feel like you’re splitting– straight up the middle. You wail, hands flying out to claw at his back. It hurts. It hurts.
“Satoru, p-please! It’s–”
Lips catch yours– hungry, feral. The kiss is not gentle, not soothing. It shuts you up, it keeps you quiet, it keeps you still as you feel him sinking further, deeper into you. It’s too much, you try to say, but the poke of sharp teeth against your lips keeps you silent. Your hips jolt and wiggle trying desperately to escape the stretch but it’s no use. By the time he’s fully inside you, tears are streaking down your cheeks, fat and heavy. His lips break away and his eyes reappear. You shake when you see that none of the wildness has been tamed, that you’ve only just begun.
“Good girl,” he coos, and a cool finger traces a line across your jaw. “Took me so well.” You hold back a sob when his hips shift a little, testing, prodding. He must see the pinch of your eyes, the twist of your mouth, because he’s quick to comfort. “Just hold my hand, princess.” His hips rock in earnest this time and you whimper, squeezing down on his hand with all your might. You’re panting as he chuckles. “Breathe, love. Breathe. Soon you’ll be begging for more,” he laughs. It’s not long before he’s rocking into you sincerely, setting a pace that stretches you to the brink of breaking. At first it’s all you can do to grasp onto him, to bite your lips through the whimpers and hold his hand. And then it’s… more. It’s heat and warmth despite the coolness of his body on yours. It’s sensation and… pleasure. He laughs when the first moan slides past your lips, burying his face in your neck once again. You hear him at your ear, panting his hot breath across your skin.
“Feel good, princess?” You nod, letting your hips rock against his as he showed you before. It feels good– it feels right. He chuckles, but there’s nothing light about the sound. “Wanna feel even better?” Something sharp pokes at the skin of your neck, hard enough to make you squeak, to make you freeze at what you know he wants.
He pulls himself back, pressing his forehead to yours, searching your eyes with his. Something like a cruel smile dances on his mouth. “Just a taste, love. I promise it won’ hurt.” His tongue darts out and licks across your lips, his thrusts rocking just a bit faster. “You’ll feel s’ good an’ I’ll only take a little.” He laughs again and it sends a chill through your bones. “Promise.” He sounds breathless, like he’s struggling to restrain himself. The increase of his pace makes you whine and you squeeze his hand again. He buries himself back in your neck, panting. “Come on, love. Say yes. Say yes f’ me.” Your eyes glaze over. Your body justles with each new thrust. He’s desperate now, seeking a release that you don’t think is any kind you’re familiar with. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants in your ear. You’re not sure when his words twist in your mind, when they settle on your tongue and push past your lips, but you know it feels so right when they do.
“Yes,” you whisper.
His fangs clamp around your pulse. You scream when the sting rips through you, violent and savage– but it only lasts a moment. Pain fades to… ecstasy. You feel his throat bobbing with each swallow, feel your blood seeping from your skin and onto his tongue. You’d thought it would feel slicing, draining, like the life was being sucked from you. It doesn’t. It feels wonderful. Heat spreads under your skin, emanating from your neck and down to your toes. It feels like breathing for the first time, like sugar being pumped into your veins. It feels like heaven. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close. You don’t want it to stop, not ever. You could die like this, have him suck every last drop of blood from your veins and thank him for it with your dying breath.
He’s moaning now, hands curling into your hips while he fucks into you relentlessly. The pace is grueling and brutal. You know it should hurt but only feels perfect. Anything less would not be enough. Anything else would leave you wanting. You feel it building, feel that familiar twinge at your core. The ecstasy flooding through your veins has it coming faster, has you teetering on the edge in moments.
“Satoru…” You hadn’t noticed how dizzy you felt until you tried to speak. You wonder why… “‘M gonna…”
He fucks you harder, something menacing and deep rumbling in his chest. The sound makes you shiver, makes you whine, makes you come.
Your body shakes and a cry rips from your throat, cunt clenching like a vice around him. Your eyes roll back, hands scraping trails down his back. Your thighs quake with the intensity, with the overwhelming senses of pleasure that erupt throughout your body. Every nerve is firing, every hair rising. It’s an unstoppable current, one that sweeps you away, helpless to its pull.
His thrusts grow sloppy and untimed. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place while he makes you his. His teeth break from your neck and when you look up through blurry eyes you see his head thrown back, your blood streaming down his chin in thick little globs. You feel it when he cums, feel the thick ropes of it seeping into your womb, feel the way he keeps fucking you, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. He’s moaning, chanting your name like a prayer at the heavens.
When the moment ends he slumps over you, eyes half lidded and tired. There’s a familiar grin on his lips, one that inspires both comfort and uneasiness in your gut. You can’t help but stare at him, at the blood that stains his chin and cheeks, that reddens his lips so beautifully. You want to reach out and touch him, touch his blood-soaked skin and see what it feels like, what it tastes like. What you taste like.
