graythecoffeebean

[graythecoffeebean]

satoru absolutely baby talks you when you’re sick.

not in a mocking way. no. this is full-blown softie satoru, disgusting levels of wife guy activated, baby voice on max, coddling you like you’re the most precious, fragile little thing in the universe—and not because he thinks you’re weak, but because it’s the one time you let him get away with it without putting up your usual walls.

because you’re sick. hot forehead, flushed cheeks, big watery eyes that blink up at him like you’re seeing god—or worse, like you might actually cry if he leaves the room. like you need him. and honestly? that does something to him. wrecks him, even.

and you do need him. you’re fevered, shivering, curled up in bed in one of his oversized shirts, your hair a mess, nose stuffy, brain thoroughly fried. your fingers twitch like you want to reach for him but can’t be bothered to try, lips parted in a weak sigh as you breathe through your mouth. your usual bratty, mouthy, too-proud-for-help self? gone. obliterated. absolutely bulldozed by the flu. all that’s left is a miserable little lump of a wife who clings to his sleeve like a koala and mumbles, “’toru… i feel like a soggy towel…”

his whole body stills. there’s a twitch in his brow, like his heart has physically clenched. his lips part, just a little, before curling up in the softest grin. eyes soften behind pale lashes—just a hint of red at the corners from how tired he is too—but none of that matters. not when you’re looking up at him like that. the corner of his mouth tugs upward, not in amusement—but in something far gentler. reverent, even. and then god. he melts. instantly. his heart shatters into a million pieces and reforms just to explode again.

“awww, my poor widdle baby,” he coos, already pressing a kiss to your damp forehead. his breath is warm, his nose brushing yours. “does my soggy towel need her soup? wanna be spoon-fed by the hottest nurse in the world?”

you don’t even roll your eyes. you nod. actually nod. sluggish, dazed. and then flop into his arms like dead weight, forehead nudging his neck, skin hot against his collarbone. you let him hold you like you’re made of glass.

he almost cries. really. because you’re letting yourself be coddled. cuddled. taken care of. no sass. no biting remarks. just tiny, pitiful sniffles and pouty faces and your arms wrapping around his waist like he’s your anchor. like you don’t want him to go anywhere. like you can’t function without him.

and satoru eats that up like it’s a feast.

“you want juice, angel? how about some water? apple slices? forehead kisses every ten minutes? medicine with a kiss as a chaser?”

“mmm… apple. but peeled…” you whisper, voice small and hoarse, eyes half-lidded and glossy.

“of course, peeled! only the finest fruits for my fevered little dumpling,” he gasps, hand dramatically on his chest like he’s been knighted for a sacred quest. there’s a shine in his eyes—something starry, something stupidly in love.

he tucks you in like a burrito, tugs the blankets up to your chin, and then scoops you onto his lap because apparently that’s where you sleep best. his fingers comb through your hair, slow and tender, while your cheek rests limp against his shirt. he puts on your comfort show, even though you barely keep your eyes open long enough to register the sound.

he hums something soft—tuneless and low—while cradling you like a fevered woodland creature. his tone dips lower when he leans in again.

“do you still love me even if i’m gross and sweaty and my nose is red?” you mumble, lips wobbling, brows pinched like the thought genuinely upsets you.

his hand smooths along your cheek. “i love you way more,” he says instantly. “you’re my sweaty, sniffly soulmate. cutest germ gremlin i’ve ever seen.”

“you’re lying…”

“baby, i would kiss your snotty nose right now if you asked.”

there’s something almost reverent in the way he says it—like it’s a vow. and he means it. he’d do it without hesitation, wouldn’t even flinch. because if it’s you, there’s no such thing as gross. not when he’s this stupidly in love. not when every part of you, even at your messiest, makes him want to wrap you up in his arms and never let go.

you groan into his shirt, muffled and pitiful, and he grins like you just serenaded him.

“who’s the most handsome man in the world?” he asks out of nowhere, fingers curling behind your ear, brushing tenderly as if coaxing the answer out. his voice dips low, honey-sweet and just a little smug. not because he expects the answer—no, he needs it. his entire self-worth depends on your silly little validation right now.

“you are,” you mumble, cheeks squished slightly against his chest, nuzzling closer without shame.

his fingers twitch where they cradle your skull. his whole face lights up like a sunrise. pale lashes flutter, and his pupils dilate like he’s just been told he won a lifetime supply of you.

“louder.”

“toruuuuu… it’s you…”

the pleased little noise he makes is downright sinful. his lashes flutter shut as he closes his eyes in smug bliss, and he tilts his head back like he’s soaking in the warmth of your praise. if he had a tail, it would be wagging.

“that’s right,” he beams, practically preening, fingers now stroking under your chin. “say it again. for my health.”

“you’re the handsomest… in the whole world… even when your hair’s stupid…”

he gasps, clutching his chest with a hand like you just shot cupid’s arrow straight through it. “rude and true. i’ll take it.”

his heart is doing somersaults. he’s convinced there’s never been a more fulfilling moment in his life. not the promotions, not the accolades, not even the recognition. just this—this feverish little version of you, croaky and honest and too tired to pretend you’re not as in love with him as he is with you.

he whispers the dumbest, softest shit while holding you against his chest like you’re something sacred. calls you every pet name in the book and then invents new ones on the spot: baby, sweetheart, princess, dumpling, snugglebug, fever bean, coughy cake, angel face mcsweats-a-lot.

you blink up at him between fits of sleep, lips parted like you want to say something else—but all that comes out is a pathetic little whimper. his hand smooths over your spine again, touch featherlight.

“what was that, baby?” he whispers.

“love you…” you murmur, eyes falling shut.

his heart flips. flips, spirals, and lands in a fucking somersault.

he kisses your temple and you go quiet.

and when you finally pass out, nose smooshed into his collarbone, snoring faintly like the most adorable little gremlin, he exhales like it’s the best moment of his life. like the universe aligned just for this. like his purpose has been fulfilled. his hand never stops moving—stroking your spine, combing your hair, tracing shapes into your shoulder blade beneath the fabric of his shirt.

he lives for clingy, soft, unguarded sick-you. because even though he adores the bratty, sharp-tongued, little menace version of you that picks fights and flicks him on the forehead and makes him earn every kiss—this version? this sleepy, dependent little furnace wrapped in blankets and his love? she needs him.

and satoru loves being needed. loves being the one you reach for, even when you’re half-delirious. especially when you’re half-delirious.

he leans down again, voice barely audible now.

“rest up, baby,” he whispers, brushing your hair from your clammy forehead. “you’ll feel better soon. and then i’ll go back to being emotionally bullied by my beloved wife.”

[graythecoffeebean]

You know how, on birthdays, it’s kind of cute to feed your friend a spoonful of cake? Real sweet, right?

Yeah, well, it’s a lot less cute when Satoru expects you to do it every single time he brings home dessert. (Which is often) Doesn’t matter if it’s his birthday or not.

He’s already tugging you into his lap before you can even say no, arm wrapped around your waist as he wiggles the fork in your face, already loaded with cake he’s definitely taken a bite of first. And he’s grinning. That wicked little grin, baby blue eyes glittering with mischief as he coos, “C’mon, baby, feed me the cake.”

You know what he wants. He wants a repeat of what happened the other night. When you cupped his stupidly handsome jaw and called him your pretty little thing, all mean and teasing while he practically whimpered in your hands.

So you don’t give him cute. No, no. You wrap your hand gently around his throat instead, just enough to feel his pulse flutter against your palm. His breath catches.

“Open wide, pretty boy,” you purr.

And he melts. Back arching just a little, lips parting instantly, tongue out and waiting like the pathetic little dessert-hungry mutt he is. You feed him the cake and he moans around it, like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

You don’t even know if he likes the flavor. He just likes being fed like this. And of course you'll continue to encourage his bratty actions. Because damn it… he's so good when he begs.

(I swear though, he will deep throat the fork)

[graythecoffeebean]

Satoru never cared much for babies.

He thought they were sticky. Loud. Strange little creatures with too-big eyes and unpredictable emotions. “You can’t even do anything with them,” he used to say, half-laughing, always dismissive. He didn’t see the appeal. Not then.

But now, when those tiny, hiccuping cries echo through the house, it’s his hands that reach out first. His steps that are soft, practiced, sure, against the cool hardwood floors. He lifts them into his arms with a tenderness he didn’t know he had, whispering low and sweet as if the words alone might soothe them. “Shh… I got you, baby. You’re okay now. Daddy’s here."

The nursery is dim, painted in golden hues from the rising sun that spill in through gauzy curtains. And in the quiet of it all, Satoru rocks them slowly, heart twisting at the way such a tiny thing could cling so tightly to him.

Their little fingers curl instinctively around his, impossibly small and soft. The little fist moving to tug at his snow-white hair with an uncoordinated giggle, and Satoru laughs too - gentle and breathless and amazed. He leans in close and nuzzles their round belly, peppering noisy kisses between mock growls.

“The strongest needs a snack,” he murmurs against their skin, grinning as the baby squeals with delight.

And still, deep in his mind, something quiet aches.

I didn’t think I’d ever have this.

Didn’t think I’d survive long enough to want it.

Didn’t know I could be this soft, this full, this happy.

Later, you’ll find them sprawled together on the living room floor. Satoru still half bare chested and Hello Kitty pajama pants, hair a mess, baby asleep on his chest - both of them completely knocked out. His hand cradles their back protectively, even in sleep. His breath rises and falls in rhythm with theirs.

And as you stand there watching, heart full to the brim, Satoru stirs just enough to crack one sleepy, love-dazed eye open.

“Hey,” he whispers, voice hoarse with exhaustion and something tender, “look what we made.”

[graythecoffeebean]

୨୧﹕fem!reader, high sex with megumi

you weren’t supposed to get this high.

it started harmless—yuji had the edible hookup, of course he did, grinning like an idiot as he passed the little gummies around the apartment. choso didn't even flinch when he chewed his like it was a vitamin. megumi tried to act aloof about it—"i’m only doing it 'cause you're all gonna be annoying otherwise"—but he took two.

two.

now it’s been forty-five minutes, and megumi's next to you on the couch, quiet, flushed, his thigh pressed up against yours while yuji cackles at a dumb video and choso mutters something about molecular water tension with his eyes half-lidded.

and megumi leans toward you. close. way too close.

“i feel sick,” he murmurs, voice low like it’s a secret. his palm’s resting on your leg now, squeezing gently. “can we go back to your place?”

you glance at him, and his face is a little pink. his breathing’s shallow. his pupils are huge.

“…you’re not actually sick, are you.”

he shakes his head slowly, lips brushing your ear as he whispers:

“i’ve been hard since yuji passed me the second gummy.”

your mouth goes dry.

you’re grabbing your things before anyone can say anything else.

the second your door shuts, he’s on you.

no pretense, no patience. megumi slams you against the door and kisses you like he’s been dying of thirst, and you’re the only fucking drink in the world. his tongue’s messy, hungry, sloppy, and when it flicks against yours, you feel it in your gut, in your toes, in the wet pulse between your legs.

he groans into your mouth—loudly.

“you don’t get it,” he pants, already unzipping his jacket, kicking his shoes off, breathing fast. “i’ve been trying not to get a fucking boner for the past hour. you kept laughing at yuji, and your shirt’s so—fuck—tight—” he grabs at you, palms your tits through the fabric, groaning as he mouths at your neck. “and i couldn’t stop thinking about how wet you probably were.”

“i am,” you breathe, tugging at his waistband. “i’ve been soaked since you sat next to me.”

“fuck—”

he grabs your hand and shoves it down his pants.

you wrap your fingers around his cock.

he’s thick. hot. and hard like it hurts.

but more than that—you feel it. the weight of his balls, heavy and full against your wrist.

“…holy shit,” you whisper. “your balls are—”

“i know,” he growls, dragging you toward the bed. “they’re fucking full. i’m gonna cum so much.”

you’re giggling now, high and horny and hot all over. the room feels fuzzy, electric, your skin hypersensitive, nipples tingling under your shirt, every step toward the bed making your cunt clench.

clothes come off fast. you drop onto the mattress, legs open, wet already slicking your thighs, and when he gets on top of you, he just stares.

“you’re so wet,” he murmurs, dragging two fingers through your folds. they come back dripping. he stares at the slick like it’s a miracle, mouth open. “i didn’t even do anything yet.”

"you’re high,” you grin.

he presses those fingers against your clit.

you scream.

"no," he says, blinking slow. “you’re high. you’re, like—extra sensitive. i can feel your pussy fluttering already.”

you pull him down and kiss him again, breathy, moaning into his mouth as he lines himself up—and then he pushes in.

fuck.

it’s overwhelming. slippery. tight. every vein on his cock dragging along your walls like it’s amplified, like you’re both built for this and your bodies just didn’t know it until you were high enough to feel everything. you’re whining against his throat, nails digging into his back, while he groans into your shoulder.

“you’re so tight—i can feel everything—i’m gonna cum so fast—”

“don’t,” you beg. “don’t yet—i’m gonna cum too—i’m so close—”

and then he thrusts.

once.

you both moan. loud. shameless.

the drag, the stretch, the slide of his cock inside you is so good you’re already clenching hard, pussy gripping him like a vice, and he can’t stop moving. he starts fucking you—slow at first, trying to hold on, but it’s so good, you’re both too high to think, too soaked to stop.

your clit’s throbbing, cock pulsing inside you, balls slapping your ass, and every time he pulls out even an inch you feel your walls ache for him again.

“i’m gonna—fuck, i’m gonna cum—” you gasp, grabbing his face. “please—cum with me—don’t pull out—”

he slams into you deep and stays there.

“i’m gonna fill you up so much,” he moans, voice ragged and desperate, hips twitching. “you’re gonna feel it dripping out of you all night.”

then he cums.

so fucking hard.

you feel it. spurt after spurt, heat spilling inside you while your pussy milks him, fluttering and pulsing around his cock as your orgasm crashes over you like a fucking tidal wave.

you scream into his neck, shaking, while he groans through his release, balls tight, cock twitching with every drop.

and when he collapses on top of you, both of you panting, sweaty, fucked beyond words, he presses his forehead to yours.

“…best trip ever.”

[graythecoffeebean]

୨୧﹕fem!reader, megumi fights an aphrodisiac cursed spirit

the door slams open behind you.

you barely have time to turn your head from your spot on megumi’s bed before you hear the heavy fall of his boots, the low, strangled grunt of his breath. he looks like hell—hair a mess, cheeks flushed, uniform torn across the shoulder, sweat rolling down the line of his throat.

“meg—?” you start to rise, concern in your voice.

“don’t,” he snaps. not mean—just sharp, like it hurts to talk. his eyes are wild. dark. hungry. dilated.

you freeze.

something’s wrong.

he shuts the door hard, turns the lock without breaking eye contact, and stalks toward you. his jacket hits the floor. then his shirt. then he's standing over you, breathing hard, fists clenched at his sides, cock already straining in his pants like it’s painful.

“i ran into something,” he grits out, voice trembling. “cursed spirit. spores. pollen. i don’t—” his jaw tenses. “it… does something.”

your lips part.

“…an aphrodisiac?”

his eyes burn into you. he nods once.

“i didn’t come here to be sweet,” he growls. “i came here because i can’t fucking think.”

then he's on you.

mouth crashing to yours, hot and needy, tongue forcing its way past your lips like he needs to taste you, breathe you, crawl inside you just to cool the ache. his hands are everywhere—shoving your shirt up, yanking your shorts down, fumbling and feral like he’s going to lose his mind if he’s not buried in you now.

you try to say his name, try to gasp, but then he’s flipping you over—pushing your face into the mattress, yanking your hips up. his fingers dig into your skin, holding you like you’re the only thing keeping him from burning alive.

“don’t scream,” he snarls in your ear, already dragging the head of his cock through your folds, thick and throbbing and leaking against your soaked cunt. “yuji and inumaki are still in the dorm.”

you whimper, nodding, but the second he thrusts in—deep, hard, to the fucking hilt—your back arches and a cry rips from your throat.

his hand slams over your mouth.

“i said quiet.”

he fucks you like he’s possessed. brutal, relentless, his cock stretching you wide, pounding into you so hard the mattress creaks with every thrust. you’re drooling into the sheets, tears stinging your eyes, so full, and his breath is hot and ragged against your neck.

“feels so fucking good,” he growls, like he’s angry about it. “you always get this tight? or is it ‘cause you like me losing control?”

you try to speak, but all that comes out is a sob under his hand.

he shifts—wraps an arm around your neck, pulling you up against his chest into a tight headlock, his cock still driving into you from behind, hips slapping against your ass. you can barely breathe. your body is shaking.

“gonna cum,” he mutters against your ear, voice cracked and desperate. “inside—i don’t care—i need it—fuck—fuck—”

you clench, moan, fall apart around him—and he groans, low and filthy, as he slams in one last time and spills inside you, hot and thick and endless, grinding in to make sure every drop stays.

the room goes quiet except for the sound of your gasping breath and his heartbeat slamming against your spine.

he stays inside you.

still twitching.

still holding you.

“…don’t tell yuji,” he mutters hoarsely.

you laugh, ruined.

“i can’t even talk.”

[graythecoffeebean]

🎀~ 𝕌𝕟𝕡𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕝

Megumi sees you in a g-string/thong for the first time—immediately regretting calling them unpractical

aged up Megumi, lingerie, doggy-style, mdni

"What is that?" Megumi asks with a raised eyebrow.

He watches you as you take your shopping haul out of their bags. There a food, mostly sweets and some your guy's favourite snacks. A few clothes, some  soft pyjamas for him and some tops for you. But what caught his eyes the most, was the small, thin, lacy piece of clothing you were taking out of a bag.

For each item you would say short sentence, about what is and why you bought it. Almost as if you were making a video. Megumi loves it, he finds your voice relaxing and watches intently, but would never admit that he likes it that much. Most of the time he pretends he couldn't care less.

But for this item, you didn't say anything, simply putting it to the side with the rest of the folded clothes you bought.

"Oh, just panties. Needed some new ones." You say casually, already un-bagging other items.

Megumi crawls closer to you on the couch, reaching to grab the piece of clothing beside you. He holds it with both hands, fingers pinching each corner as he holds it up in front of him.

"Why's it so... thin?" He says almost confused. "These do NOT look like your regular panties." You watch as your boyfriend messes with the fabric and measures it with his fingers.

"It's a thong, Megumi." You explain, watching him with a small smile.

"You said it was panties."

"They're the same thing."

"No. This one looks more uncomfortable. The straps are too thin, they'd barely cover and protect your skin. It's almost like it'll just go between your-" His face flushes at the thought. "A-and the lace... it look... itchy. It might irritate your skin."

You giggle softly, looking at your boyfriend who looks genuinely worried. But nothing can hide the blush that decorates his face. Gently, you take the white thong out of his hand, swinging it around your finger.

"I just wanted to try them out, okay?" You shrug, leaning back on the couch.

Megumi rolls his eyes. "It's unpractical."

"Impractical."

"Unpractical." He repeats himself. Using the less popular, but better word.

"Whatever. I'm just gonna try them on." You push yourself off the couch and start heading to your bedroom.

Megumi just sits there, sighing before he continues reading his book while waiting for you. After a few moments, you emerge from the bedroom. Wearing your loose indoor t-shirt and the thong. Megumi's eyes flick up to you like a deer caught in headlights. Your face shows uncertainty and you do a quick spin. You didn't really think they looked good.

"They look kind of weird..." You mutter, looking at Megumi.

His lips are slightly agape, his grip on his book tightening. He realises he's staring and immediately looks away, clearing throat. His face is bright red and he hastily places his book on top of his lap, to cover a certain something.

"It looks good." He utters.

You tilt your head to the side and start walking over to him. He tenses up the closer you get. You take a seat on his lap.