His eyes slide to the side, finding your pulse again. You groan. Yes, you think. Please, yes. More. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of that. Of his teeth in your flesh, of the euphoria flooding your veins. More, more, more, your mind chants.
He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “No, princess.” He raises a finger to trace the curve of your neck. “I took more than I should have…” His expression doesn’t tense with worry. His cheeks pull into a smile, those little dimples shining through. “But what can I say? You just taste so good.” Like he needs to emphasize his point, his tongue darts out to trace his lips, lapping up some of the remaining blood on his chin. “You taste like mine.”
You whine. More, more, more. It’s all you can think about. You lift an arm weakly. You want to pull him to your neck, to make him drink, to make him fill you with the heaven you had just moments ago.
He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply. His lips split into another grin and you see his eyes spark again with the wildness you crave.
“Not yet, princess.” he coos. “But soon.” His smile grows even wider, until those fangs are on full display, until you’re trembling again. “Forever,” he whispers.
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What songs the Haikyuu!! Boys would cry to in the shower at 2am (Karasuno) fluff/crack
CW: Swearing, No angst
A/N: I was trying to find a fitting way to enter into the Haikyuu fanfic community and this seemed most appropriate. This lowkey got deep for daichi. I apologize if any part of this post sounds like one of Noah Centineo’s wannabe inspirational pinterest quote-eque tweets. It also kinda got less in-depth the longer it went on, I've been up for 28 hours going on three hours of sleep please cut me some slack.
Daichi: Daichi is the dad of the team, that being said unlike most dads (in my experience) I don’t think he necessarily tries to hide when he is feeling negative emotions from the team (his kids). He is a wonderful captain and encourages his teammates to express emotion in a healthy way rather either bottle it all up, or overindulge in the negative feelings in the name of “processing”. That being said, I feel as though because he focuses so much on his team and how to help them handle their emotions, he doesn’t really know how to handle his own. I see him as someone who saw a TikTok saying that you can’t cry to medieval tavern music, and that’s now his go to.
Sugawara: Sugawara Koshi, the mom of the Karasuno team. I feel that at this point it’s practically canon that Suga is secretly a certified hoe bad bitch, and so being a bad bitch he 100% watched the Hannah Montana movie and therefore would undoubtedly cry to the song “Climb”. I also see him crying to literally any song on Ariana Grande’s most recent album Positions, specifically “34+35”.
Asahi: Asahi would definitely only cry to actual sad songs, though Asahi could cry to anything cause he’s just a big softy like that, I also feel like he lowkey likes to be sad in a way. Really just likes to sit in the feels and process it ya know? So I would put him down as someone to cry to “You Said You’d Grow Old With Me” by Michael Schulte. I consider Asahi as a person who both really wants to be in a romantic relationship, and genuinely feels happier when he is in one. This leads me to believe that love songs would be his go to for late night cries.
Nishinoya: Noya would, without a doubt in my mind, cry to “That Bitch” by Bea Miller. Noya does a lot to make sure he always looks, acts and feels like the perfect libero. And so even when crying I have the impression that Noya would want to make sure that he knows he is still in fact that bitch.
Tanaka: Tanaka would cry to “Toxic” by Britney Spears (#freebritney). It’s just something about it I don’t know what, call it instinct but I definitely see Tanaka crying to that song. Or him and Noya and Hinata all crying to “Vogue” by Madonna and trying to do the dance to cheer themselves up.
Kageyama: Kags would cry to “She’s So Gone” from Lemonade Mouth. I think he secretly has a real love for every early 2000s-2010s Disney Channel Original Movie, and would keep a playlist just for when he’s feeling down so he can jam out. Would 100% know the whole dance to “We’re All In This Together”.
Hinata: Hinata would cry to “Mad at Disney” by Salem Ilese. This poor baby probably got his heart broken due to him having unrealistically high expectations and would just be pissed off and frustrated at the world.
Tsukishima: Tsukki would cry to “Daddy Issues” by The Neighborhood. He’s got that internalized homophobia (as much as I wish I had a shot with him there is no way he is straight) and distant older brother issue type shit. Also “When You Love Someone” by James TW, once again it’s the distant older brother issues.
Yamaguchi: Yams would cry to “Someone You Loved” by Lewis Capaldi. Another sweetie who would just really want to sink into the feels and cry about a relationship he never had. I hc yams as such a sweetheart but like at the same time his best friend is Tsukki so you know if anyone walked in he would wrap that shit right up and put on “thank u, next”.
Bug Ass
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20!!! she/her/hers✨I write for Haikyuu when my mental health allows it✨
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