"Oh? But I thought you said it's unpractical?"

~~~

"F-fuck, you better buy more of these..." He tugs on the thong with his right hand, his other hand pushing down on your back, keeping it arched.

Your face is smothered against the pillows, muffled noises leaving your lips with every thrust of Megumi's hips. His cock grazing against the narrow fabric of your thong that's pushed to the side. He's so deep inside you, you swear you feel him pounding your cervix.

Every time you try to shy away or escape his relentless thrusts into your poor pussy, he only presses you harder against the bed. Every time you try to bring your rear down, away from his length that slides in and out, in such ways that hit every perfect spot inside you that makes you squirm.

He uses his grip on your thong to pull your ass back up, so he could keep himself deep inside your battered pussy.

"This thing looks so- hck! G-good on you, fuck, Y/n..." He groans into your ear. His hard chest leaning against your back. 

He lifts himself off you, angling his hips. He watches how your essence drips out of you, and ruins your thong. Loving how every time he hits the right spot, you just cry and squirm. He tugs you higher up by your thong. The fabric tight against your clit now. Friction being made as he tugs and pulls, very thrust making the thong move against your little bud.

His thrusts become sloppy and his hold on you tighter. He moves his other hand off your back and uses it to hold your waist. He buries himself deep inside you before releasing into the elastic of the condom, the warmth of his seed making your walls soak.

"C'monnnn, you too now." He lets go your thong and rubs his fingers against the fabric that cover your clit. Slowly moving inside of you a bit more until you come around him, making both your head fuzzy.

His thrown back head tilts back down to look at you. Writhing under him, your newly bought white thong wet and the lace slightly ripped.

"Let's get you washed up. We're going to the mall."

[graythecoffeebean]

Kento Nanami x Reader

OlderBoyfriend! Kento Nanami, posted on his instagram??..

you’d recently taught your older boyfriend, Kento, how to use Instagram so you could tag him in posts and stories of the two of you. But you never expected him to eventually engage in posting online, so it was a surprise when you refreshed your feed, only to find a short video of your boyfriend lifting weights at his gym, with an ancient heavy metal song overlapping the background noise he didn’t mute.

And lord behold, he has over fifty thousand likes on all his posts, equaling up to four. Four singular posts. And he's already on top-charts of instagram, without hashtags, and only one previous follower, you.

You currently were sitting in the living room of the shared apartment you'd bought with him a while back, sliding off the couch and walking to the bathroom where he was showering, since he'd just got home from the just mentioned gym.

You knock on the bathroom door, before walking into the steam filled room, shower running and fan on. “Baby.” you say, pulling the curtain aside, staring at him.

Kento wipes his face of water and turns to you, a small concerned frown on his face as he sees your odd expression, “sweetheart, are you alright?” he says quickly, turning the knobs of the shower to stop the water.

You held up your phone that was displaying his page, “you didn't tell me you started posting videos?” you say, legs shifting slightly as you spoke, and of course, he noticed.

He grabs his towel and wraps it around his waist, stepping out and taking the phone out of your hand and putting it down on the countertop softly, pulling you into a small embrace, looking down at you, “is that the matter, darling?” he mumbles, kissing the top of your head, “I’ll delete them if you'd like, i just thought other men would like to see the process-”

You stop him, placing your fingers to squish his lips together, “I’m just surprised you didn't tell me, that's all, I’m not mad.” you say quietly, “but I do want you to put my username in your bio.” you finish, kissing his cheek and letting him go.

He blanked for a moment, a brow lifting.

“Sweetheart, What's a ‘bio’?”

© all works belong to chikithree. do not copy, repost, or translate my works.

[graythecoffeebean]

Frosted Glass & Firelight

Megumi x Reader - Part 2 of "No More Interruptions"

a/n: Girrrrll- I'm down bad. Welp- Here we go Part 2 of "No More Interruptions"

Contains: soft morning after, reader getting pounded, cold glass on nipples, him calling reader perfect, possessive Megumi - god I’m melting

You woke to the soft creak of the cabin shifting under early morning light and the gentle pressure of fingers dragging slowly across your hip.

You were still naked under the blanket, limbs tangled with Megumi’s, the air around you tinged with the scent of last night—sex, sweat, firewood, and pine.

His mouth found your shoulder before his voice did.

“Good morning.” His hand slightly squeezing at your hips, pushing his hips against your ass.

You smiled sleepily, eyes still closed. “You’re already starting something?”

“I never stopped,” he murmured, his voice low and rough from sleep. “You looked too good to leave alone.”

His hand slid down your bare stomach, dipping between your thighs, fingers brushing gently over your still-sensitive center. You gasped softly, your body already responding to him.

“Still so wet and warm for me,” he whispered into your ear, teeth grazing the lobe. “Didn’t even take much.”

“Megumi…” you breathed, your hand sliding over his hip, feeling how hard he already was behind you.

He kissed the back of your neck, then your shoulder blade.

Before you could protest, he pulled the blanket off and took your hand, guiding you across the cabin floor, barefoot and naked, until your body met the cool glass of the wide front window.

The early light was soft and silver, fog still clinging to the edges of the pine trees. The air was cool, but Megumi was warm behind you—his chest pressed to your back, one arm wrapping around your waist as his free hand pushed gently between your thighs again.

“No one’s out there,” he said, his voice low, dangerous. “It’s just us. You, me, and this view.”

You gasped as he dipped two fingers inside you, curling them slow and deep while his other hand came up to cup your breast. His hips ground against you, hard and insistent, his cock brushing your lower back.

“I want you right here,” he whispered, kissing behind your ear. “I want the sunrise on your skin when I show you just how much I love you.”

Your knees almost gave out, but he caught you—gripping your hips as he guided you to bend slightly, hands braced on the window. The glass was cold against your nipples, your breath fogging up the pane as you moaned softly, already aching for him.

He didn’t tease this time. He slid into you in one slow thrust, groaning your name into your neck as your body took all of him. You cried out, forehead pressing to the window, the glass rattling with every slow, deep stroke.

He fucked you like he had all the time in the world. Long, dragging thrusts that had your nails scraping at the glass and your thighs trembling.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, fingers digging into your hips. “So tight. So fucking perfect.”

You whimpered his name, begging him not to stop, your voice hoarse and desperate as he sped up—his hips snapping against yours, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the quiet morning cabin.

His hand snaked around again, rubbing your clit in firm circles as he whispered, “Come for me. Want to feel you while I’m still deep inside you.”

And you did—crying out loud enough to startle the birds outside, your walls clenching around him as your orgasm rolled through you.

He followed with a broken moan, hips jerking as he came hard inside you, gripping your body like he never wanted to let go.

⸻

You stayed there for a moment—both breathless and sweaty, pressed against the window with the sun on your skin and his chest warm against your back.

Eventually, he pulled out slowly, catching you before your legs gave out completely.

“You’re dangerous,” you said, still panting, turning to face him with flushed cheeks and a shaky grin.

He kissed your lips softly. “And you’re mine.”

⸻

Later, wrapped in a blanket with tea and aching thighs, you asked:

“So… how long are we staying here?”

Megumi smirked. “As long as it takes to make up for every time they interrupted us.”

a/n; Well, well, well~ Look what the cat dragged in. Oh and its saucy- Hope you had fun reading, till later you saucy fellows

[graythecoffeebean]

Veiled Secrets

art is by @3-aem they're insanely talented 🥹

pairings- emperor! gojo x arranged empress! reader

summary -you've been set to marry the new emperor Satoru Gojo, but he wants nothing to do with all of that, he doesn't even come to your first meeting - rude! No, he must bathe with his concubines, but when he sees you for the first time and doesn't even know you're his wife? Everything shifts, but it turns out he doesn't know that you're not happy to be here either. Leaving your past love behind and everything you know for a foreign country, just to be unwanted by your new 'husband' is almost enough to break you. You're ready to go through the motions, play your role, but do you really know who Emperor Gojo is?

contents/warnings - heavy angst, depression, enemies to lovers, longing, mutual pining, explicit smut, back and forth games, court tactics, Satoru being a hoe, reader missing her lover Suguru, a fuck ton of drama and games, he falls hard. This chap - oral (m and f receiving), fingering, angst and jealousy, Satoru kinda being a dick but also a consent king, masturbation (m), mentions of sex with others- 11k WC - based on emperor! gojo headcanons

This one the poll as the thank you for 20k followers!! Thank you all sm 💗 If you enjoy, rbs and comments are so appreciated!

Part One

The pretty, intricate tea cup swirls with amber liquid, you’re gently spinning your little gold spoon in it, as you wonder at the time. It’s your second cup of tea, as you wait for him - your husband to be, the Emperor Gojo. You don’t know anything about him aside from tales of his military exploits, and you have heard he’s very young still. Some say he’s handsome, but you can’t say you care.

The memories of the love you left, the family you left behind, to now be surrounded by strangers, was brutal, lingering pain mixing with the terror of being in a new country. You are trying to understand their customs, their cultures, luckily you know their language, but you miss your home terribly. You miss feeling safe in the castle you grew up in.

Mostly, you miss him - your guard, the man you’d just finally started to kiss, he’d started to explore your body when you two had the briefest of moments. You thought you’d run away with him, only to be dragged here, without a chance to do more than leave him a letter of farewell, and now you’re waiting for a man for - it must have been an hour - sipping on your third cup of tea.

Everything is immaculate in this place, your chambers, the pavilion itself, covered in blues and whites, the colors of the Gojo family. You were greeted friendly enough, shown your new ladies in waiting, as yours were not allowed to come, the palace itself was under constant high security. They didn’t welcome outsiders, and you can tell they don’t welcome you.

Having been whispered about, talked about as you walked through the lively pavilions, passing many workers and ladies who bow to you, before whispering behind your back. It’s as if everyone smiles to your face, then starts gossiping - and god do you hear all of it, even now, the three ladies standing behind you murmur to each other behind their fans.

He’s an hour late, he’s not coming!

What an insult… he’s probably with his favorite concubine!

Concubine Lola, it must be.

What if we worked for her - her pavilion-

“Could you all please stop?” Your words have the three girls gasping, you don’t even look back at them, tracing your fingers along the pretty rose patterns of your tea cup, of the little dish under it. You scoop some of the honey in a little dish, watching it roll gently into the tea, still steaming up with puffs of condensation.

They quiet down, or their whispers are quieter you should say, as you sit there in your immaculate gowns, the highest of fashion. You were done up with make up, your hair piled high in the latest fashion with the prettiest blue pin that had been bestowed upon you from him - from Gojo - through a servant of his.

Yet, here you are, alone.

Your mind drifts as you wait, as you eye the elaborate tarts that the cook has whipped up, sitting there untouched, your tummy hurting from the nausea rolling over you in waves. How could you just leave Suguru behind? Did he get your letter? He always knew there wasn’t much hope, but you were the one littered with wild ideas, the hopeful one.

He kissed your neck the last time you saw him, toying with you under your skirts - the style back home was many voluminous ones, and he had no problem finding your clit under them. He’d drank in your quiet little whimpers as his violet eyes looked down at you, his other hand at the nape of your neck when you’d said it - I love you.

He had kissed you quiet, having you cum for the first time, the memories make you heat up and blush. You’d both had to separate, and that’s the night you found out you had to leave your home forever. Not just another territory or land, no - an entire country, a five day trip on ship and two days on land to get here. A man who clearly has no interest to even show up.

Suddenly, a beautiful woman with long white locks comes in, smiling kindly at you, she has brilliant blue eyes - so blue they’re enchanting. You quickly recover your thoughts, standing as well, palms just a little sweaty as you bow your head, and she does as well, decked in the color blue, her hair falling just a bit in front of a beautiful face.

“Former Empress Gojo,” she greets then, she comes over to kindly take your hands, you smile nervously. “I’m so sorry, my son is… occupied… and will not make the meeting.”

“Oh, I see,” you are seething - can he not walk a few steps to greet you after the week it took? But you hold it all in, keeping your composure and smiling, as her ladies whisper behind her to your ladies - god the court is gossipy. “Is he well, your majesty?”

“Don’t be so formal, I’ll be your mother in law soon.” She kindly smiles, but you hear the whispers.

He’s with all of them?

At once? Scandalous!

Do they get along that well?

“Ladies,” his mother chides them, like a sweet mother duck, and they instantly quiet, she looks at you, tilting her head. “You are most beautiful.”

“Oh, thank you Lady Gojo.” You bow your head again.

“And such manners, you’ll do well.” You wish her words made you feel better, but they don’t.

You just want to fucking go home.

But you put on your fake smile, you’ve done it your entire life as a princess, you’re truly just moving from one gilded cage to another, that’s all your home was - despite the love and friends you built. You had no freedom, and you won’t have any here, where at least your parents were doting, they used you as a political pawn, such is what happens to women.

You thought you could really run away, how foolish a thought. It sinks in your mind like a cruel joke, as the former Empress Gojo goes on, she’s so kind, you can feel it’s not fake. It seems genuine, her understanding, like she’s been here before - clearly from some different land judging by her unique looks. You wonder what she thought when she had to go through this.

“I will have our attendant Ijichi show you around, he’s very knowledgeable about everything here, moreso than even my son, don’t tell him I said so.” She laughs a bit at that, you give her a perfunctory smile.

“You are most gracious, Lady Gojo.”

Soon a tired looking man walks in, but he seems sweet and kind, smiling and bowing his head. He wears a little monocle on one eye, wearing the traditional dark blue robes you’ve seen other attendants and guards wear. He takes your hand and bows over it, some inky black locks falling over his brow.

“My lady,” his voice is quiet and calm. Aside from Lady Gojo, this may be the only other person you have had a decent sense of character from. “It’s an honor.”

“Hello, Mr. Ijichi, I’m excited to learn more about the palace.” You smile and he nods his head a bit.

“I’ll show you around so you know where to go, I’m so sorry his majesty… was… occupied.” The snickering of the six girls earns Gojo’s mother’s scowl, and they quickly hush, but you see a blush on Ijichi’s face, a frown.

“It’s quite understandable, he must be busy. I look forward to meeting him,” you’re lying through your teeth, but you know it’s the correct move, as he smiles with an exhale of relief. It wasn’t his fault his Emperor was seemingly a man whore. “I’d love a tour.”

“Then let us go.” You say your farewells, and Ijichi walks you outside, his hands together under his large sleeves, and you notice many onlookers whispering.

She’s so beautiful.

She is, but can she catch his attention?

He’s clearly not interested, despite her beauty.

Emperor Gojo is about more than looks.

He is quite quirky.

“Do they always gossip like this?” Your question earns a surprised laugh from Ijichi, he seems stoic but his smile is sweet.

“They never stop.”

“God!”

He chuckles again, and you find yourself comfortable with him - when you learn he’s twenty seven however, you have to wonder how hard Gojo works this poor man. Five years older than you and he seems much older, perhaps Gojo was every bit the tough ruler he was rumored to be.

“This is the bathhouse, if you wish you can bathe here instead of your chambers, it is renowned to be one of the best.” You look curiously, remembering the last time you bathed was before you came here, you’d die for one right now.

“Are they?”

“Indeed, they are. Here is one of the temples,” he’s pointing as you two walk, you incline your head at passersby, all while walking right next to him. “This one is a sacred temple from many centuries ago.”

“It’s quite beautiful,” you eye it, truly majestic in front of you, with its gorgeous architecture quite different from many. “Can I go there?”

“Unfortunately only men can enter,” he blushes then. “I’m sorry my lady.”

“No, that’s quite alright.”

“This temple,” he points to another distant one, as the sun warms you over the thick silk brocade of your yukata, and a few pretty butterflies flutter by. You focus on where he’s pointing, a large dark green building with curved roofs in the distance. “You could enter with your future husband, however.”

“Ah,” nice, you could enter a temple with the man you don’t know, the one too good to meet you for tea. “And this building?”

“It’s the sapphire pavilion,” he trails off again, clearing his throat. “It’s Concubine Lola’s pavilion.”

“I see.” You remember hearing earlier, she’s his favorite, her pavilion is perhaps more opulent than any of the others you’ve seen, second only to yours.

“Yes, it is quite lovely I suppose.” He seems unimpressed, eyeing you then. “I believe Emperor Gojo will… enjoy your pavilion, if that’s not too bold to say.”

It’s your turn to blush, looking down now, hands in front of you as you two walk along the soft grassy knowl, and he lays one of his outer robes down for you to sit. You smile and thank him. “I don’t know if I agree.”

“I have known Master Gojo my entire life, I do believe it’s true,” his soft words make you relax just a bit. “Master Gojo is young and… difficult at times.”

“Perhaps I wish I’d have you for a fiance.”

“My lady!”

“You’re very sweet.” You’re giggling behind your hand as he blushes.

“I’m no Emperor Gojo, but thank you for the kind words.”

“Ah, well I don’t know him yet. I know no one here,” your words get trapped in your throat, you watch the hustle of the servants as they work, cleaning or gardening, the merchants taking down their carts across the way in a little circular shop, while a butterfly lands on your knee. “Oh look.”

“They say it’s good luck, my lady.” He smiles kindly again, reaching a finger out for the butterfly to go to.

“He likes you.” He laughs a bit, sighing.

“Insects do.”

“They’re good judges of character.”

“He will like you, I know it,” you’re unconvinced, it’s as if Ijichi feels sorry and is trying to cheer you up, but you nod a bit to appease him. He stands and holds out a hand, helping you up. You brush yourself off and hand him his now crumbled robe, which he folds over an arm. “Let us go back.”

You miss him already when he leaves, the kindness of him was so welcome in this place of deceit, of fakeness, of lies. Everyone seemed out for something, you suppose home wasn’t much different, but to the extent the ladies gossiped it was utterly ridiculous.

“I’d like to go to the bathhouse, Miwa would you take me?” You ask one of the girls, she’s a little quieter than the other two, a little more friendly.

“Of course I can, my lady, but also you could have a bath run?”

“I hear they’re very nice, and I’d love a chance to see.” She nods, grabbing a gown for you, as the other two whisper again, earning your eye roll. “I brought some hair soap, let me fetch it.”

“What’s hair soap?” She asks, you show her now and she seems curious. 

“I have several if you’d like to try.”

“If it makes my hair that beautiful, yes!” She’s smiling warmly at you, now you feel just a little more comfortable, as she walks you through the massive doors, it’s dusk now, the sky alit with purples and oranges. “Emperor Gojo is the most handsome man in the land.”

“Is he now,” you really don’t give a fuck, to be quite honest. Suguru was a beautiful man, his violet eyes, his little lazy smile, elegant fingers that would hold your hand in secret any chance he got. Gojo may be gorgeous, but you had him in your head, the man who loved you.

Well, you think he did?

He never got a chance to say if he did back or not, kissing you in that moment, the last moment you had. The nightmares over and over on the trip were enough to make you sick, you kept writing letters and burning them, not knowing how the fuck you’d ever get one to him in secret. Your parents were fond of him but never enough to match your station.

“What’s wrong, my lady?” You realize you’ve quit walking then, just standing there as the pain echoes.

“I’m sorry, I’m a little tired, Miwa.” She nods, and you enter the enormous bathhouse now, fragrant steam already pricking your nose as you two enter a room with several women changing.

You blush just a bit, things were more open here than back home, the girls are more friendly as they smile, and walk off, leaving you to have Miwa start undoing your obi, the delicate bands of silk. She’s slowly untying you until you’re bare, and then steps in front of you, holding the thin white shift out.

“We wear this?” 

“You will, yes, attendants don’t bathe here, we go to a different area of the bathhouse.” She’s slipping it over your head, like a whisper of silk as it dances across your body, while Satoru is on the other side, being fed grapes and lavished on by his favorite girls, in lieu of meeting you.

Satoru Gojo’s kissing his favorite, Lola, her pretty lips dewy from the baths, as his other girls are brushing their hands all across his body. He’s chuckling a bit, trying to kiss every single one of the four girls now, they’re all touching him, massaging him, littering kisses on his body. The warm waters undulate against his skin, lapping around his chest as he sighs, his eyes shutting.

It’s almost good enough to forget the endless responsibilities he never fucking wanted, all the sweet scents and practiced touches of his concubines. If Satoru could say anything was a perk, it was the beautiful, voluptuous fucking concubines, as if they were all tailored to perfection. Their giggles get louder when he sucks one of their tits in his mouth, over the thin white material, the others clamoring over who got it next.

Even for an emperor, Satoru Gojo was bold.

Emperors did not lay with more than one concubine at once, it was not a harem after all, though in his travels he’d seen several of those. Now that seemed the way to do it, have a house full of beautiful girls that only fuck him, only want him. Utterly devoted, though these girls were in their own way, he also knew their power plays.

They all wanted one thing, Satoru to put babies in them, and well… he had not made that happen yet. Just two years into it, and young, it was normal, but Satoru made sure he didn’t have babies, pulling out strategically without them noticing, because he just wasn’t ready yet for more responsibility. Plus, once you had one heir, you needed a spare, and more and more with how fragile that could be.

He wanted to have a little more fun, but also he hates tradition, hates the duty disposed on him. War and battle were something he was inherently good at, but running things politically was outright boring. Much of that fun was coming to an end, with this mysterious fucking wife he was to marry in a few weeks time.

He knows he irritated his mother not showing up, but being fed grapes and having his dick sucked? Much better time spent in his opinion, than some meek little princess from far away. She'd likely be some perfectly trained airhead, all the broken betrothal before were just that, but apparently this one they would have no argument of.

He's not really curious about her, he supposes he'll have to see her soon, perhaps lay with her, then he'll come back to his other girls. Life is mostly good for him when he loses himself in them, in drinks and throwing elaborate parties, in forgetting the overwhelming duties that lie ahead. 

Suddenly, the doors to the baths open, certain high ranking ladies could also come in, so he curiously looks over, to a sight that makes his heart pound in his fucking chest. She's beautiful, surely but he shouldn't be so affected, when her eyes catch his and he's dying to know just what's behind them.

Satoru just doesn't think that way.

You catch sight of him as Miwa undoes your hair fully, letting it fall and brush against bare shoulders, you feel exposed then, to his insanely bright eyes. He is as beautiful as they say, perhaps even moreso, the glimpses of the hard lines of his face, as the soft lanterns cast a glow above.

Surrounded by four beautiful women, but he's staring right at you instead. You figure he's curious who you are, and brush off the feeling. Miwa dampens your hair and proceeds to massage it in your scalp, you sigh at how good it feels, head falling back a bit, eyes fluttering shut.

Satoru can't take not knowing who you are one more moment.

“Who is she?” He asks Lola then, and she blinks a bit, tilting her head, her dark locks falling over a shoulder.

“I’ve never seen her, Gojo,” she looks at her scrutinizingly. “She is… perhaps going to fill Concubine Ana’s place?”

“I heard someone would be soon,” says Concubine Lara now. “She’s very beautiful.”

“She doesn’t look like she’s from here, however,” Lola says curiously. “Her attendant also looks unfamiliar.”

“Hmm.” He’s eyeing you carefully, as you step down into the waters, you dip your head back and then stand up, and that’s when he sees your entire body from that soaked, thin white material. It clings to every delicate line and curve of a body that makes him ache.

You’re so lovely, though you’re not even looking in his direction, leaning back against the wall and sighing, your breasts gently rising and falling, as if begging for his mouth, for his hands. He can’t help but be drawn to you, looking like some beautiful painting, serene and ever so precious, the need to cup your face was as big as his want to cup your tits.

He’s a lover of all beauty, he has four gorgeous concubines kissing all over him right now, but there’s something about you that leaves him breathless. God, he should feel truly sorry for whoever his wife would be with you here as well, another beauty but one that’s so perfect he can’t fucking speak or think.

His wife truly wouldn’t have a chance if he got you.

He steps away then, much to their displeasure, their pretty pouts, he smiles down at them. “Never fear, I want to find out who she is.”

“Of course, your majesty.” They all incline their heads, none of them were really jealous, though they all pouted a bit that he gave Lola some more attention.

It wasn't that Lola was more beautiful, she was very smart and enjoyed playing chess with him. So he tended to just be there more to hang out with her, having the nicest pavilion wasn't really him either, Lola just decorated the shit out of things and had everything immaculate with her staff.

Aside from that they all got along extremely well, and knew he'd marry. They were a little worried he'd spread his time between five of them, but they know he's proficient at managing them all.

Now, eyes locked on your perfect frame, he walks through the warm waters, feeling them softly ripple as he pushes through the water, until you feel his movements, opening your eyes.

Your eyes, the way they look at him, unreadable and so beautiful, he puts on a charm, a smile, but you just blink, water droplets falling from them as you straighten up, running your hands through silken strands. “I’m emperor Gojo.”

You just eye him further, saying nothing, as he blinks in confusion at you. You turn a bit, sighing, the sadness he hadn’t noticed now prevalent on your face, before your eyes return to his. “An honor, your majesty.”

“Please don’t be formal.” Maybe he is like his mother a bit you muse, taking in the beautiful blue eyes even closer, far too blue, like the sky but with a myriad of shades, some you’ve never seen, framed by thick snowy lashes.

He is a beautiful man, by far, but one that has no interest to you. He seems content with his four concubines, who are whispering right now about you behind his back. “Emperor, then?”

“Call me Gojo, are you… here to fill one of the new concubine positions?” You smile a bit at that, a mean quirk of your lips.

Is this what held him up from tea, fucking four women in the baths? Even for royalty this was quite too much. “No, I’m afraid not.”

“God, what a shame,” he steps closer, until his fingers brush against your cheeks, the sensation feels better than you wished it did. You wished it felt horrible, a betrayal of your love, but the touch makes you tremble, and you can’t lie and say its with disgust.

Satoru is enamored when he touches you under the water then, big hand on the small of your back pressing just so, taking it over as he steps closer, so tall and imposing in the water. Your breasts brush against his abdomen, as your breaths quicken, a mix of irritation and something more you don't want to admit, your nipples pressing on his skin as clear arousal happens from his proximity.

You look down shyly, studying his chest, seeing scars scattered across it. You've heard a lot of his military prowess, but didn’t expect him to be that involved. You almost trace a finger across one of them, raised up and pink, before trailing your gaze back to his eyes, so intense to look at it’s difficult, but it’s also impossible to look away once they’ve caught you.

You both stay there for a moment in the quiet, saying nothing and just looking at each other, when he leans down, pressing you along the warmth of the hard wall behind you. One of his long thighs presses against your heat, and you hate how your body reacts, how your cunt pulses around nothing, tummy clenching then, you know the feeling of desire, so you can’t even lie to yourself.

 It feels like such a betrayal of the one you loved, of Suguru, what was he doing now? You cannot be like this, and for a man who doesn't want to even know you, couldn’t even meet you. He made you look so stupid to everyone, and to what, be fed grapes by naked women? An action he can accomplish anytime.

You bite back a sigh, mind swirling, the steam of the water rising and entering your lungs, your heart fucking hammering. Satoru leans down further, too close, far too close, an arm on either side of you, strong arms bulging with muscles, veins raised under his pale white skin, shades of blue and green that you want to trail your fingertips across.

You must remember who you are, where you are.

There are no friends here, there is no love, lest you be so foolish, lest you be so enamored by pretty eyes, as if your love didn’t have those too. It’s one thing to do your duty, but your heart cannot fall prey to such tactics, he clearly is expert at them, every touch and look feels calculated, like a play unfolding, with the prettiest actor.

“Your majesty…” you trail off, this wasn’t appropriate behavior for him, was it? Perhaps it was, the man wants anything but his bride to be.

“Gojo,” he corrects, a soft chuckle then as he assesses your face at this angle, so tall over you. Satoru was taller than anyone, so it’s how he is, bigger, imposing, but it makes you feel even more fragile in his hold, the thoughts making his cock ache. “So fucking pretty, god.” He murmurs then, and earns your blush.

The outward praise and the lewd way he says it is too much, he chuckles as he sees it, flushed color on your cheeks, when his lips hover over yours now. You think for some insane moment he’ll kiss you. Your hands go to his chest, as if to stop him, when you feel his steady heart beat under your palm, his warm skin even hotter than the water.

“Can you at least tell me your name, mysterious girl?” He asks, and that’s when you snap out of it, for just a moment.

When you say it he immediately recognizes the name, faltering and stepping back, eyes wide, his lips parted as if he means to say something, but nothing comes out. You can’t help but smile, it’s a mean little smile, batting your lashes as you tilt your head, as if you’re stating something so casual, not the fact that you’re the very bride he’s avoiding.

“Indeed, it was such a shame you couldn't meet me for tea, your majesty.” His jaw clenches at that, as you watch him try to save face.

You can’t be his bride, you can’t be…

He knows then, the clear hurt on your face, the sound in your voice, that he did indeed say fuck tradition and miss meeting you to fuck his four girls instead. He didn’t think he’d care how you felt, he didn’t think it would affect him until he saw the lip you’re biting, the anger flashing in your eyes.

“I… well, I…” he’s trailing off, him, the emperor of the nation, lost to an angry little brat in the waters, one clearly relishing in this one moment. He glares now, feeling himself harder as you scowl, why are you so pretty like that!? “I was otherwise occupied.”

“Yes, indeed, I see you were otherwise occupied,” you eye the girls behind his shoulders, whispering to each other wildly, when you push him back, hands on his chest. “It's rude not to even meet me after I got dragged on a five day journey by ship, you know.”

He is eyeing your hands on his chest that he now pins there for a moment, gripping your delicate wrist with long fingers. It feels too good then, his hold on you, doing things to your body you don’t want to even try to comprehend. Your eyes lock again, as he speaks. “You're my... you can't be... you…”

A sigh escapes your lips, as you tug your hands back from his firm hold, before your dumb brain thinks about those long fingers one more moment. You lick your lips, feeling your throat has suddenly gone dry, nodding. “Yes, I'm your betrothed, I suppose this is our first meeting.”

“I suppose it is…” He trails off, brushing back strands of that silken white hair, looking down now at your body again, in a way that feels like he’s fucking touching you. Part of you wants to shrink back, but the other makes you stand firm, tilting your chin up and keeping eye contact.

“I'll leave you to your pretty concubines, I'm afraid I don't intend on becoming one.” You turn and climb up those steps, the slip forming to you like a goddess, as you turn him down.

No one has ever turned Emperor Gojo down, and not because of his power, his wealth, no everyone wanted him for so much more. His prowess in bed, his body, his face, his entire aura, yet here you are, turning and giving him a little smile as your attendant hands you a towel.

He repeats your name softly, you look back at him, smiling again, that mean little one he’d love to kiss off you, a thought that makes no fucking sense. He watches as those droplets fall from your curves, the material rippling and clinging to every part of you, fucking him up to distraction.

“Perhaps you'll make it to the wedding, your majesty,” you say, wrapping yourself up with the towel, and bowing - a mocking fucking bow that makes him glare right at you as you walk off.

He doesn’t even go back to the four girls waiting, he is so confused by what just happened, instead drying off and then sitting in the sauna, leaning his head back on one of the wooden benches. As if the steam and heat will just fucking sap whatever the fuck you just did to him away.

*****

It’s the day of your wedding to Emperor Gojo.

You’ve not seen him since that fateful meeting in the baths, and you’ve avoided him actively when you’ve run into him, every time you see him you either duck behind a pillar, a fruit stand, something. Once you couldn’t so you just inclined your head in a bow and continued, infuriating the living fuck out of him. He’s seen you hiding and ducking like a foolish child.

He doesn’t actively seek you out however, he doesn’t make any of the three meetings you’re supposed to have before marriage. So it’s both of you just avoiding each other like a plague, he’s laughing with that booming sound of his, throwing his head back as he walks arm in arm with his girls. You stay alone, just your attendants walking behind you.

People are spreading rumors about his clear lack of interest, and Satoru hears them frequently. When one of his concubines says something to the other about how he must not find you to his liking, he almost wants to laugh, because that sure the fuck wasn’t the case. If it were looks alone, you were the epitome of everything he finds attractive, but it’s more than that.

For the past few days his mind keeps fucking drifting to you, he can’t stand it truly, when he was getting his cock sucked by Lola and had to shut his eyes, wondering what it’d be like between your plush lips. He was so frustrated he couldn’t even keep it hard - and that has never happened to Emperor Gojo, notorious in fact for round after round.

Lola had been as perplexed by him at this development, but now when he walks past you and inhales your sweet scent, his cock is hard from that. Absolutely infuriating, he wonders if your country is one of witches truly, and you’re here to just fuck with him, ignoring him on top of it. Your chin up in the air, stubborn and rude as you walk by in those pretty robes.

It’s an agonizing few days, for Satoru, and a dreadful few days for you. All you can think of is Suguru, you keep writing and writing, knowing he’ll never see it, until your tears soak the ink on the paper. You’d hug your pillow in that huge bed, in that lonely room, hating yourself for even finding Satoru attractive, forcing those thoughts out of your head, so you can remember.

He didn’t want this anymore than you did.

The thoughts of that reign supreme now, that it wasn’t as if Satoru wanted this marriage, and in that way perhaps you two could find some common ground, some agreement that keeps the contact minimal. You’re knowledgeable about what your role is as a wife, how to serve him sexually and domestically, so you hope that will help you separate it all.

The only experience you had was Suguru, his loving kisses and his desperate tugs at your bodice, he’d slip a nipple into his mouth while hidden in the corners, behind the curtains, wherever he could get a moment. Brief, beautiful moments, where you fell deeper each time, that can’t just fade, it can’t just disappear.

To know you’ll watch your husband with several women, that he’ll not just sleep with them, but spend time with them, have babies with them, and you can’t even write the man you love is an even more bitter pill to swallow. You know it’s a man’s world, of course it is, but the cruelty there is a joke, at least back home men tried to keep their mistresses hidden.

You know Suguru would have never been that way.

You try to push past the hurt as you enter the immaculate hall where you are to bind yourself forever to a stranger. You walk quietly, looking at the man who doesn’t want to be here any more than you did, truly, eyeing the tall white haired man wearing his thick dark blue sokutai. It was not a traditional one, the robes altered to reveal far too much of his muscled chest, as Satoru liked to do you noticed.

He seemed to relish in how attractive everyone found him, a trait that just turned you off more truly, but you suppose none of it matters, this is all for political gain, for a show. There will be nothing between you two, even though with each step bringing you closer, you feel the pressure eating at you, you feel the walls closing the fuck in until you almost can’t move.

The eyes on you, the whispers, and now Satoru’s blue eyes drinking you in, you actually for one moment tremble, before putting on your fake fucking smile, the one that you practiced in the mirror. Making gracious head movements as your robes trail, whispers of silk and satin along the laid out rug you’re walking across, meeting his gaze finally.

Satoru’s heart hammers in his fucking chest as you come closer, as all of you enters his field of vision. To say you were beautiful before seems an understatement, now looking at you leaves him speechless, throat dry as you wear that beautiful sky blue ceremonial juunihitoe, layers of blue and white, embossed with silver flowers just flowing from your body. 

His pulse races so badly he can hear the blood flow in his ears, swallowing nervously as you clutch your hands together until you’re in front of him. He tentatively takes your hand, swallowing it in his huge grip, fingers wrapping around your own, not saying anything, but looking at you so intensely. You see none of his concubines attended, perhaps they do not join such festivities.

You wonder if he can’t wait to go back, and you wonder if it bothers you either way, as the ceremony begins. It’s long and tiring, as they say the words that you both scarcely pay attention to, as they bond you together in a contract that is iron clan, that will never be something you can get out of. You feel your freedom - did you ever have it?- slip away with every word.

Satoru is surprisingly quiet, you’re not sure what you expected, something mocking or some sort of boredom, but he’s frowning, eyeing you over and over, as if searching for something. You wonder if he’s trying to find a flaw, or if he’s just trying to find something he might like about you enough to handle the times he would have to spend.

In the first month, he would have to spend all his time in this pavilion, not to say he would not go off and do things, but husbands - even emperors - were supposed to spend some time devoted to their new brides. You imagine he wouldn’t like it anymore than you would.

There is music playing, and beautiful dancers waving their fans, when you both sip on each of the three cups of sake, as is tradition, speaking the words. Satoru places his lips on one end of the little ceramic dish, then hands it to you, eyeing the red painted on your lips.

He notices how it shimmers, that your makeup has been done clearly, there's color under your eyes, a pinkish hue that makes them appear even prettier. He catches sight of the blush along your precious cheeks - precious, why did he think that? The thought irritates him, along with not being able to rip his fucking eyes off you, when you two continue the ceremony. 

Eventually it’s well past night time, and he's prepared in just a thin Kimono from his attendant, loosely tied. “Master Gojo…”

“Yes, Ijichi?” He’s very close with him, Ijichi has been serving Gojo since he was a teen himself, he eyes the tired man, who sighs a bit, tightening the sash.

“I think your new bride is…”

“Speak it, you’re allowed.”

“She’s lovely,” Satoru blinks in surprise then, Ijichi has never said that about a single one of the ladies here, to the point Satoru assumed maybe he didn’t even like women. “It’s bold.”

“You think a lady is pretty? That’s new.” Satoru teases, and Ijichi stands back, serious look as always on his face, but he’s also shifting a bit, nervously.

“I think many women are pretty, I suppose I meant her… not just her outer appearance.” Satoru tilts his head in confusion now.

“Not just appearance?”

“She’s caring, funny, and intelligent. She was very kind to me as well…” Satoru could swear he sees a blush for the first time on Ijichi’s cheeks, is it possible your witchcraft has even affected his butler?

“I see, you like her.”

“Very much so, I just wonder if you might too, I know you’re against this marriage, but you never know.” Satoru looks away then, sighing a bit.

“Not sure she’s fond of me.”

“You did miss tea-”

“Are you on her side!? You serve me.”

“Yes, Master Gojo.” He’s all quiet again, as everyone in the fucking kingdom is offended for you at this point it seemed, from the lowest servant to his attendant, to his damn mother.

“I appreciate your thoughts, I’m sorry. I’m tired.” Satoru explains, and Ijichi nods, clearing his throat now.

“Shall you go to her chambers?”

“That’s what I must do.”

Satoru won’t admit he’s nervous, that his hands are sweating, walking over to your chambers now and entering them. Ijichi bows at you, while you’re sitting in front of the vanity, your attendant brushing out your hair. You look at them both in surprise, as if you didn’t expect him to come, even on your wedding night.

“My lady, congratulations on your wedding.” Ijichi says, and Satoru watches you soften, a sweet little fucking smile that he doesn’t think he’ll ever get from you, one that lights up your beautiful face and stops his heart.

“Thank you so kindly, Mr. Ijichi.” You smile again as he blushes, turning away and disappearing down one of the halls quietly, leaving Satoru with you. He inhales the sweetness of your scent, mixing with the incense you've lit, looking at the attendant then, who is blushing as well.

“You may leave,” Satoru orders Miwa out then, she curtseys and runs off, leaving you alone with a stranger, an emperor. He eyes you curiously, tilting his head as he studies your robes, light blue, your breasts exposed down the center, showcasing much of your skin. “Stand up.”

“Of course, your majesty,” his jaw tenses as you speak, as you stand slowly and his blue eyes drink the sight of you in. “Surprised you weren’t too busy to come.”

“You’re awfully angry about tea, hmm?” He steps closer now, long strides with his impossibly long legs, towering over you when he’s close, so close. You swallow nervously, but put on a brave face, a fake smile.

“Perhaps we should get on with things quickly, so we can have an heir.”

“What now?” His thin brows lower over his eyes, which narrow.

“Indeed, the quicker you put your seed in me, the quicker we can be done, at least one would look good for the kingdom.” Your words fucking baffle him, when you step back, undoing the knot of your robe then.

“What are…” He trails off, blushing when you’re naked, his cheeks burning as he sees your beautiful body, the one he’d jerked off to just the fucking outline of the other day.

He doesn’t jerk off, he has women for that, but he couldn’t stop himself, cumming more in his hand from the looks of you than with any of his women. He can’t help but look at your pretty breasts, they sway just a bit as they’re released, and you shift just a bit, hands knotted together in front of you, as if you’re preparing for an inspection, seemingly calm.

“What are you going on about?” His eyes slip lower, across the soft curve of your hip and stomach, even lower, to your cunt just there tempting him between the plush of your thighs that are pressed together.

“An heir, it’ll make things easier for us both,” he chuckles then, a mean smile on those vermillion lips. “Should I prepare you, your majesty?”

Satoru’s about to fucking lose it, his fists clench at his sides, trying to look in your eyes and not those beautiful fucking tits just begging for his hands. He pulls it together, snorting as if he finds you amusing and not heartbreakingly beautiful. “As if you know what to do.”

You step closer now, hips swaying as if to torture him with each undulation, all bold just like in those baths, you’re not the shy and practiced girl, you’re not the one giggling and teasing. You’re not the girl he expected, not even fucking close, how your fingertips brush the cool silk of his robe over his overheated skin.

Satoru was used to being the one in control, just what the fuck was this, how you’re acting, what you’re doing!? He is furiously blushing now at your proximity, annoyed you have whatever odd effect this is, when you speak - “I can make this at least enjoyable for you.”

“Tch, 'you think you're adequate at it?” You smile just a bit, it’s not that cute one you gave Ijichi, it's evil and making him harder.

“I've had instructions on how to please my future husband, there are many books that show it, I was given them to read.” Satoru laughs, trying to play it off, when he undoes the tie finally, as his robes land on the floor at a pool of his feet. He’s just in a fundoshi, a thin strip of material showcasing a straining erection.

“Let's see it, then.” He says, all cocky, until you're on your fucking knees before him, slipping down his fundoshi ever so carefully like some professional. He’s sputtering, unsure what to think - maybe you've done this before, but why should that bother him!? Why does that thought make him infuriated, as you have him whimpering from your breath on his inner thigh.

You have his cock free, it is so heavy that after slapping his stomach it just hangs there, thick and already hard from just seeing you. You bite your lip as the cool stone floor hurts your knees, just a bit. You take your hand carefully, stroking him slowly, from the base where he has tufts of white hair, to his pink tip leaking milky drops, admiring the veins that wrap it.

You could swear you hear a whimper, but your heart is pounding in your ears so much it’s hard to know. You swallow nervously and put on your act, running your thumb over his tip and smiling up at the man, his entire body carved and chiseled to such perfection.

“I thought I'd have to get you in this state, how curious since I hadn’t even touched you yet? the books didn't mention it being ready…” Satoru glares now, you're insulting him without even knowing it!? You’re casually calling out his desperation for you, that he’s hard when he just sees you.

He struggles to handle your insolence, your question appears innocent but he doesn’t buy it, not with you. He entangles a hand in your hair then, pulling it firmly as you lap at his tip, almost making him cum from that, while he wraps your hair around his fist, the sight of you enough he could bust ropes all over your pretty face.

“All right, let's see what you've learned, hmm?” He taunts, but you just nod a bit, stroking him then, little hand up and down in gentle twists. He’s tense now, as it feels even better, when you suck him into your mouth, just the tip at first, swirling your tongue around it and tonguing out the salty precum. “Fuck…”

He hopes that whisper was quiet enough, as you take more of him, every inch deeper and deeper from each stroke and movement of his cock in your mouth, while you just look at him like that. Like you want to end him with your pretty eyes and demon mouth, it shouldn’t even feel this good, but his eyes roll back in his head as he fucks your hot mouth, faster and faster.

He’s gasping out, he has never felt anything better even from the most practiced girls, no you have the perfect suction, the way your tongue swirls is obscene, as he fucks your throat and feels you taking so much. He almost thinks you could fucking take it all, seeing the slobber glisten on his cock, moaning at the sight of how your eyes flutter shut when he thrusts his hips inside.

God you feel too good, you have him losing his mind with your little gasps and gags on his cock. “Slutty fucking throat,” he whispers, you pull back just a bit, glaring at him, only for him to whimper, and cry out - “You’re doing s'good, sweetheart…”

Sweetheart?

Slut?

What a conundrum of a man you think, you feel him pulsing in your mouth, but also you feel your tummy clenching, something you didn't expect. You didn’t expect to enjoy this part of sex truly, you didn’t expect to enjoy anything without love, but something about his snowy lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, about his sweet cries, it does something to you.

Your nails are pressing on his muscled thighs, leaving marks on that perfect pale skin when he rips you off him then, saliva dripping from your mouth along with his precum. You’re pulling back to sit on your heels, as he lets go of your hair, and you wipe away some of the drool that’s gathered.

“Um… was I not adequate?” You hate that you actually care if you were, but then Satoru Gojo laughs without humor, standing you up now unceremoniously.

“Not adequate?”' He is lifting you like it’s nothing, your feet dangling off the fucking floor then, when Satoru Gojo slams his lips on yours, shocking you as you cling to him tightly, not to hold him but not to fall. He’s got your thighs on his hips, as he kisses you desperately, tongue devouring your mouth, every corner of it.

You’re lost for a moment, feeling your cunt leak arousal on his tummy, as his huge hands are on your ass, squeezing while he’s tasting himself on your lips. You’re kissing him back without fully realizing it, maybe it’s the surprise, maybe it’s something more that you don’t want to think of, and you get no chance to, when he’s carrying you across the room.

You find yourself thrown right on your enormous bed, decorated in more blues, the color of the Gojo clan, the colors of his eyes - some of them at least, for when he’s hovering over you, saliva string dissipating between your mouths, they’re some dark shade you can’t fathom. His pupils are so blown out it seems like they’re black, his breaths heavy and loud in your ears.

You didn’t think he’d kiss you.

Satoru Gojo’s elegant long fingers slip down your body as he feels it tremble, slipping down further, until his fingers find your slick cunt then. You gasp at the sensation of it, the delicious swipe right up and down, as his plump lips kiss down one of the soft globes of your breasts, sucking a nipple in his mouth. You’re biting back your own moan as he toys with your clit, it twitches under his touch.

“Soaking wet, from sucking my cock, slutty.” He taunts, dangerous voice, even while he’s rutting his cock on the silk blankets, sucking on another pretty nipple as you cry out. The sounds of you end him.

“Y-your majesty, you don't need to do all of that,” you tug at his hair, pulling him off, closing your thighs on his hand now, just trapping him as if he won’t keep rolling those circles. “Ah! Just... get it done, okay?”

You can’t like this.

You can’t betray the memory. And for what, a man who’s doing what he must do tonight, then will run to his favorites? You can’t.

Your words make the emperor pause, looking up and seeing you then, your plump lips are swollen from his kisses, your skin flushed, eyes glittering as your breaths come quicker and quicker. He stops his fingers for a moment, god he’s dying to be inside of you, he wants your cunt to know the shape of him, fuck only him, a maddening thought raging with another.

Your words to get it done, they make sense, they were what he was going to do, until you stunned him again. His eyes trail across your face, seeing the apprehension mixed with clear desire, before trailing down your body ever so slowly. All of the concubines wanted Satoru, all of the women he’s ever been with have begged for him, and here you were, 'doing your duty'.

Something gnaws at him, he leans up and pulls his fingers off, as you look at him curiously, blinking rapidly as if to right yourself. “Do I need to suck you more?” You ask softly, and he shakes his head, clearing his throat then, as he sees the confusion making your brows knit together.

“No, you don’t need to suck me more, you sure liked it hmm?”

“Um, I could just touch you?” He grips your wrist as you try to do so, trailing a hand down his hard abdomen, pinning it before it touches his cock, aching to bury itself inside you.

“Tonight, we will not consummate the marriage.”

The words hurt you deeply, the sense of rejection making your throat close up, you have to at least fulfill your duty here, it’s all you’ve ever even been trained for, and he’s shutting it down.

“Oh, um… did I displease you?” Your voice isn’t confident like earlier, no it’s shy and unsure, he frowns a bit, wondering what the layers of you would be like, to peel them off slowly like your robes.

The thought of a woman not wanting him, especially you, infuriates him. “No, you did not displease me, foolish girl.”

You glare at that, how foolish you are he thinks to himself, do you not see how clearly he desires you, how much he was affected by your naked form, what your moth did to him? He picks you up by your hips, and shoves you up the bed then, making you blink in confusion at the change. “Emperor…”

“So formal, naked in front of me, after I fucked your throat?” He taunts in a whisper, kissing down your tummy with hot brushes of his mouth on your skin. He watches it tense as he dreams of making it bulge with his cock, seeing you tremble under his caress. “Answer me.”

“Fine, Gojo then,” you manage, it’s not as if it’s his first name after all. You’re trying not to cry out as his hands press into your hips, but you fail, head sinking back into the soft satin of the sky blue pillows under your head.

“Are you untouched?” His words earn another blush, averting your eyes from the man settling between your thighs now, thighs that tense on either side as he shoves them apart with his shoulders. “Can’t use your words?”

“I have not lain with a man, no, but I am not untouched.” Satoru's furious that anyone saw your pretty body, but he makes no comment at your honest answer.

Truly, he absolutely hates tradition and wouldn't care if you were or were not a virgin, in fact he prefers experience with his women, but for some fucking reason that thought irritates him, to picture you cumming for someone. Did you smile at them pretty and sweet, or the cruel little sexy look you gave him instead?

Did they drink your cunt, like he’s dying to at this moment? When he sees your pretty pussy, glistening and soaked, he moans softly. He parts your puffy lips then, as you bite your lower lip nervously, thighs trembling on either side of his head, while your slick pools from your little hole. He’s marveling at how wet it is, while his breath ghosts over it, making you jerk.

“Y-your majesty, that's not - ah- in the books!? Mnh what are you - oh!” You’re lost for words, when Gojo has his tongue slipping up your slit, hot and wet lapping a stripe right up it. You’ve never felt something like that, fingers felt great but what the fuck was his demonic tongue delving between your folds? “What are you doing!?”

He’s smirking against your cunt at your cute, cut off little question, seeing your mouth is wide in a slutty O, fuck you’re pretty. “Not everything is in your books, sweetheart,” he teases softly, and he laps up your slit again, making you whine out loud this time, your little fingers are gripping his shoulders, your nails pressing in and just making him harder.

“You’re… doing…” You’re done with speech apparently, not when Satoru’s lapping the juices pouring from your hole, his nose bumping your clit, your hands pressing deeper, feeling the muscles of his biceps as your breaths come quicker and quicker, desire washing over you. “You don’t have to do that!?”

“I'll have you cum on my face tonight,” his words are now muffled as he buries his face in your sweetness, letting the juices drown him and the heady desire consume him, pressing his cock on that mattress and almost cumming from it. “Over and over.”

He’s whispered those last words against your cunt, you’re lost in the sensations then, crying out in desperate little sobs as he works your body. He feels you tense, feels your cunt pulsing around his tongue when he fucks into your gummy walls that grip him so fucking good. He shoves your thighs apart further, dragging you impossibly closer to his face.

You're lost in how good it feels, no longer pulling him off, but tugging him closer without realizing it, pleasure overtaking your mind as your cries mix with his filthy suction, drinking all the liquid just fucking pouring. He’s moaning and rutting his cock, blue eyes looking up between the valley of your breasts, and it’s too intimate, it’s too fucking much.

You've cum before with your lover, but never have you done this, this intimacy of his mouth on you. You’ve never felt this, so intense, so much pressure in your tummy just building, the heat spreading throughout your body further with every vibration of his mouth on you, sending you closer to the edge.

You're screaming out, hips arching as he makes filthy sounds with your squelching cunt, he’s so close to cumming from just this, lost in every sensation of your body. Fuck, he's never enjoyed this so much, and he loves to please - but never was he about to bust his seed all over blankets while he fucking did it, and god he can't help but pay attention to every little thing.

Every movement, every twitch, every pretty cry while your hips arch up for more, until you’re using him, until you’re riding his face so sexy, he doesn’t think you know you are, but he’s fucking you deeper with his tongue. You yank on his hair, as if to tug him off, earning his chuckle as he just clamps down then, sucking your twitchy little clit into his mouth.

That’s when it’s too fucking much.

“Ah!” You’re screaming out, shameless now, while he lavishes every part of your cunt with his tongue, you swear nothing is fucking left unexplored, and now your clit, so sensitive, so stimulated. “Sensitive - mnh!”

“Good,” he’s smirking with his chin coated in you, sucking your clit into his mouth again as you’re screaming out for him. God, he wants you to call him Satoru, he can't say it though, that’s madness. Your cunt is madness, in how he wants to drown in it, how he wants your thighs to suffocate him. “Cum. Now.”

He devours devours your pussy after his clear fucking order, Tongue flicking on your clit as he hums on it, teeth just barely grazing it until you shatter for him. There are no words, just filthy, messy sounds, slurping and squishing echoing in your brand new chambers, while you cum all over your new husband's face, and fuck if you’ve never felt anything like it.

Your eyes are rolled back in your skull, shaking violently as the waves just rush through you, brain short circuiting with how much pleasure he’s rushed through you with his wicked mouth. You're shaking as you come down, as the orgasm leaves aftershocks, pulsing around nothing at all, craving things you shouldn’t, wanting impossibly more.

The pleasure is so intense you’re dizzy, barely able to fucking see, as you’re trying to gain your senses, orient yourself, looking down as Satoru presses one more kiss on your pretty cunt. He’s leaning up then, smirking down at you, pressing a kiss to your lips, when you taste yourself you're a blushing mess.

“You’re yummy, aren’t you? Do you like tasting it?” His voice is husky, his heavy cock brushing your thigh, hot and twitchy, leaking that sticky substance as you’re struggling to form a fucking word.

“I… you… we…” He’s chuckling, you’d scowl at his audacity, but your brain is altogether too fucked out.

“All that talk, all those books you read, it’s cute,” he brushes your hair back and smirks. “But I don't think you're ready f'me yet, sweetheart.”

You’re opening your mouth to say anything, trying to catch your breath as he stands up, bending down to snatch up his robe, lazily tying it over his body as if he’s casually chatting, not fucking your brain up. You sit up and look at him then, at the man you barely know, his eyes linger across your body as he swipes his chin, and you see it’s glistening, coated with your slick.

“You’re messy, tsk.” He smirks again, you’d like to smack that smirk off his face if you could form a thought!? You finally tug the blanket over you, he chuckles, murmuring - cute - like you’re amusing to him then.

“So where will you go, Emperor Gojo, will you go to your concubines to cum?' he chuckles then again, fucking infuriating. He leans down low, tilting your chin up as you look at him.

“Maybe I will, would that bother you, sweetheart?” You shake your head, it can't bother you, and you won’t fucking let it. No way, this will be your life now, you can’t let one interaction distract you, make you forget everything.

“Why would I care, you’ll be doing that all of our marriage, won’t you?” Your question makes him tense. “If roles were reversed, would you care?”

“What nonsense is that?” He’s scowling, and your mean little smile is back, he’d have to fuck that look off you one day.

“It would not bother me, it’s expected.”

“Ah,” he shakes his head, caressing your cheek almost tenderly, you feel foolish fucking thinking it. “You're not the best liar, that won't help you play the court, you know, you’ll have to get a better poker face.”

The mother fucker turns and walks away then, leaving you alone after he’d just licked your cunt, every inch to be precise, after he’d kissed you, looked at you in ways that bother you. The guilt sets in, hot and heavy, you’re crying for the first time in so fucking long, remembering your other vows, the ones that you promised to Suguru.

And now these are your fucking vows.

Just who was Satoru Gojo, and did you care more than you’d like to? No way, you shake that off, trying to process just what the fuck happened, as you tug at the pillows and sob into them. You miss home, you miss Suguru, and now instead of consummating it, you could handle that, you did something worse.

You enjoyed it all.

*****

Satoru doesn't go to his concubines that night, sure he let you think that, but how the fuck could he after he'd just tasted the sweetest nectar that exists right from your cunt? When he'd had your throat constricting his cock, those eyes looking up at him under those lashes?

How could he go try and be with one of them when he just wants to go back in there and sink inside your perfect cunt? Wreck your thoughts of him, rearrange your brain and your guts with his cock? Show you things you never did with whoever was on your mind, make sure you'd only think of him.

He held back for two reasons, one, you were fucking him for duty. Something about it just felt wrong, as a man who hates tradition and duty, but also as a man who needs to be desired in all aspects. The slight fear and nerves in your eyes were enough to make him realize he can't do his ‘duty’ like this, not this way.

He's throbbing when he's back in his chambers, staring at the high ceilings and intricate patterns along it, taking several breaths. He shuts his eyes and all he can see is you lying under him, he can still feel your sticky wetness on his fingers, taste you on his tongue.

He quickly stomps in long strides to grab a caffer of wine, pouring it into one of the silver goblets on his elaborately carved wood night stand. He downs it as quick as he can, hoping he can get drunk enough to sleep after that, to not run back in your room and take you for the first time, fuck he'd take you in every way.

He's soon grabbing his cock, he could have let you suck him off, but something about that when you didn't truly want to, just using knowledge from books, also made him feel wrong to do so. Instead, he could have any girl in the fucking palace please him, but he's stroking his cock like a boy in leading strings, not like the Emperor Gojo at all.

He's laying back on his bed, the overhanging curtains around the four posts closed as if he could hide from even himself what he's doing, stroking his sensitive cock and picturing only one person. Maddening, insanity, he doesn't want a wife, you don't want a husband, but all he can see is how your tits jiggle, while you jerked in his hold, while you whined out and gasped.

He can feel the sting of you yanking his locks as his hand strokes his cock up and down, achingly slow, a maddening pace. He's whimpering again, just like you made him do with your damn demon mouth. Maybe you're some witch, to have him stroking his veiny length, spitting on his cock and wishing it was your juices making him slick instead.

As he jerks himself, touching his tip, he leans back against the giant wood headboard, crying out your name before he can stop himself. Cheeks flush, lashes flutter, while his cock is twitching in his hand, the sounds lewd in his empty chambers, just breathy cries, whispers, and the sound of his hand moving up and down his glistening cock.

He finally cums, cursing and moaning - ‘f-fuuckk’ - while his cum pours all over his hand, an embarrassing amount that he'd like to explain away as not having cum today, as being edged by your throat, but the sight of so much milky seed all over his hand says much more than he'll admit. He's never seen so much, still pulsing out of his pretty pink tip.

“Fuck…” he quickly cleans up, stripping down to nothing and staring at the looking glass in his room. He's got a thin sheen of sweat on his skin, shaking his head as he looks at his own dilated eyes, wondering…

Just who is his new bride?

Well this is gonna be longer than I thought lol! Hope you all enjoyed <3

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[graythecoffeebean]

Oh, Suguru doesn’t let you sulk. Not for long, especially when you start tearing yourself apart.

You're standing in front of the full-length mirror, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, breathing sharp through your nose as you mutter under your breath about how nothing fits right, how everything feels off. Your shirt’s halfway over your head again, what is this, the fourth outfit? Fifth? You don’t even know anymore. And behind you, on the edge of the bed, Suguru’s been watching the whole thing unfold with quiet amusement. One leg crossed over the other, hair slightly damn still as it cascades down his shoulders, sleeves rolled up. Patient. Calm. Gorgeous.

You glance at him, lips pushed out in a frustrated pout, and ask without really asking, “Can I just wear one of your shirts?”

You think he’ll say yes. He usually does.

But not tonight.

Instead, you hear the soft rustle of fabric as he rises from the bed, footsteps slow as he comes up behind you. You barely register the way he slides one arm around your waist, the other drifting up to brush your hair aside. He leans in close - so close you can feel the warmth of his breath against your neck, the low, velvet murmur of his voice sliding down your spine.

“Why would I do that,” he whispers, lips grazing your cheek, violet eyes meeting yours in the mirror, “when you look so damn pretty like this?”

You try to scoff. Try to brush it off like you always do. But then he holds your gaze in the mirror. And something about the way he’s looking at you - lazy-lidded, smiling faintly - makes your throat go a little tight.

“I mean it,” he says, voice all honey and heat, hands trailing down the curve of your hips. “You know I do. So how about you tell yourself, huh? For me.”

Your eyes flicker down. You mumble, just under your breath.

He chuckles softly, chin resting on your shoulder now, eyes locked with yours in the mirror. “Not good enough, baby. You know better than that.” His voice dips lower. “Come on, pretty girl. Say it like you mean it. Look at her,” he murmurs, gesturing to your reflection with the tilt of his head. “She deserves to hear it.”

You try again. Louder. Still awkward and even a little shaky.

But he’s nodding, lips curling in satisfaction. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs. “Again.”

His hands slide across your stomach now, slow and purposeful, thumbs brushing that soft part he always lingers on. “Love this body,” he says. “Love this girl. Mine.”

Your smile creeps in slowly, until, he tickles your sides out of nowhere.

“Wish my pretty girl would love herself a little more,” he says through your squeals and laughter, his arms wrapping tight around you to keep you from escaping. “Think you can do that for me, baby?” he asks, voice right at your ear now before taking a small nip.

[graythecoffeebean]

middle school sweethearts! megumi f. × fem!reader

an: since this is a middle school au, megumi and reader are both around 10-12. thought i should let that be known, i guess. incase it wasn't obvious.

“ew, get off of her!” megumi would scowl, disgruntled as he shoved yet another boy off of you— he was dangling a worm infront your face from one of the flower beds. overdramatic as ever, the boy would fall to the ground, scraping his knee.

“what's your deal, fushiguro?!” the boy huffed out in annoyance, teeth gritted, worm somewhere unknown. meanwhile, you were dusting off your dress with a small frown etched onto your lips. megumi couldn't help but notice, stepping between you and the unknown boy. “scram, loser. what's your deal, huh?” he scoffed, big blue eyes narrowing into a small glare as he 'shielded' you from the boy.

“megumi, i'm fine.” you sighed exasperatedly from behind him, gently placing your hand on his shoulder, lips curled into a small pout before protesting— as always. “you don't always have to do that, i can handle myself, y'know.”

megumi's shoulders would fall lax at your soft touch, letting out a sharp breath he didn't know he was holding. both of you were stubborn, and he knew he'd never stop trying to protect you. “you're being silly. just let me help you for once.”

“it wasn't a big deal, it was just a worm.” you retorted, brows furrowing in childish manner as your arms folded across your chest, small splotches of dirt smudged onto your frilly dress. it was new too, your mother was going to throw a fit.

“whatever..” megumi scoffed incredulously, his lips almost twitching into a small pout as he tilted his head over his shoulder to peer at you through the corner of his eyes. “you could atleast be greatful..” at this point, the boy that who was on the ground had scampered away, probably to tell a teacher that megumi pushed him— not like he cared, anyway. he was much more focused on you.

“i am greatful,” you huffed, your voice softening ever so slightly, frown softening into an equally as childish pout as your best friend's. “but you're gonna scare everybody off if you keep being so mean.”

“not that it matters..” megumi groaned at your scolding, rolling his eyes as he turned to face you, your hand still gently lingering on his shoulder. “you have me. that's good enough, right?”

“...yeah, i guess it is.” you sighed in defeat.

[graythecoffeebean]

unofficialbf!megumi fushiguro who’s so soft for you (even in public)

pairing: megumi fushiguro x gn!reader tags: fluff | 1k words | high school vibes

inspo from @xoxojisu

It wasn’t a secret that Megumi Fushiguro was quiet. Stoic. The kind of boy who kept his head down, hands shoved in his pockets, dark hair falling into his eyes like he wanted to disappear.

But if you looked closely, you’d see the way he always found his way to your side. How he shifted his weight so you had enough space in crowded hallways, how his hand would brush yours, casual but deliberate, like he was always making sure you were there.

Today was no different. You were out with Yuji and Nobara, wandering through the shopping arcade near Jujutsu High. Yuji was rambling about some new manga he’d found, and Nobara was already half-dragging you into the next store, bright-eyed and loud. And Megumi… well, he was just there, quietly at your back, one hand in his jacket pocket and the other hanging by his side.

But his eyes were always on you.

“Are you listening, Megumi?” Nobara teased, smacking his arm lightly. “Or are you too busy mooning over your—” she shot you a knowing grin—“special friend here?”

Megumi’s ears went pink. “Shut up,” he muttered, though his voice lacked any real heat. His eyes flicked to you, just for a second. You grinned back, bumping your shoulder into his.

Yuji laughed. “C’mon, man, you’re not fooling anyone. You’re always looking at them like—like you’re about to jump in front of a bus if it meant they’d be okay.”

You snorted at that, but Megumi just rolled his eyes, sighing like he couldn’t be bothered to argue. That was the thing about him—he’d never say much, but his actions always spoke for him. The way he moved closer when the crowd got too thick, the way he gently nudged Nobara’s shopping bags out of your hands before you could even protest.

“You know, you don’t have to do that,” you said softly, watching as he took the heaviest of Nobara’s shopping bags and slung them over his arm.

“It’s fine,” he said, his voice even. “You’re tired.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Am I?”

He glanced at you again, and there was something there—something soft and careful. “Yeah,” he said finally. “You get tired easy.”

And that was Megumi. Never flowery or overly sweet, but so attuned to you it almost hurt. You reached out, your pinkie hooking around his for a second. Just a brush of skin, quick and fleeting. But he didn’t flinch away. He never did, not with you.

When you stopped to grab bubble tea, Nobara was already snapping selfies with Yuji, laughing as she teased him about his messy hair. You stepped back, letting them bicker, and Megumi shifted so he was standing just behind you, his hand ghosting at your waist like it was instinct.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, so only you could hear.

You tilted your head, smiling. “I’m fine.”

He looked at you, like he was trying to see past the words. “You sure?”

And that was the thing—no matter how many times you said you were fine, he always checked. Always.

“Yeah,” you said again, softer this time. “Thanks, Megumi.”

He looked away, his jaw tight like he was trying to hide the way your words affected him. But you saw the faintest smile at the corner of his mouth.

It wasn’t much, but it was everything.

When the four of you finally settled on a bench near the edge of the plaza, you found yourself next to Megumi again. Nobara was busy scrolling through her phone, and Yuji was telling some dramatic story about his last mission, hands flailing as he talked. Megumi sat still, his thigh pressed against yours, his arm slung casually over the back of the bench. Like he wasn’t even aware he was touching you. Like he was always supposed to be there.

“You’re quiet today,” you teased, nudging him lightly.

He made a face. “I’m always quiet.”

You huffed a laugh. “True.”

But he turned to look at you then, really look at you, his dark eyes soft in a way that made your chest ache. “You’re not… overwhelmed, right?” he asked. “Being out here with everyone?”

You shook your head, touched that he was even worried. “I’m fine. I like being with you guys.”

He hummed low in his throat, like he didn’t quite believe you but didn’t want to push. His hand dropped from the back of the bench to your shoulder, fingers curling there, warm and steady.

“You’d tell me if you weren’t okay?” he asked, voice low.

You nodded, smiling up at him. “Yeah. I promise.”

He didn’t say anything, but his thumb brushed lightly against the side of your neck, and you knew he understood. That was enough for him.

Nobara glanced over then, smirking. “You two are gross,” she said lightly. “You’re not even official and you’re already acting like an old married couple.”

Yuji laughed, eyes bright. “Right? It’s kinda cute, though.”

You rolled your eyes, but Megumi just sighed, his fingers squeezing your shoulder gently. “Ignore them,” he murmured, almost too quiet to hear. But his hand never left your shoulder.

The four of you spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around—Nobara pulling you into every other store, Yuji treating you all to snacks, Megumi… just being there. Watching, quiet, but always close enough that his hand would brush yours when you reached for something. Always the first to notice when you looked tired, or when the crowd got too loud.

And even though he never said it outright, it was there in the way he moved. In the way he’d let his fingers hook into your sleeve, tugging you just a little closer. In the way he’d lean down so his voice was only for you, soft and steady.

“Let’s head back soon,” he said finally, his voice low, meant for you alone. “You look like you’re done for the day.”

You blinked up at him, surprised. “You sure?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’d rather be somewhere quieter with you, anyway.”

And that was Megumi—your unofficial boyfriend who’d never admit how much he liked having you close, but showed it in every quiet touch, every soft word. Even in public, where he’d keep you at his side like he was afraid you might slip away.

You leaned into him, letting his arm settle around your shoulders, and he didn’t even pretend to be annoyed.

“Just friends,” Nobara teased again as you started walking back toward the dorms.

Megumi’s ears turned pink, but his hand stayed steady at your waist. “Shut up,” he said softly. But he didn’t let go.

And you didn’t need him to say anything else. Because you already knew—words or not, Megumi was yours. And in the quiet of his careful touches, he made sure you knew you were his, too.

[graythecoffeebean]

salted caramel + coffee jelly + 💌🐇🧁

₊˚⊹♡ angered affection

zyx's boba matchup event: open here!

"me-" kiss! "-gu-" kiss! "-mi!" kiss!

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI's collar was in your firm grip, yanking it back and forth as you slammed an aggressive kiss in face for every syllable.

"how dare you leave for a mission without saying goodbye. how dare you."

you moved your hands around his neck instead, a position that could effectively choke him had you the strength.

if he wanted to, megumi could very easily break from your hold, but who knows? perhaps he enjoyed being scolded by you.

"it was a short one, [name]," he said, trying to justify. his arms loosely wrapped around your waist, earning another aggressive kiss-slam from you.

"i missed you. something could have happened to you. i'm kissing you right now because i'm relieved, but i'm really, really angry."

megumi found that quite hard to believe, with how cutely your face was scrunched up. if your way of being really, really angry comprised of all this, then maybe he should enrage you more often.

"it was the safest mission that i could possibly have been assigned," he continued, brushing his nose against yours. "i don't even know if it counts as a mission to begin with."

"i. don't. CARE!" you yelled, this time hitting his forehead with yours for every word.

he pulled you in a hug, your head nestled into his neck, effectively restraining you from further violence. "i liked the kissing better," he teased.

you were silent, still upset. sensing your unease, he tightened the hug.

"from now on, i promise not to go off anywhere without informing you of my coordinates. okay?"

you pinched his hip, making him jump back with a yelp. "good. now come treat me to some ice cream."

he took your hand, leading you to the street. coddling you was quite enjoyable.

[graythecoffeebean]

Type Dangerous - R.S.

Synopsis. Five times Ryomen Sukuna’s “wingmanning” family is the biggest cóckbIock in existence, and the one time he finally gets what he wants - you, his nephew’s hot preschool teacher.

Pairing. Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!teacher!reader, 5 + 1 things, Itadori family shenanigans, unckuna, he has the BIGGEST crush on you, making him blush, face-ríding, síxty-nine, Sukuna with tattoos, PÚSSYDRÚNK Sukuna, he goes feraI, p sIapping, p talking, he’s BIG, chokíng, tummy buIges, manhandIing, dúmbifícation, creampíes, through pantíes, cúmplay, slight bréeding, getting together, nosy families, lowkey crackfic, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 12.6k

A/N. HEHE TOLD Y’ALL I’D WRITE IT…

“This is my uncle, he just got out of jail.”

“Hell yeah.” Not the most courteous introduction to Yuji’s wide-eyed lil’ friends - but if Jin had bugged n’ blackmailed him into picking the brat up from preschool today then he was going to make sure it never happens again.

And as Yuji starts swinging from Sukuna’s broad, beefy biceps, he grins at his miniature crowd. “He also has tattoos and likes to drink.”

“Hell yeah- don’t forget about the cars, twerp.” Sukuna’s nodding, breezing past the horrified faces of parents that tugged their children at least seven feet away. Seriously, how long was this teacher going to take? He could see your back hunched by another corner of the classroom, hugging a sniffly student goodbye.

“Oh yeah- and he likes driving fast and slashing tires.”

You straighten, probably hearing every word - not that he cared, Sukuna couldn’t imagine who’d want to be around this all day. “Hell ye- oh.”

Until you turned his way.

And Ryomen Sukuna feels his heart drop- right along with the muscular right arm that was stuck out for Yuji to climb all over like a handlebar. And with it, his nephew. 

Who seems quite disgruntled at his sudden meeting with the soft, padded floor of the preschool classroom, standing on his own two feet for the first time since Sukuna had arrived here. He furrows his light brows, “Hey- wha’s the big- oh! Teacher!”

Seems like it runs in the family, Sukuna muses - because all it takes is one glimpse of you starting to head their way before Yuji lights up as brightly as the Sun itself. And to Sukuna, whose nephew was a perpetual Christmas tree, it almost made him wish he wore his usual shades.

At least that would’ve hid the way his crimson eyes sweep up n’ down your figure, languidly. Breath stuttered, mouth partly agape. 

Sukuna’s utterly forgetting himself before he’s called out by one of Yuji’s friends- a squeaky, orange-haired girl no older than five. “Ewwww- why are you red?”

“Shut it, bob-cut.”

“So—” Perfect timing, you sidle up to the bustling little group right as Sukuna spits out the tail end of his sentence. A brow of yours raised, bob-cut? 

And oh- you’re even more perfect up close. Is it really too late for him to enroll in preschool? He didn’t see any age restrictions around, and he could count till ten, surely. Genuinely considering, he’s gulping at the way your pretty eyes narrow. “Jin’s not here today? Yuji, do you know this man?”

The boy in question bounces with excitement, “Of course! This is Sukuna, my uncle who just got out of jail and drives fast cars.”

“Ah- ahah.” Said Sukuna chuckles gingerly, eyes flitting between his beaming nephew and your blank expression. Finally settling on the kid, “Yuji! What have I told you about uh- the benefits of um- safe driving and caring for our fellow civilians on the road?”

And there was Sukuna’s first mistake - asking a question, because surely that was a sign for Yuji to nod solemnly. “That it’s for lame pussies who- mmpf!”

“Ah…” You blink.

The damage was already done- but Sukuna’s clapping a meaty palm over Yuji’s mouth already. Oh, he was smashing this kid’s iPad when they’re home. A thin line of nervous sweat beads down his temple as he stares up at you, “K-kids these days, right, ma’am?”

Yuji frowns, “But you do call them lame pussies who-”

“Yuji!”

“Right right, miss.” The lively girl from before - Kugisaki, he thinks her name was - latches onto your swaying skirts. “And he also likes to drink.”

“And slash tires.”

“Tuna mayo.” 

The crowd mercifully quietens down for a split-second. “…”

Until a grumpy black-haired boy peeks through his bangs at that last line, as if translating. “He says he also sets fires.”

Sukuna never said that - but he doesn’t get a single chance to say so. Too busy staring at the constant knit of your brows, the way your gaze was darting from the children to Sukuna like a tennis match, trying to bite back a smile. “I-is that so?”

“And he has a lotta tattoos.” Yuji pries off his uncle’s muffling palm, back to climbing him like his very own jungle gym. As if to prove his point, he pokes the bulging band of black ink that encircles Sukuna’s bicep. “See?”

And if he was any less devastated about making himself look like an absolute fool in front of his nephew’s pretty preschool teacher, then maybe he’d have noticed that look in your eyes. 

Maybe.

Maybe he’d have seen the slight glint in them as you followed Yuji’s pudgy, directing finger - from the wide tattoos at his biceps, to his wrist, to the circles peeking through Sukuna’s off-white undershirt. So tight that it was like the pale color was nearly painted onto him- if Itadori Jin was the sweet, soft single dad that was always early for pick-up, then Sukuna was just rugged. 

From the dishevelled state of his twinning rosy hair, to the studded piercing on his left earlobe, to the naturally-honed muscles that made him look hulking.

And it almost seemed like you were…checking him out? But surely that was a figment of Sukuna’s imagination, right? Right?

You’re nodding as Yuji looks to you impatiently for approval, “Why, you’re quite right, Yuji.” The corners of your glossed lips curl upwards as you turn to Sukuna - and he feels electricity pang down his body. “Uncles these days, huh?”

Ah, he was gone for. 

It was almost a comical sight, you’re thinking - such a large, towering man well over six feet, speechlessly gawking at you. Leaned forwards, ears red; barely even registering the way his nephew grabs onto the tufts of his coral pink hair like a horse- whispering for the rest of his friends to join in.

Kugisaki makes two treks grabbing onto his sides before she’s looking up and crinkling her nose, “Ew. You’re red again, Mr. Felon.”

“He’s not Mr. Felon, he’s Mr. Tire-slasher.”

Yuji shakes his head, “No, he’s Mr. Mugshot.” Seated upon Sukuna’s broad shoulders, the boy adjusts his body to stick a hand inside his backpack and search. “Would you like to see the mugshot, miss-”

“Okay, time for us to get home.” 

Firmly, Sukuna tries to shoo away the army of toddlers trying to climb him as gently as possible - only four glares, now that’s a record. Nephew still on his back, bag now wrestled into his hand and well away from where Yuji could procure any printouts of his (admittedly flattering) mugshot. 

He’s feeling his heartbeat pick up just a lil’ as he darts his eyes back to you, “I-it was just probation, by the way. Happened to slash some uh- tires…” 

“And also drive fast!” Yuji pipes up happily.

“…That too.” Grouchy face wincing at the amused smile on your face- goddammit he’s never going to be able to show his face here ever again. Sukuna simpers out a wave, making sure to flex his chiseled biceps at you ever-so-slightly - if he couldn’t keep reputation, at least he could make you stare. “See you ‘round, teach.”

“See you around, Mr. Mugshot.”

Fuck. 

.

.

.

“I thought I said I’m not doing shit for the brat’s school again.” 

Jin patiently gestures for him to hush with the swearing in front of the gaggle of children, humming as he keeps handing out sugar cookies - half-off for dealing with Sukuna’s shoddy customer service. “Well, technically, we’re not in the preschool. We’re in the park.”

His younger brother seethes, flicking the ribbons of his pretty pink apron (Jin’s doing, of course.) “Having a damn bake sale-”

“Shush, Ryo. There are children around.”

“Exactly my point!” Was Sukuna the crazy one? He must be the crazy one. And he’s running a grumpy hand through his unruly pink locks- before remembering that one of those damn kids running around this bake sale had called him cotton-candy head and now he’s both irritated and unable to self-soothe.

It’d been Jin’s idea to drag him to the preschool bake sale, held at the nearby children’s park- something about raising money for a talent show.

Honestly, fuck talent shows. It didn’t even take two minutes surrounded by all the fanfare for him to have half the mind to eat those sweet treats himself and just leave-

“Oh hey, you’re Mr. Mugshot.” A little boy wearing a panda mask, one he’s never even seen before, points up at him and giggles as Sukuna glares. Did that nickname really spread?

He’s bending over their frilly pink stall with a damn good word or two about-

“Oh! Jin, thank you for coming.” Before he’s hearing the sound of the pearly gates of heaven, and an angel to accompany right along with it. You. Who’d silently meandered up to their cookie stand with an expression of both delight and concern. Your gorgeous mouth pursing as you stop to think, “And…Sukuna, right? Thank you, too, the children really appreciate the work you’re putting in.”

You remembered his name. He has to hold back a squeal. 

“A-ah, yeah- yeah! Of course, of course.” He’s swiftly leaning over the stall, arms crossed so that you can fully take in the way they streeetch his tight sleeveless turtleneck. 

In the faint distance - honestly, it feels like miles away - he’s hearing the panda-mask boy unsubtly whisper something to his father about how ‘Mr. Mugshot has turned red.’ 

Not! Obviously not- smooth. Ryomen Sukuna is supposed to be smooth, and he’s desperately attacking his features into something that resembles suave nonchalance. “I’m a…real philanthropic type of guy, y’know?” Cocking his head with a smug grin, “So, you come ‘round here often?”

You’re smirking, your giggle sounding like his favorite song. “Well, it is my preschool class.”

Ah, shit. His eyes widen just a fraction, right. 

Scoffing, “Tch, uh, yeah. I knew that.”

So many days spent mentally praying that yet another one of Jin’s work meetings went over time again - just so that Sukuna would have an excuse to see your pretty face. And that’s the first thing he says?

Suddenly, he’s too aware of the ogling toddlers, of the snug pink apron that he was currently donning - and the way your eyes seem to stray down to the gaudy bow settled between his pecs.

At this point, it seems even his brother takes pity on him. Adjusting his glasses with a soft chuckle, “It seems Ryo here had the greatest time at pick-up last week, he only had good things to say about you, ma’am.”

You blink in slight surprise, eyes taking in Sukuna’s large, fidgeting figure. “I’m quite flattered.”

Yes! Sukuna’s pleading eyes snap to the interested twinkle in your eyes, and then to the other man- yes, keep going!

“Of course, Yuji did tell me he was upset he didn’t get to show you his printed mugshot of him. It was all that he could-”

Fuck no! 

Catching the other’s urgent eyes, Jin sputters- “B-but- but, it was just a little vandalism, of course. Just a little ah…a little driving and- eek!” Cutting himself off promptly as soon as Sukuna steps down on Jin’s foot, syllables stumbling, looking ‘round anywhere for any distraction. “Why don’t you- ah! Why don’t you give our lovely teacher here a cookie, Sukuna. Free of charge.” 

You’re waving your hands, oh-so-sweetly, “I could never, please let me pay-”

“Nah, a pretty girl like you? I should give you more, ma.” He could give you a totally different type of cookie but this might just not be the place to say those words out loud- ah, he’s still got it. 

Sukuna’s thumbing out the biggest baked treat between a fluffy tissue and handing it over to you- ready to feel the sweet, sweet graze of your fingertips, if he was lucky.

But oh- it seems like the gates of heaven really have just opened up to him, because instead of taking it from his hands, you’re leaning down and taking a bite. Straight from where he held it. Humming as the candied taste floods your mouth, the soft pushness of your lips taps against the edge of his thumb.

And he wonders how they’d feel on his lips, instead. 

“Ah, sorry.” You’re taking a peek at him through your lashes and maybe he doesn’t still have it because Sukuna feels his breath hitch. “It just looked so good, and my hands are a little…”

And it’s only then that he’s noticing just how many boxes upon bags of things you’d bought from nearly every stall here. Happy to support your students - oh, you really were an angel. 

“Oh, let me.” Ever the gentleman, Jin hastens to move around a few bags so that you’re more comfortable. All while Sukuna can only hold out the cookie and freeze. Slack-jawed. 

Completely ridiculous. 

He doesn’t move a single millimeter, not even when you’re now able to easily grasp the baked good from him. Expectantly waiting, palm raised - while he only ogles you. 

“I uh- let me just-” And it takes Itadori Jin both hands to pry the crumbling cookie from Sukuna’s hands, sighing before wrapping up about two more in apology and handing them over to you. “We do hope you like them, ma’am.”

“Mhm—” Rubbing over the crumbs at the edge of your lower lip with one hand, you look dead-set on Sukuna as you murmur. “It was delicious. My compliments to the chef.”

Sukuna might not have been the chef - baker, whatever you said goes - it was Jin, but he can’t help but feel on top of the world as if he was. Waiting just until you’re out of sight, walking through the sunny Spring park up to the next parent-manned stand, to pump his fist with a low ‘hell yeah!’

“Ryo, you haven’t been this smitten since- well, ever.”

“Daddy, Mr. Mugshot is really weird.”

Sukuna whirls at a few staring parents- “The fuck are you lookin’ at?”

.

.

.

“Remind me why you’re here again?”

“Remind me why you’re here again?”

Arguing with a thirteen-year-old wasn’t very high on Sukuna’s bucket list, and yet, it seemed to happen on a nearly daily basis. He would blame middle school for being the root of Choso’s attitude, but he suspects the new emo look has something to do with it, too.

And maybe the fact that the older man was accompanying one of his weekly visits to Yuji’s preschool playground. Cutting off just the last of Friday’s classes just so that he could walk down the street to see his little brother. Despite seeing him at home every day, but still. 

That’s also what Sukuna himself was here for- of course. Why else would he-

“Ah ah- Kugisaki, what have I told you about using the toy construction hammer for things other than construction? We don’t hit, m’kay?”

Sighing, the way that Sukuna’s towering frame leans against the playground’s cherry blossom tree for support draws such disgust from Choso. Dark eyes flickering between his blushing uncle, and you - in the middle of the sand pit, trying to wrangle a class of toddlers. “You’re pathetic.”

“Shut it, scrawny.”

“Why don’t you just talk to her?”

Sukuna’s life flashes before his very eyes, and strangely it’s mainly made up of every moment where he’s embarrassed himself in front of you. Looking away with a huff, “It’s…complicated.”

The other snickers, “Well, it’s about to get a whole lot more complicated because she’s coming up to us right now.”

Oh, fuck.

Now, he might have had the sense to ‘accidentally’ bump into his oldest nephew just as he was on his route to meet Yuji (Sukuna had memorized his schedule, sauntering by this very block for an hour until he’d run into Choso) - but he didn’t have enough wit for this.

Conversations? With both parties and a classroom of preschoolers participating? 

He was just about ready to race right out of here and leave Choso to the wolves-

“Cho! You’re here as always.” You’re smiling as you waltz up to them, a neat line of toddlers following you as they would a mother duck. Hitting him with your scent of flowers n’ the sunniest of days, “And I see you’ve brought along a guest with you- how are you, Sukuna?”

“F-fine.” F-fine? With a stutter? Sukuna simply bristles at the smirk his nephew shoots his way, already feeling the tips of his pierced ears start to scald bright hot. 

“Bubba!”

Saved by the bell-like shriek of Yuji, enough to make Choso take a few steps over and hug his toddling brother so tight that the former squeals. Checking him over for scratches, dust, stickers- you name it. 

You’re catching the raise of Sukuna’s brows and chuckle, “He is always quite the attentive older brother. You should join us more often, I’m sure Yuji would enjoy having his favorite uncle around.”

Mouth dry, “I’m- I’m his only uncle.”

Yet, your grin still stands - a slight knowing curve in them that makes his brain fuzzy, and his lips just a bit too loose. Did he say he liked drinking again? What a fucking lie, you got him more buzzed than a shot of straight vodka pumping through his nerves. 

And he’s finding himself reaching over to brush a stray petal of cherry-pink from your crown. Blurting out before he can stop himself, “Hey…so what’s your ty- I mean, are you seeing any-”

“She’s mine!” Cuts off an annoying, grating voice - one that understood what you evidently didn’t, with the few syllables that Sukuna had been able to croak out.

And he’s looking over your shoulder to find himself being stared down (stared up at?) by a boisterous, buzz-cut boy slightly older than Yuji. Protectively standing behind you as he glared daggers, “When I’m old like you, she shall be my bride, Mr. Mugshot.”

Huh.

You’re droning out in your nicest tone, wagging your finger. “Now now, Todo Aoi, what have I told you about not proposing to your teachers?”

“To not.”

“And what are you doing?”

“Proposing.” Stifling a sigh, you realise that it would be yet another chat with Todo’s guardian about the boy’s harmless little puppy crush. 

But before you can direct the conversation back towards anything else, he’s stabbing an accusing index up at Sukuna’s looming frame. “Miss teacher here-” Not quite your name, but close enough. “-and my sweet idol Takada-chan are the only ones I shall marry. You can’t have either!”

“Who the hell…” Sukuna furrows his brows- what was this boy talking about? “Listen, kid, I-”

“Pffft–!” He could recognize that burst of muffled laughter anywhere, and at least Choso was having a grand ol’ time- whispering to Yuji, “Don’t you think this is like those late-night dramas dad pretends not to watch?”

No! Sukuna’s internally groaning. 

“Oh- oh yeah!” An over-hearing Kugisaki bounces at the mention of dramas, “My mommy watches those. Times like this the two guys will fight over the pretty girl.”

Todo puffs up his chest, “Then fight me, old man- I demand a duel!”

“I’m not even thirty?”

“That’s old.” Choso nods.

“You’re thirteen.”

“I’m five!” Yuji jumps up, and immediately his older brother’s pulling his phone out to snap a few hundred photographs at the cuteness. 

Todo stomps, “Fight me, fossil–”

And his young nephew - that traitor - is the next one to shrill with glee at the altercation, clapping his hands once Todo charges forward with a damn war cry to pummel Sukuna’s abs with hits about as fierce as cotton. “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

At the slight raise of your brows at the chaos, Sukuna rushes to explain, “Please excuse my nephew’s behaviour, ma’am, I don’t know where he got it from-”

Choso deadpans, “But you’re the one that taught us that the best talk is to talk with your fists because-” The two brothers turn to each other in unison, as if preaching the truth and nothing but the truth. “-we’re no weakass bi-”

“Their father.” Sukuna grits out- okay, maybe that kid’s punches were getting a little more painful. Or maybe it was just the way you were cocking your head at him that made his stomach churn, “Surely.” 

“Defend the honor of your woman, geriatric–!”

Seemingly snapping out of the little reverie of taking in whatever the fuck this was, you clap your hands in that teacherly way to demand silence. “Alright alright, break it up. You wouldn’t want me to take down any of your star points, would you, Aoi?” Tugging away the boy from Sukuna, you grimace up at him. “I’m so sorry about all of- well- this.”

Waving off- remember, Sukuna, nonchalance. Nonchalance. “Don’t worry about it, mama.”

“Y’know how they apologize to each other in the dramas?” Kugisaki speaks up, and honestly, this girl really did speak up at the most inopportune times. She glows at all the attention on her, “They kiss.”

And she was a genius.

An absolute genius, bob-cut!

Yuji - ever his lil’ ally - starts pumping his fist with whoots- “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Starting up a slight chant within your group, you turn to him in question.

“I uh…” Sukuna starts, tilting his body down ever-so-slightly, until you could could nearly every thread on his dark hoodie. The way his slashing tattoos framing his jaw ripple as he gulps, “You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, ma- that’s assuming you wanted to do something, and what I meant was-”

It was one second. A singular, heavenly second that your lips graze the right side of Sukuna’s cheek as he rambled - fluttering away right before his skin started to scorch with a blush.

Quite frankly, fuck nonchalance. 

“Ewww, he’s red again. What’s wrong with him?”

“Were you this red when you were setting fires, Mr. Mugshot?”

“He looked nothing like this in his mugshot- wanna see?”

“Salmon.”

Ears tinting a shade that matches his hair, voicebox void of any coherent words, Sukuna barely even functions until he’s hearing the sharp ka-chick! of a camera shutter. Whirling his head ‘round to find Choso with his phone pointed at him, catching him in all his flustered glory. “I’ll send it to the family groupchat.” He turns to you. “And to you on the preschool groupchat.”

Imagine Sukuna’s surprise when he finds you nodding, “Mhm, oh, and I should really be getting the kids back now, it’s almost time for the bell.” Making the kids waddle into a neat line once more, you wave. “Thank you for the visit- do come again, it was quite…interesting.”

And they stare - Choso at Yuji, Sukuna at you - as you and your classroom disappear back within the preschool walls. “No phone for you for two weeks.”

“No hot teacher’s number for you forever.”

Only after a second- “Hey- hey kid. Show me that number again? I’ll make it one week.”

.

.

.

Sukuna had almost, mercifully, forgotten about that damn talent show. 

The bake sale? Gaping at you for nearly five full minutes straight? Never happened. 

And he’d almost convinced himself of that- until the time came for him to be seated right on the very front row of the cozy preschool auditorium. Taking up nearly three chairs as he squeezes himself into the humble seat, arms crossed and scowling. 

“You know…” Jin claps as Yuji and Kugisaki fight to clamber onto stage first, with a reluctant Fushiguro in tow. About to showcase whatever it is that they’d been practising with doves and sticks all week. From the corner of his mouth, “When we had the kiddos over, Megs told me something very interesting the other day.”

“Hm.” Sukuna’s grunts noncommittally when Yuji pulls out a comically large fairy wand - ah, a magic show.

“Something about you duelling with a kid for the hand of a certain someone.”

Letting out a strangled groan, his eyes immediately find you - as they always seemed to do. Stuck on the way you were kneeled by the front of the stage, motivating each little performer tonight. “Y-ya don’t say…”

Jin beams, “You know, you should really ask her out, Ryo- oh! Do you need our help? I can tell you this, the Itadori family makes great wingmen.”

“Ya don’t say.”

Tattletale, Sukuna’s grousing. And just as Fushiguro Megumi finds himself being stuffed into a box - to be sawed in half as all good magicians did, apparently - the older man slowly, menacingly pulls out his prized camcorder. 

Just in time for Fushiguro to glance over and have his face pale at the blinking, recording lens. 

“After all, Megumi did say you were blushing like a- what was it- ‘maiden in love’ that day. How cute.” 

“Ya don’t say.” Sukuna zooms in, right on the black-haired boy’s ashen face once the saw raises high in the air to magically cut him in half. And to make things even worse, he starts pointing at his camera, mouthing through a grin, ‘Oh yes.’ At Fushiguro’s slight shake of his head. ‘You are dead.’

But, alas, it was too good to be true.

And instead of having the little snitch be the casualty in one of Yuji’s magic tricks, the talent show goes shockingly smoothly. Hell, Wasuke slept through only about half of it, which was as much of a compliment as one could get. 

All because of your efforts, surely - and when the entire thing ends with (surprise, surprise) every little brat getting awarded a winning prize, Sukuna finds himself not half-annoyed that he’d actually sat through all of it.

Well, right up until about when it was time for the exhausted preschoolers to be taken home by their families. 

And Yuji comes bounding up to the four with a squealing—“Dadda–! Bubba–! Gramps–! Mr. Mug-”

“Another word out of you and I’m throwing your iPad out the window.” Sukuna grumbles, heart leaping to his throat when he’s spotting your chuckling figure follow up behind his nephew, as if Jin’s elbowing wasn’t a sign enough.

Yuji frowns, “Aw, but I already told everyone here.”

Damn gremlin- but before he can get another word in, you’re already greeting his brother and father with a smile. “It’s so great to see you again, Mr. Itadori- I hope that blood pressure you were telling me about is better now.”

“Ah, ya know- I won’t be dying any time soon.” Wasuke barks out a hoarse noise of laughter, before beadily eyeing Sukuna. “This one, however…”

Your gorgeous face drops in worry, and he doesn’t know whether to whine at his father for letting you make that expression, or giggle because you cared about him. Fuck. “Oh no- everything alright, Sukuna?”

But Wasuke answers for him, “No. Not at all, quite the incurable disease, my dear.”

He watches on in matching confusion with Yuji as Jin lights up beside him, “Ah- ah! Right right, that-” Soothing his face into something pitiful as he turns to you, “That ah- thing that only heh- one person can solve.”

About as subtle as a sledgehammer. 

And just as efficient in bagging the woman of one’s dreams.

Because you only furrow your brows in confusion, “I’m…sorry? What?”

Sukuna’s older brother’s smile tightens in desperation, nervously laughing. “You- you know…that thing?” And you tilt your head, eyes darting between the four as if trying to work out the punchline. “The thing like- the heart condition? No- not something serious but like…the butterflies?” Now looking to Sukuna for help - as if the other man wouldn’t just let him rot in the very grave he’d dug for himself. 

Then at Choso, who’d been quietly attempting to disappear into the wall plaster. Trying not to laugh as he dotes on Yuji, “The doki-doki.”

Jin snaps his fingers, “Yes! Like the doki-doki? The-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake- he wants to fu-”

“That’s enough for tonight, pa.” It really does run in the family - because in a split-second, Sukuna has his palm clapped over Itadori Wasuke’s mouth. Smile painfully plastic, “Did you take your meds today, dear father? I don’t believe you took your meds today.”

He plunges his sprightly father into Jin’s arms, “Say, Jin, why don’t you get dad his meds.” Making note of the way that you - still thoroughly confused, and now thoroughly off your shift helping each student get to their guardian - were toyin’ with the cute decorations of your car keys. 

Letting his mouth work before his brain could regret anything- “And why don’t I walk you to your car, ma?”

“I- what.” You’re somewhat shocked at being addressed so directly, and at the kindly incline of Sukuna’s head. “Don’t you have a heart condition? I wouldn’t want to exert you, Sukuna.”

Wasuke grunts, “Exert him in another- mmpf-” Hastily shushed by Choso’s palm, more for his sanity’s sake than his uncle’s.

These damn- he narrows a glare down at an unabashedly-eavesdropping Jin and Wasuke. “No. No, don’t worry about it, they were just joking. Ha. Ha.” 

Well…it was quite dark outside the building, even with the surrounding streetlights. And your vehicle might just be a little ways away but it never hurt to be extra safe, did it? Especially when his stature was so intimidating anyways?

And so, you nod. 

And he walks with you.

More like floats beside you on cloud nine, actually. Sukuna’s sure you two made quite a sight in the corridor, if the way passing parents whispered to each other signalled anything - him, with his ears flared red, unable to even look at you directly as you two were alone. You, as perfect as ever.

“Ah- so-”

“What did you-”

You’re both speaking at the same time once you’re out of the school building, laughing into the nearly-empty night air that forms clouds out of your puffs of laughter. The few minutes of a walk to the parking lot seemed like eternity - and Sukuna would have gladly let it be. 

“You speak.” You’re urging.

“No you.”

“You-”

“I refuse.”

“Fine.” Rolling your eyes, you never noticed the way he always seemed to nudge his head ever-so-closely to you whenever you spoke. As if he was hanging onto your every word. “What did you think about the talent show?”

“Brilliant. All because of you, of course- got so much blackmail to use in ten years.” He cackles.

Though, that’s stopped short very soon the nanosecond you’re nudging him playfully. Heat touching heat. And he shivers, “Hit me if this is strange.” Letting the tense air clog his throat, at least, that’s his excuse for it. “But do you remember that thing I meant to ask you that one time at the playground…”

“Yes—?”

“Are you-” Sukuna’s husky baritone cracks and he twists his face into a wince, “D-do you happen to be seeing anyone?”

You blink, and there’s something about the way you look at him that makes him feel like you’re holding back such a smile. How he wished to see it right now. Musing into the silent night air, only thrumming with your footsteps towards the car, “Nope.”

“O-oh.” And if this was any other time, then he’d be embarrassed about how obviously relieved he sounds. How you surely must have picked up on it.

Faking nonchalance, he’s stuffing his hand into the baggy cloth of his ripped jeans, “Cool.” And it was a damn good thing you didn’t have x-ray vision like all the heroes in all those weekend cartoons Yuji watched - because then you’d have seen the way his painted nails dig in so deeply into his palms in pure excitement. Nearly hard enough to draw blood. “Very cool.”

“Very cool.” You’re echoing, now stood by the driver’s seat of your car - just waiting for him to say something. Anything. 

Waiting as he opens his mouth- “What’s your ty-”

“Yuji- Yuji noooo- don’t interrupt your uncle’s k-drama moment- oh, dammit.” Itadori Jin, who’d been chasing after an adventure-hungry Yuji, balks at the way you were both so close. Snatching up his struggling toddler, “Forget about me! We- we never here- go back to doing whatever you were doing!”

And somehow, you lurch apart as if you’d just been shocked. Only now realizing just how warm the temperature of his proximity was, fighting to keep your professional façade in front of your spying audience. 

“I bid you goodnight, Jin- Yuji.” Gesturing out a wave, you’re getting into your ride so quickly that Sukuna thinks he must’ve been dreaming you up. “And you, Sukuna.”

Nevermind- not a dream. 

Definitely not a dream. Because even in his sweetest hallucinations he wouldn’t have been able to make you say his name like that. Almost a purr. Almost batting your lashes.

Almost ripping out his heart from his very chest as you then speed down the road.

“That’s the best ya could’ve done, sonny? Even after I taught you everything to know about wooing a woman?” How very much like Wasuke to manifest from nearly thin air, from somewhere out of the shadows of the building. 

“Not that.” 

“Especially that.”

The older man only waves off Jin’s bemoaning concern about ‘ruining the moment- they had a doki-doki moment!’ “Choso’s in the car, can’t believe I lost a bet to a middle-schooler. Dammit.”

Sukuna’s eyes widen, “You…bet on me?”

“Whaddaya think, sonny?” 

Jin smiles, “Guilty.”

“Gwuilty!” 

“No- no, Yuji, not guilty.”

Wasuke paces away, shaking his head. “Thought I raised you better- keh! Thought I’d get grandchildren from you, too. Tch, now I owe a middle-schooler fifty yen, oh, woe is me.”

It takes a second for Sukuna to register the words, “Wait- only fifty yen?”

“Yeah, that’s just about my belief in you, kid.”

.

.

.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! 

“Oi- oi, Jin. Go get the door.”

“I’m cooking dinner–! Cho, could you get the door?”

“I’m in the middle of homework- ask uncle.”

Sukuna grumbles, why the hell was he the one to always answer that damn door? Honestly, Yuji could buck up and get some experience yelling at sleazy salesmen sometimes. Sprawled out across the TV room couch, he stares at his nephew playing with a toy bow and arrows set on the floor, “Yuji, could you get the-”

“I can hear you, Ryo.”

Dammit- there was a reason why Itadori Jin was the older brother. 

And there was also a reason why Ryomen Sukuna had a reputation in this quaint neighborhood for being a boor - not that that was much of a brag. But at least it explained why he was stomping up to the oak front door, damn near ripping it off its hinges with a growl- “We’re not buying any- oh.”

‘Oh’ was right.

Because standing right there on his porch was a damn sight for sore eyes - you. 

You, with your mouth parted and your brows slightly raised as you looked from the messy bangs of his locks to the oversized sweater he was wearing. You, who doesn’t even flinch about the fact that he’d just answered the door yelling. You, donned in a pretty lil’ skirt that makes him gulp- 

“You okay, Sukuna?”

“No. So how are you doin’ on this fine day, ma? ”

“Oh!” A happy call of your name makes you turn - even though Sukuna just stares, shell-shocked. Jin shoves him bodily out of the way, opening the door wider, “Please- come in, we’ve been expecting you.”

Looking down at the slight stain of something at the hem of his sweatpants, the other man frowns. It’s not like that was news he’d ever forget - so why the hell was he looking like that? “We have?”

“Yes?” Jin’s showing you the way in- only for you to be dragged in by an overeager Yuji anyways. And as the two of you disappear down the halls, he’s turning to his taller brother in genuine confusion. “Did Cho not tell you that we were having Yuji’s teacher over for dinner tonight?”

At Sukuna’s sputtering, Jin wastes no time grasping a nearby broomstick and thumping the wooden end up against the ceiling. “Kamo Choso–!”

And out comes a muffled reply, “I told grandpa to tell him!”

“Haaah? I told Yuji to.”

It sinks in. The fact that you were here, all prettily dolled-up and at their family home - and you’d happened to see him in nothing but a stained, ratty sweatshirt and pants torn down the side of his thigh to show off one tattoo. 

Jin grimaces, “Um…we can still wingman our way through this?”

“I’m gonna kill you.”

Murder does not, in fact, come before dinner; as all good manners dictate. And Sukuna decides that revenge can wait after he’s totally, completely, utterly made you swoon.

“S-so-” Only after a quick change into his best tightly-fitted turtleneck and his silver chains did he dare to show his face ‘round you again. Spritzing enough cologne to almost overpower Jin’s omurice, he tries to smize from where he was sitting right opposite you on the kotatsu. “Nice place, huh?” 

The shot of extra, extra strong sake that Wasuke slides over is a consolation as much as a ‘you’re not in a restaurant, you fool!’ He finishes the cup in one go.

“You do have a very beautiful home.” You’re nodding over at a proud Jin. 

“And the- food- how is the food?” Another cup- what moral support, father. 

“Mmm- amazing, I usually never have the time to cook much for myself with the kids n’ all.”

Which Jin takes as the cue for him to butt in on the conversation, helping it flow as smoothly as an enclosing dam would to a river. “You like kids, huh?” Kicking Sukuna underneath the kotatsu, he rattles the plates. “Our Ryo here also…tolerates children.”

“Really?” You’re teasing, “I couldn’t tell.”

“Why I love kids, yeah.” Sukuna tuts as he lifts his hand to pat the crown of Choso’s head- who only swerves out of the way, food finished n’ leaving the room to join his brother playing. Hiccuping, you were so pretty sat in front of him like this- too pretty, that the vision of you was starting to get blurry. 

And another cup.

He’s jostled by the tap of Jin’s hand on his arms- “And he’s actually quite sweet in his own way once you get to know him. I’m sure dad agrees-” Ignoring Wasuke’s ‘I don’t’. “-that he’d make such a responsible-”

“U-unless you don’t like kids.” Still stuck on that - still. Sukuna downs it and then shakily pours himself another. “In that case, I don’t like kids either. Yeah, can’t stand them.”

And another. 

Jin and Wasuke share a glance between themselves when the hulking man leans over the kotatsu towards you with what sounded suspiciously like a whine. “Would you want kids with me?”

And- 

“Sukuna-”

“W-well—time for Ryo to be put to bed, I think.” Jin hastily stands up, struggling to hoist his oversized younger brother from his seat. Failing, evidently, as in that time he’s managing to gulp down another two or three sake cups. “Dad- a little- help?”

Wasuke only shakes his head gravely at you, “You should know he was switched at birth.”

“We’re nearly identical twins–”

“Twins? What-” Sukuna babbles, “Does she want twins?”

Glassy eyes blinking n’ squinting furiously down at you as if trying to figure out whether you were real. Before ultimately giving up, it seems.

Because he’s stumbling a few unsteady steps forwards, pulled by Jin, before dropping to his knees and toppling his head over your lap, just by the gap of the kotatsu edge and your stomach. He’s nuzzling his face right against your tummy, “Mmm— maybe triplets. Would be the cutest fuckin’ things if they looked anything like hck! her.”

You giggle and he gasps- as if the epiphany had just struck him. “Quadruplets?”

Starin’ down at him, at the rosy blush painting his ears, you’re muttering. “You wish.”

“Dammit- even this hck! illusion of her is fine as fuck. Shit. I wonder if her type is…” 

Trailing off, he looks to his older brother for assistance- who helpfully supplies, “Sad and drunk?”

Wasuke’s contribution- “Zero game- as the kids say?”

“Dangerous?” You pretend to think, assessing over the mountainous heap of a man. “Actually- only pretends to be but is really a softie inside?”

“Yes! That- wonder if he type is dangerous…pretend dangerous. I’d give her all the kids she’d ever want- all big…n’ glowing…” It was almost like the setting of the sun, and just as quietly that Sukuna’s dipping past the edge of consciousness. “And…mine…if she wants. Oh, only if she wants- I’ve gotta- hck!” He turns up slightly to you, “-gotta woo her first, you see? Gotta date her…marry…but- but most of all…” Words slowing, heartbeat still racing whenever he looked at you. “I…just want to love you, pretty girl.”

And with that, he was out like a flickered light. 

With only Wasuke, Jin, and Choso with his camera snooping through the doorway as witnesses for when you’re snaking a hand down to the phone bulging in Sukuna’s pocket. Quickly entering a few coordinates and a date. 

And a heart emoji.

.

.

.

“Oh- oh, shit, mama.” Sukuna’s tongue lays over the sheeny insides of your thighs, throat muddled with groans and the cloying taste of your slick gluing to his rovering mouth.

Honestly, fuck whatever tips his family had made him memorize before coming over for his lil’ ‘talk’ at your cozy apartment, as promised. Because the two of you had barely made out two or three words before Sukuna found himself sprawled on his back on your bed. 

Your knees framing his face, your clothed cunt right near his mouth.

Right near where he’s dotting your skin with hot, open-mouthed kisses that make your entire body tremble. Whimpering over your shoulder, “D-didn’t think you’d be such a tease, Kuna.”

“Because this isn’t real.” He’s breathing out, as if he’s just so sure of that fact. As if he can glide his ringed index down the dampened slit of your folds and drool- because this feels like a dream n’ he was going to savor every moment. “Fuck, there’s no way this is-”

And just at that very moment, he’s craning his head up further between your pretty, pretty legs. Greedy tastebuds darted out just so he can catch the treacly splat! of your leaking slit.

Dampening his tongue n’ drooling all down the edge of his tattooed chin, “Do you even know how many times I’ve imagined this exact moment?”

“Mmm- no-” You’re wrenching out a heady puff of air- spread on your front in the meanest sixty-nine. You gulp down your parched throat as you’re taking in the wet, bulging outline of Sukuna’s erection through his boxers. “But I can guess.”

He was just so big, aching- 

Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t just rock-hard. He was hard enough that he’s sure his round, bawling tip was damn near ready to fall off, twitching oh-so-painfully in his pants as he’s snapping back your soaked panties with a wet thwack!

Just a glimpse of the wet haven you were hiding and he’s groaning throatily, “Guess-” He hisses, close enough that the straight end of his nose slides down your puffy pussylips. Nudging your panties to the side and sniiiiiffing you, “You’ll never be able to guess how badly I want you, pretty girl.”

Never.

Never would you have even been able to register that within mere split-seconds, he’d have one beefy arm looping around your hips to make you sit on top of his mouth.

Slamming the edge of your cunt against his chin, plopping your full weight down until he’s nose-deep between your quivering legs. “Fuck-” Letting the first gush of your saccharine juices flood his throat, lips against lips. “Fuck fuck fuck- what was I even…saying?”

“W-wait–” Your breath hitches, spine arching into such a perfect curvature. You claw onto his meaty thighs in an attempt to regain balance, “You won’t be able to breathe like this, Sukuna-”

“You think I fucking care?”

It’s spat - spat - out right against the swollen nub of your clit. Hazed crimson irises rolling to the veeeery deep, dark depths of his skull at the first long gliiiide of Sukuna’s tongue from top to bottom of your pussy. 

Cheeks hollowed the very moment he’s pushin’ himself even closer, “You think I ngh- can care about anything else?” The very moment he’s tugging you back down - with the full force of his upper strength, hard enough that your heated aches with raw, primal bruises. “Be a good girl n’ put that hah- pussy on my face. Fucking- sit-”

“I don’t- fuuuuck—” Fingers twitching, it’s all you can do to fumble with the drawstrings of his wettened boxers. 

Thighs shaking at every flicker of his slimy tongue swirlin’ and stirrin’ every inch of your outer pussy. Your head muddles with the realization that Sukuna’s tongue was just so long that he could lap at your glisten hole n’ still have enough length left over to snag on your clit. “You’re not going to be the only hah- one-”

Whimpering, you find your eyes blurring up each time the ridged texture of his tastebuds glissade between your folds. Curlin’ in just past the elastic circle of your entrance-

And you’re gasping - but you don’t know whether it’s because of the lecherous intrusion or because of the way you’re pushing down Sukuna’s snug underwear to free his massive cock.

Reddened, swollen.

He’s bulging all solid and girthy that it makes your hole clench ‘round his flexible tongue. The cutest ruby-red at the top of his shaft, forming a gradient all the way down to his tight, heavy balls. Mentally, you’re counting about nine- fuck, maybe even ten damn inches that hit the end of your chin as he springs up. 

And from where you’re straddling him, you can make out what looked like a matching thick, black band of ink around his bulky hilt. 

Letting the polished pink crown of his cockhead smear out a generous dollop of pre, you’re teasing your tongue out just enough to taste the salted caramel taste. 

“You’re so…” Sinking him past your spit-slicked lips, his swabbing mushroom tip is just so big that your jaw aches just by looking at him. Just by fitting him inside, right until his drivelling slit- “-s-sho big, Sukuna.”

“Fuck- fuck-” He’s spitting into your cunt and you find yourself flinching, hard enough that his pearly white canines nip at your thighs and you cry out.

And he’s only holding you back - not letting you shift your restless hips even a single centimeter as he’s eating you out like a man dying of thirst. Dry tastebuds lavishing himself with wads of slick, Sukuna’s stuffing your tight hole with the entirety of his tongue. “You’re m-making me drool.”

You swear you’re feeling the thin line of his wet spittle stain the front of your cunt, whimpering around his bulbous cockhead. “Made ya stutter, too, Sukuna.”

“Ohhhh- talkin’ smart, are we?” Snickering, he lets off a loud spank against the front of your pussy - one that makes your bones reverberate, and your mind numb. Pushin’ back to ride the circling girth of his tongue, to ride him. “Why don’tcha put that mouth into use elsewhere?”

Elsewhere - his cock was so hot and throbbing between your swollen lips. Just the slightest slip n’ slide makes it feel like he’s pulsing all the way at the back of your throat. 

Creamin’ out a spray of syrupy precum that slides down your tongue, “So big- too big.” And yet- it was just so cute how you’re suckling him like your favorite lolly, eyes criss-crossing when you’re trying to take more. He couldn’t even bottom out. “Mmm– dunno if it’ll even all fit.”

“Well…” 

The way he’s drawling out in a smoky tone makes you ponder that this won’t be ending well for you. And Sukuna’s dark chuckle hits your cunt in a murky gust, “You’re takin’ it in from here—” Just at that sultry second, he’s crowning the snug circle of your hole with two fingers. 

Making you break out with a shrill waiiil as he sinks in the thick, calloused curves of his fingerpads. Letting such thick digits stretch you out fully, make your head spin. “So shut it n’ take this looong fucking cock, ma.”

All that it takes for him to plunge a few more throbbing inches past your maw, oh-so-big that you’re drooling down the sides of your mouth already.

Striking the edge of your throat and making you choke on his sheer size, your nose wrinkles as you’re tickled by the curly tendrils of his pinkish hair. “This enough or you want three, pretty girl-”

“I-”

Letting out such a cloying squelch that spurts from your pussy once he’s teasin’ your entrance, “Not you, mama. She wants three.”

Moaning away wildly after each pump of his fingers- Sukuna doesn’t even have to try to dip into each nook n’ orifice. Slamming to fingers down to each knobbly knuckle with a resounding slam- “See? See?” 

So cockdrunk on the feeling of his velvety tongue that you’re only partly registering the way his vocals are higher. Unsteady. 

The way you’re clamping your dewy walls in a cute, squelching smooch ‘round his digits makes his voice fucking crack. “J-just take it a bit- fuck- deeper.” Mindless little half-thrusts up into your heated mouth like he can’t even control it- “You can swallow it up like a reeeeal good girl, can’t you?”

“Mmm—” Purposefully letting off your pretty sounds all over his fleshy girth, “Yes- yes yes yes- more.”

“More?”

“More.”

As if he wouldn’t fucking ruin you if he could. 

“You want more?”

“Y-yes- oh.”

Only to be gifted with such a rude slap of his doughy palm, “Not you.” And he’s waiting for the soppy squelches leaking out from your cunt, the way you’re talking to him from your swollen lips just to continue. 

Squelch after squelch.

Your pleas only spur him to tug at the sweet, softened ring of your cunt, latching his lips over the flexing muscle. “If you say so—” Crooning, you can feel the cold hiss of his metallic rings upon the insides of your thighs. Sukuna’s biceps shifting as he starts to tug them off–

“A-actually-” You’re popping off of the strawberry-pink curve of his cocktip with a plop! a few glittery strings of pre and spit still connecting you lewdly to it. “…Keep them on?”

“Oh. Ohoho- you naughty lil’ thing.” He’s swatting over the slope of your dripping wet pussy n’ giving your clit a good pinch with his ringed fingers. “You like it like this- like- this-?”

He’s spitting out each word into your cunt, thrusting the barrelling tips of his fingerpads to graze just below your pulsating g-spot. “All those mouthy lectures?” In vulgar tandem strokes with the thwack! of his heavy, curvaceous balls slapping your chin. “And you wanna take it like- this- mama? Ohhh, it just makes me wanna…”

Trailing off, Sukuna’s body is just bulky - oh-so-tall that he can bend and reach down to cup your throat with his one free hand. 

Digging five of his fingertips into the side of your throat as he’s holding your neck and squeezing- feeling the cylindrical outline of his cock bulging your poor mouth. Up n’ down, up n’ down- he’s feeling for the precise moments his plump cockhead lodges at the back of your throat. 

“Who’d have known the cute lil’ teacher would be such a slut f’me. Cat got yer tongue, girl, orrrr—s’it just my dick?” Humming over your clit, he’s adding a fourth finger that swabs at the texture of your gummy walls. 

“F-fuck off- ngh-”

“Wha’s that? Try- try and say my name?” Squeezing. Only feeling your ripped, pathetic vibrations. “Can f-feel myself over here.”

With four neatly pushing fingers. 

Pulling back with a sluuurp–! Slowly, just so that you whimper that the knobs of his joints, just so that he can thump right on the target of your g-spot and make you cry out in cute bliss. “So s’only fair that I’m over here, pretty girl.”

“Yes- yes yes yes—” Words bubble out and slur out of your maw, in unison with such sloshing spurts of saliva. 

You’re drooling everywhere - from both pairs of lips. Your mouth over Sukuna’s hard, vein-covered erection, glazing his puffy lines of veins with sap. And your pussy slide-slide-sliiiiding down the gaping area of his mouth, wide open and eagerly lapping up each sloppy drag of your hips.

Faster.  

And now that Sukuna had actually found your most favorite spot, he couldn’t fucking stop.

Not when each whack at that same exact spot makes you splash your sweetened slick all down his throat, not when you were clenching your walls and cryin’ out at the frigid brush of his thick rings.

Again and again, he’s probin’ his crowned fingertips to push against the insides of your pussy, “Don’t think m’gonna last ngh-”

 “Yeah-” And that’s not to say his tongue was letting you off easy, either- simply aching with the feverish state of his movements. But it hurt Sukuna more any moment he wasn’t snogging your glossy cunt, n’ so he’s slapping your clit with a wet one-two. Spank after spank to make your hips jerk back and forth, “Whaddaya want? To cum? S’that it?”

Blubbering over the taste of his slick, sensitive slit, “Yes- yes, please- m’so fucking close.”

“Not. You.” Each word ended with two swats on your simmering pussy, you’re webbing his chin all down with syrupy sap. 

Moving off from your throat with a final squeeze, a bicep tightening ‘round your hips to squeeze you in place. “Not you- but you, pretty girl.” Slickly gliding back and forth all over your pried-open cunt, all over the quivering rim of your hole. Everywhere and anywhere. “Why don’tcha talk louder?”

And it’s not just you riding his tongue dry - it’s Sukuna bucking animalistically upwards, too. Pressing the ridges of his washboard abs up against your front, you’re just fountaining out so much sappy slick that it’s running down to the large mouth that he had tattooed across his stomach. As if both his ravenous mouths were gulping up each of your slick puddles. 

Crooning at the oversaturated squelch that spills out of you- he’s nodding like he’s never heard a sweeter sentence. Nudging his knuckles to bump against your g-spot, “If you say so—”

You don’t get to find out what he’s hearing - but you’re registering the gist soon enough.

Because by then Sukuna has his ringed index swiping your g-spot, coldly massaging that bundle of nerves. Hard. Sloppy. At the very same second he’s settling the fringes of his canines on your perky clit and streeeetching-

“O-oh my god I’m—” Keening out a whimper, your high runs you over like a rollercoaster. And you’re rocking your boneless body to and fro just as much, thumping your thighs into Sukuna’s sharp jawline. 

“Yes-” Clenching around his motions so hard that he has to fight to unstick his digits from the sides of your bubblegum walls, still fucking you through your lecherous high. “Oh, hell yeah, been so good for you, mama- why don’tcha reward me? Use me- hck- use me.”

As if you weren’t thrusting your cunt back into his face in a frenzy already, he’s using the arm holding onto your waist to keep you repeatedly moving. 

Tired-out. Fingers tugging into each crevice of your velvety walls. Cheeks aching and hollow where he’s putting such force on your throbbing clit to suck- “Ride my- mmmf-” Talking with his mouth full, “Ride my fuckin’ face raw- wanted to taste y’cumming on my tongue for so long.”

With your spine arched, you’re pulling off of the bulged tip of his cock just as he’s spewing out a slimy ribbon of ivory white. Just a single drivel of cum- just from the way you’re cumming. 

“God- god fucking dammit.” Sukuna spits, right into your cunt. And he barely even takes his eyes off of your slobbering pussy to snake a free hand down and plug his geysering orifice with his thumb.

Stopping himself promptly from cumming if it isn’t anywhere near your pussy.

But that didn’t mean he was letting you get away.

Oh, no- he’s still pulling you back with inclines of his head like a man addicted. Thoroughly drunk on the heady globs of slick that travelled between your legs, pushing and pushing himself upwards to glue his glossed lips all over your cunt.

You can feel yourself squealing with each lap of his scratchy tongue- the primal overstimulation too much that great droplets of tears take over your eyes. 

“O-oh– fuck- m’so sensitive, Sukuna.” You’re arching your back away- “I don’t know if I- oh!” Only to get pulled back down. Toes curling when this only spurs him to dive himself even deeper, flopping out the flexible end of his tongue to try n’ flit past your squeezing hole. 

Drawling, “Remember those fuckin’ sugar cookies? You taste- hah- even fucking better.”

Sniffling, your spine zings with a few more zaps of electricity as he’s starting to caress your sweetened g-spot once more. 

And the only thing you can do is try and pathetically pry his firmly-planted palm from his lengthy shaft, trying for the life of you to just get another taste-

“Oh. Oh.” Sukuna gasps from behind, pink brows raising. “I see what you’re doing, pretty girl. H-heh…hungry for more, are you?”

He didn’t need any further answer - because the way you’re cutely clenching to glaze his scouring digits tells him more than enough.

And before you know it, you’re finding yourself pulled off of his long, aching cock like some glorified ragdoll. Sukuna was just so large - in every sense of the word - that he could manhandle you with only one arm. 

Clinging onto the side of your waist as he’s sitting up, he makes you straddle the twitchy length of his cock. And now that you were seated upon his lap- oh, could you admire him.

Ryomen Sukuna was a fucking masterpiece. 

From the bands of tattoos circling his biceps, his wrists, straight down to the plush of his sculptured thighs. “Like what you see?” He tilts his head cockily down at you, slouching sexily back on your wooden headboard to let you take in all of his tensed core. 

Glistening pecs all temptingly large, abs ripped. 

“M’gonna get those pretty haaah- fucking initials of yours tatted.” He’s tapping the prominent side of his left v-line with a polished finger, “Right here.”

Climbing further upon his lap, you rest your ass cheeks back against his swaying cock, bobbing so hard n’ proud between your sheeny thighs. Pouting, “Only if you fuck me, Kuna— ngh-”

“Kuna? Tch- you see that lil’ tattoo here, mama?” He sounded as if he was shattering, and he’s leaning back so that you can take a goood, long look at the circular tattoo on his base. Nuzzled by the tufts of his pinkish happy trail, and his tender underside - but it was still there.

Like a target. And Sukuna’s thinking the exact same thing, “You’re gonna take it riiiight- till- here-” Lodging the swollen end of his shaft to plug your hole, it’s such a tiiight fit as he starts bullying inside. “Until- hah-” Feeling a hand down your tummy, your womb. “-here.”

He was going to fit himself until your pretty pussy won’t be able to forget him.

And it takes only seconds for you to be clawing onto his tattooed deltoids for dear life, feeling the inner parts of your thighs slip n’ slide down his own with perspiration. You scramble with the stringy, slightly-torn fabric of your panties still on- “Kuna- Su–Kuna, this-”

“Nah, let it stay.” Snickering, he claws onto the top of your scalp. “You have much…heh- bigger ngh- problems ta worry about, pretty girl.”

Bigger - his prolonged shaft was simply ravaging your walls. Plumply ballooned-up enough that his veiny layer rubs your sweetest spots without even meaning to, and you’re just seeing stars with every inch deeper his mazing cock spears through. “Fuck- fuck, it really is big-”

“Mhm– and you’re going- to take- it all.” Times like this he’s wishing he had just about four fucking hands. Because one’s pushing down, down, down on the lolling top of your head, the other’s pushin’ your trembling thighs apart just so you could straddle his meaty hips. “All hah- say my name. Say my name while you take it-”

And he always did love the way you said his name.

The way you’re letting free a few bubbly spurts of saliva as you’re babbling away–”Sukuna- Su-” Throat clogging up with so many sobs of utter bliss, “Kuna—”

“Again with the ‘Kuna’- s’not my name, silly girl.” Even though each sound of that slurring nickname makes him twitch against your deepest insides. 

But you can’t even hear him properly, eardrums distantly popped until the only thing you can feel is the thump! of your heartbeat between your legs. And the way that his reddened, slick-glazed tip was thrashing your tight insides, “Kuna- ngh, please, Kuna. Wan’ it a-all hck! Inside.”

The swabbing girth of his cock was so fat that he has you stupid with just his size, biceps bulging as he’s pressurizing down on your head. “God-” And you can only blink pathetically once he’s bringing up his free hand to your blurry line of sight. Hissing, “Bite down-” Lips smirking as you plant a kittenish bite, he fucks up into you once to make your force increase. “Bite down harder and take it.”

He wasn’t wasting any time - he didn’t have the fucking patience.

He barely even had the sanity to tease you and edge you for hours on end like he’d always wanted to. Instead fucking up into you like a damn animal- he’s swatting your cunt with the edge of his throbbing cock. Spitting through clenched teeth, “O-oh, if yer gonna ask for all of it then m’not playin’ around, ma.”

You sink your teeth in and nearly scream into the flesh of his forearm, gnawing down right at his tattoo. “Mmmpf- big- nghh–” Unable to fucking take it, the only thing you can do is arch your hips deeper and let his pummeling rams spike your poor insides.

Hitting the very back of your cervix with a wet thwack! that makes your eyes damn near bulge out of your head.

He…bottomed-out. 

“Lemme check now…” Taking a single peek at the way his hilt was all covered up by your bloated folds until he couldn’t see that tattoo anymore. “S’all in.”

And the towering man wasn’t celebrating once he did - he was pumping all his fleshy inches into you like he’d gone feral. 

Eyes dazed and hooded, mouth frothing with a line of silver drool - Sukuna grunts after each singular gliiiide of his watery orifice drawing down the bottom of your pussy. Sloppy. “F-fucking hell, never felt like this- what the…”

“Are you okay- oh god nghh–”

“M’fuckin’ more than okay.” Spitting out crassly, Sukuna swerves his hips off of the rickety bedsprings to drag his cock harder down your cunt. And it just felt so delicious to have his swollen veins stir up your walls, “S’just�� who let you feel this good?”

Your honeyed cunt has made him way too pussydrunk that now he’s tattling out everything from his melty mind. And you can only whine– “Heh-” One hand grazing his scorched ear, “You’re blushing, Kuna- better not be ngh- tapping out on me.”

“Tapping out?” Punctuated by a hard spank against the door to your womb - exactly where he said he would be - and then a harder one against your mapped-out g-spot. “Me? Me tappin’ out?”

Blinking through the splotchy whites sparking in your vision, “Y-yeah- fuck!”

SPANK!

Oh-so-hard, he’s swatting your pussy with enough stinging force that it makes glittering drops of slick splash across his slamming palm. “You n’ this smartass pussy are gonna see.” He’s gritting through dangerously grinning teeth, “There’s a fuckin’ reason I’m Ryomen fucking Sukuna.”

Because he’s rude - and he fucks even ruder.

Pounding away upwards into you like he doesn’t care if he’s bruising great purple bruises at the bottom of your cervix. The mattress creaks in fervent protest after each gyration of his hips, “P-please-” The only thing you’re mewling out like a broken record, “I-it just feels so…”

Trailing off, your movements are sluggish as your hand starts to slither down between your rutting legs. Yearning to just touch your neglected clit-

SPANK!

“Oi- and who’d ya think you are to touch- hngh- my pretty girl?” He’s grinning, manhandling you in an instant. Before your candied brain can catch up, Sukuna has both your arms pinned behind your back, chin hitting his cushy pecs. “I’ll touch her when I feel like it-”

Such a fucking tease, at the constant timing of his slimy mushroom tip spearing your cunt like a headlight- Sukuna lifts off one of his hands downwards.

Replacing your own with his roughened fingers, he pinches your poor clit—“Sh-shit m’so sensitive there- keep going, Kuna–”

And at this point you weren’t just drooling you were sheening the entirety of his smooth pectorals with a shiny polish. Letting it smear down the side of your cheek as you drunkenly lean on them like pillows, “Chehhh-” He’s spitting out, staring down at the glistening glaze dripping down to his bumpy abs. “Tha’s supposed to stay inside, pretty girl.” 

“I-inside?” Dazedly, the only thing you can think of were your rummaging insides, the way that Sukuna was fucking you like he hated you.

But it was the complete opposite. And he’s draggin’ on your clit, giggling to himself like he’s in love as he watches you huff n’ puff. “God you love it like this- c’mon, ngh- teach, milk this fucking cock- why don’t ya?”

“I-I am-”

SPANK! 

“Harder, mama, make me feel it.”

With a right spank to emphasize his sentence, he’s jostling his hips upwards so you’re left throwing your head back at the full, stretching impact. Unable to even handle the slightly spring recoil that comes with striking your cervix, he’s bouncing you on his pelvis. 

“S’this what you thought about every- hah- time you saw me?” Taking hold of your neck for a brief moment, he’s spitting doooown your throat. “Wantin’ me to fuck this- ngh- pussy raw?”

And the locked restraint on your neck helps bend you into the perfect geometrical curvature to stare up at him as he collapses forwards. Hot breath wafting your features, you whimper- “Y-yes.”

“Not you.”

“Kuna.”

“I’ve been dreamin’ of this for aaages now-” His clammy forehead crinkles as he’s scratching down your clit with the rough texture of his happy trail. Leaving it all stinging n’ raw to make sure the impact is extra sensual as Sukuna rubs over a slooow ‘K’ right on top. 

Rutting into your poor cunt so hard that the skin surrounding his v-line was all reddened- and he can’t help but take one look and moan. “M’getting that tattooed.” Watching as his mean, curvaceous cock molded your walls constantly to him. “Oh- trust when I say-”

And then a ‘U’

“Fuh-fuuuuck, please-” It almost feels like you’re begging for your damn life by now, lungs ripping with moans every time he’s thumping up. You ride your hips in a sexy figure-eight and feel the way Sukuna’s thumb trembles on your clit. 

A wobbly ‘N’

And you already knew what was headed next- oh, you were already prepared. 

But what you weren’t ready for was the completely vicious way that he’s accelerating his papping hips, so fast that the dark tattoo nuzzling your entrance was almost a blur. Thump after thump- 

You’re falling over until that symbolic inking of a widely-opened maw on his stomach licks up your core. Body twitching with white hot flashes of something electric running through your veins, “F-fuck- fuck, s’not gonna last-”

“S’that soooo—?” Sukuna asks down at your pussy to confirm, and only after a few ‘uh-huh’’s does he bore into your stupidly heart-shaped eyes. Tongue lolling straight out for him to lap up into his own mouth, “She says you’re close-”

A firm ‘A’

Another SPANK!

“-and I say you’re cumming already.”

“Wh-what…”

He’s ending off with a perfect heart shape rolled over your clit. What’s that spell- he’s asking mentally. 

Only for you to mewl wantonly as if you’d just heard. “Kuna- Sukuna- Yes- yes m’cumming m’cumming—” 

It’s like you’re enveloped in a tidal wave - you didn’t know where your orgasm started and where it ended. Just that Sukuna’s moans break into something octaves higher as he fucks you through your bliss.

You claw down the expanse of his flexing back with each burst of pre splattering your gooey insides. Toes curled, eyes all teary. “I-it’s so- hck! Feels too good…”

Turning you into absolute mush every time he pumps his thorough inches into you- and the mean fingers on your nub just tug n’ tug.

And it’s only after a few more of your shrilling whines that you’re still feeling the hot entrance of his shaft plummeting through, your walls squeezing ‘round his flared tip. “I want you to cum, too, Sukuna.”

“F-fuck.” He lets out, softly.

Cupping his attractive face, if you thought you were gone then you weren’t ready for the way that Sukuna looked. Cheeks burning hot and red, mouth parted with overspilling drool, brows furrowed into such an expression that it almost makes you feel shy.

Repeating those very same words, you start sloppily swervin’ your hips straight to his. “Cum inside m- ngh, please?”

All this time and his cute lil’ teacher was still minding her p’s and q’s. 

So, of course, when you’re asking him that nicely- it’s the least he could do to listen. To let out a final, vulgar stroke that has him spilling over the edge.

In great, piling heaps of ivory cum that puddles at the bottom of your pussy. There’s so much of it that your ears ring with the lecherous sluuurp–! as your cunt walls suck up every last steaming drop. 

You can feel it trailing down the insides of your thighs like a waterfall and keen, “Just like that, f-fuck…” Almost like you’re hypnotized, you drag one of his much-larger hands to palm the outside of your tummy. “Can feel it all the way here.”

“O-oh my god…” He’s groaning, eyes drifting off to the back of his head as soon as you’re meeting his tempo. Slamming down to rob his aching balls, milking him all dry - you were overspilling and it still wasn’t enough. “Y’really are a dream.” 

And there’s something about the way he’s sluggishly brushing away a stray bead of perspiration from your temple. Something about that lazy, half-lidded look in his eyes, the complete n’ utter reverence in his tone as he asks- “So…s’your type ‘dangerous’, mama?”

Almost…shy.

Oh, it hits you. He’s pussydrunk.

You’d made big, bad Ryomen Sukuna completely and utterly pussydrunk.

To the point where his studded ears flare a deep crimson once you giggle, “Mmm- pretend dangerous, Kuna.” His eyes shine. You think back to that night at the Itadori household, “And I also remember something about quadruplets?” 

It’s then that Sukuna whimpers. 

Not even pulling out. Not even considering such an impossible feat for even a split-second before he rolls your weakened body over.

Hovering over you now, it’s so easy for his beefy arms to tug your legs over his shoulders. Still shaking. Still suffering from the aftermath of your orgasm as he’s holding them tight and bending down, down, dooooown.

Straight into a mating press. 

Oh, your breath catches.

“Before I pound you until you can’t haaah- walk, mama-” Uncharacteristically, Sukuna gulps as he shifts his crimson eyes away from you. “-m’I giving you quadruplets that’ll have my last name?”

Now that was a round-about way to ask someone out- and he knows it, too. 

But it only makes you shuffle up onto your elbows on the now-ruined sheets, sticking to you like glue. You place a lingering peck on Sukuna’s wobbly, overstimulated lips, “Mm- I love you, too, Kuna.”

Oh, how he loves you. He almost cums right then and there. 

Fuck.

He does. 

.

.

.

“You.”

“You.” Yuji narrows his eyes down at the sight of Ryomen Sukuna towering over the busy preschool pick-up. Trying to look over his broad shoulders for any sign of his father, “Huh? But dadda said he was coming to pick me up today?”

Sukuna gingerly scratches the back of his head, “Yeah, well…listen, twerp- I mean, kid. There’s something I need to-”

Only to be cut off by a dramatic gasp—“Oh no- Did dadda go to jail just like you-”

“No,”

“Did he drive fast-”

“No.”

“Did he drink-”

“No-”

“Did he slash tires-”

“Maybe once?”

And fuck- he really didn’t understand tiny children, because explain to him why the pink-haired boy starts bawling in his arms. Pitiful enough to draw the glares of parents wrenching their own children away from the perpetrator, loud enough to draw the sweet concern of you.

Walking from your station saying goodbye to one other student, “Yuji what- oh!” You’re pressing your lips together to contain your smile as you happen to see who was throwing Yuji on his shoulders to soothe him. Bouncing him lightly until he smiled- and you did, too. “I didn’t expect you so early today, Kuna.”

“Yeah, well.” He’s using Yuji’s palms to cover the pinkish ends of his blushing ears, “Decided I wanted to see ya off from work today.”

Now past grief and straight into utter nosiness- “Wait- what do you mean ‘see off’.” He gasps, “Is she going to ja-”

“Brat-”

“What your uncle means to say, Yuji-” Playfully pinching his chubby cheeks, you try to ignore the gawking stares of every other one of your remaining students as you promptly turn to face Sukuna. Giving him a sweet, sweet peck on his. “-is that you’ll be seeing a lot more of me around.”

Another gasp - well, multiple.

One from Itadori Yuji, who gapes, open-mouthed between you and his uncle - as if wondering how he ever managed to bag you, and wait does that mean you’re his auntie now?

About twenty from your crowd of students, right along with a few whispers. 

“Hey, isn’t that weird Mr. Mugshot?”

“So that’s why Mr. Mugshot was always red- eugh! In my momma’s dramas they don’t get together, they just die.”

Fushiguro frowns, “I would rather die than watch him like this. Gross.”

“Caviar.”

Walking up from the group, Fushiguro tugs on your skirt. Innocently - but Sukuna could feel the evil intent. He just knew that boy was a villain. “Inumaki asks whether you mind that he sets fires, miss.”

What the fuck is with the fires-

And then finally - three distinct, unfortunately familiar gasps that make Sukuna dread turning around. Struggling against it, even as his nephew tugs on his locks of pink hair with a delighted squeal- “Dadda–! Bubba–! Gramps-”

You smile, watching Choso take flustered pictures of his uncle. “How the hell did you even win her over? All of these are going in the blackmail folder. Maybe your wedding presentation too.”

Sukuna bites back a shy blush- turning it into a scowl, “Maybe…”

“Well, I’ll be.” Wasuke nods his head in approval, “All thanks to the ah- ‘wingmanning’ as the kids say. I’ll be expecting at least three grandchildren in the future, sonny. And when I say ‘future’ I mean in nine months-”

“Dad! It’s too early for that.” Jin, ever-the-voice-of-reason, gives you a breezy handshake. “Congratulations- by the way.” And it’s all soft. It’s all sweet- that is, until you’re trying to pull your hand back and he only tightens his grip. Smile still tightly in place, “I will be the kids’ godfather, by the way.”

Settling an arm around you now, You and Sukuna don’t know whether to laugh or stand in shocked silence as Jin finally sets you free - but you don’t have to make the choice.

Because the annoying, grating voice of Todo Aoi breaks through—“Noooooo– my bride!” 

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[graythecoffeebean]

the 6 date disasters: breakfast +1 | series masterlist

featuring... megumi!

summary: you and megumi have a domestic start to your morning, just to be crashed by a certain cursed speech user.

warnings: none

a/n: i already have two other series planned for you all. i'm so excited!

you knock on the common room doorway at exactly seven o’clock. it’s early, but megumi asked you to come, so you did. you’re greeted by the smell of coffee and something vaguely sweet burning on the stove.

“you’re early,” megumi says.

“and you’re burning something,” you reply, stepping into the kitchen. 

he mutters under his breath as he rushes back to the stove, flipping a pancake that’s very well done on one side and nearly raw on the other.

“i don’t know why i thought i could do this,” he grumbles. 

you walk over with a laugh. “because it’s sweet.” you bump his hip with yours. “and i like to see you try.”

his shoulders lose the tension when you kiss him softly. you hand him a spatula and he hands you the bowl full of batter. you both fall into a rhythm of flipping pancakes and brewing coffee and teas, the early morning light making everything soft around the edges.

it’s not perfect. he drops every utensil he picks up and you spill syrup all over the counter, but it’s nice and it’s quiet. domestic, even. you hum under your breath as you brush flour from his arm, and he looks at you like you’ve hung the moon instead.

then the door creaks open and you both freeze. toge appears in a fuzzy hoodie, hair sticking up at odd angles with mismatched socks on his feet. he blinks at the scene in front of him—pancakes on plates, you in one of megumi’s sweatshirts, and megumi himself looking utterly dumbfounded. toge stays silent as he shuffles inside, yawning and sitting at the table like this is his daily routine.

“hey, toge,” you say, trying not to laugh at your boyfriend’s horrified face.

“why are you here?” megumi asks. you gently smack his arm, giving him a look that says be nice.

“salmon.”

megumi glares. “you don’t even live on this floor.”

“mustard leaves,” toge says calmly. he stands to get himself a mug and pours himself some of the tea you brewed as if it’s his kitchen.

you absolutely lost it, laughing into your sleeve while megumi stares at toge like he’s witnessing a crime in progress. toge just takes a sip of his tea, staring at you both over the rim.

“tuna.”

megumi looks like he might throw something. “he’s mocking me.”

“he’s literally just saying food words, gumi,” you say through a fit of giggles.

“he’s doing it on purpose.”

toge helps himself to a pancake.

“why are you like this?” megumi deadpans.

toge takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully. “bonito flakes.”

you almost drop the spatula as you laugh harder. megumi sighs, dragging a hand down his face and glaring at the back of toge’s head like he can will him out of existence. but toge remains unbothered, if anything, he seems more content than before. he chews slowly, sipping his tea, eyes drifting between you and megumi like he’s watching a soap opera or something. 

megumi grumbles and flips the last pancake like it’s personally offended him. you slide a plate in front of toge, who gratefully accepts with a peaceful little nod. the three of you sit together, steam rising from your mugs, and the food isn’t half bad either. occasionally toge will mutter something, completely strait faced. megumi pinches his nose, but you press your knee against his under the table and give him a soft smile. he looks at you, then down at your hand resting beside his. his pinky brushes yours.

“tuna mayo,” toge says.

megumi slams his head onto the table as you snort into your coffee. it’s not exactly the slow, romantic morning that megumi planned, but you’re laughing and your shoulders still brush. even the pancakes turned out pretty good in the end. so when toge says, “spicy cod roe,” with a smug grin, you reach over and take megumi’s hand under the table.

because the moment is chaotic and a little awkward, but it’s still yours.

[graythecoffeebean]

WINGS OF THE HEART⠀ ㅤ ⠀ ㅤNISHIMURA RIKI.

ALBUM CONTENT: explicit mature content, monster(dragon) fucking, dom! dragon! 西村力 x fem! reader unprotected sex (wrap it up) ❀ double penetration, riding, belly buldge, faint pregnancy kink 𖤐 1362... ᧔♡᧓ catalogue.

FROM PRODUCER: my first fic in this new account! can't stop thinking about dragon! riki with his current look, so i ended up writing this in one go. don't like? don't read. taglist. @byshens, @chuhees, @doucious.

When you were a child, naive and still too young to experience the cold, harsh reality of the world you live in, your mother will always read you the same bedtime story. The bedtime story has a simple plot—it starts with a princess being kidnapped by the dragon that lives in the forest, situated near the castle.

The king and queen had tried everything they could to find their precious daughter back to them but their efforts were futile. No matter how high and low their search parties searched, they couldn’t find the princess. It was like she had vanished into thin air. 

Years passed and eventually, they gave up, announcing that the princess was dead. What they didn’t know however, is how the princess was still alive. She had discovered the truth: the dragon is actually a human in disguise. It can shapeshift into a human at its free will and what it mostly desired was companionship and most importantly—love. Someone who will love him for who he really is. Someone who can embrace the ‘monstrous’ side of him. Someone who won’t run from him. 

Long story short, the princess ended up learning more about the dragon and to no one’s surprise, she fell in love with him. The reason why your mother read it to you before bedtime was simple: she simply hoped you could find a man and love him for who he is. After all, all mothers would want the best for her children, right? Although, you weren’t sure if your mother would be pleased if she could see your current situation.

“W-Wait, no more,” you panted, trying to move away or push him away but his strength easily overwhelms yours. 

Riki chuckled, ducking his head, his dragon-like tongue slithering out to teasingly graze the shell of your left ear. The heat sent shivers down your spine and made you tightened around him, drawing a mixture of a groan and low, deep growl from him. His eyes glowed a shade of light blue, making him look intimidating. But you weren’t afraid of him. 

“No more?” He echoed with a smirk, hand snaking down to where you’re deeply connected with one another, brushing his hand against your puffy, soaked folds. He jerked upwards, eliciting a surprised gasp from you when you felt his cocks kissing the entrance to your womb. “The way you clenched down on me says otherwise. Why lie when your body’s telling the truth?” 

He coos, lowering his head to trail butterfly kisses down the expanse of your neck that was covered in bite marks and hickeys—a physical claim to anyone who tried to lay their hands on you. That you belong to him and only him. Your breath involuntarily hitched at the fleeting sensation of his sharp fangs grazing against your skin. If he wishes, he could snap your neck and kill you on the spot. But you knew Riki’s too enamored with you to do that. 

You couldn’t speak, mind going hazy when Riki continued thrusting into you at a slow, lazy and languid pace. Like he has all the time in the world to make you fall apart in his arms. You don’t know how much time had passed since Riki had dragged you to your shared bedroom. Your clothes were ripped to shreds with his sharp claws, much to your annoyance. Whatever protests formed died down in your throat when he kissed you, his tongue easily sliding down until it reached the depth of your throat, making you gagged on the slimy muscle. 

One thing led to another and that’s how you ended up straddling his lap, his heavy, scaly tail wrapped around your waist in a possessive grip. Riki leaned against the bedframe, hands making themselves at home on your hips, drawing circles on your bare skin. Your poor hole was stretched impossibly wide in order to accommodate not one, but the girth of two cocks. The first time Riki fucked you, you ended up bleeding, much to your embarrassment but he wasn’t mad. He reassured you, resorting to only using one in the meantime, not wanting the same thing to happen again.. 

Now however, you’re already an expert, with how much Riki have you beneath him, reduced to a trembling, flustered mess. He couldn’t get enough of you. Of how warm and tight you feel with his cocks buried deep inside you, rearranging your insides to fit the outline of him. Of how breathtaking you look when you ride him, using him to greedily chase after your release. Of how angelic you sound with every thrust from him. To him, your moans were music to his ears and if he could, he would worship you until the end of time. 

“Mmpfh, s-so good,” you moaned, head tilting back with your hands loosely wrapped around his shoulders, eyes rolling up to the back of your head. You could get drunk on the intoxicating feeling of his cocks sliding in and out of you. Your slick from your previous few orgasms that Riki had graciously ripped out from you was enough to act as lubricant. 

The room was filled with the loud, sinful squelching sounds with your pleasured moans blending into the background. Your hair stuck to your forehead, skin glowing with a layer of sweat. The muscles in your thighs were starting to ache but you didn’t care when you felt your unknown climax coming. Riki could see the signs—the way your movements were getting sloppy and the way you were struggling to maintain your rhythm.

Which was why in a blink of an eye, he flipped you over onto your back without pulling out. One hand pinning your wrists above your head while the other gripped onto your waist to anchor himself, he pounded into you with no mercy. The sudden change of pace made you whined, back arching off the bed as you let him fuck you. 

“Shit, you’re still so tight even after I’ve fucked you,” he cursed under his breath, sounding as ragged as you are. 

Riki looked down, groaning out loud at how he could see his cocks protruding from your stomach. He watched as the small bump moved with every movement from his hips. His mind begins to spiral. Thoughts of pumping you full with his cum and you carrying his kids—maybe they will be half-human and half-dragons, walking around with your stomach round filled his mind. 

Growling and filled with new vigour, Riki shoved you deeper into the dirtied sheets, hips snapping against yours as he pistoned his hips, determined to get you pregnant. You couldn’t do anything, simply laying there as you let him use you like a ragdoll. Breathless mewls, moans and whimpers spill from your lips endlessly. You cried out when he wrapped his thick, puffy lips around your hardened, sore right nipple, the split end of his dragon tongue circling the bud with ease. 

All it took was one final, hard thrust for you to reach your climax. Your thighs trembled from the pure intensity of your orgasm. Clear, warm liquid gushes out from your pussy, soaking the sheets and your bodies wet. Riki was quick to follow suit, spilling his seed inside you. He made no move to pull out. Instead, he collapsed on top of you, making you let out a dignified squawk as you couldn’t breathe properly. Not when he was suffocating you to death. 

“Get off! You’re heavy!” You squeaked, wriggling your hand out to smack his shoulder. 

Riki shook his head, wrapping his arms around you as his tail loosened its grip around your waist. He buried his head in the crook of your neck and whined, acting like a child being scolded by their mother. “Don’t wanna. You feel nice and warm.” 

You whacked the back of his head, making him flinched; startled as you scowled. “Yeah, no thanks to a certain someone. I’m all sticky and sweaty too.” 

“Don’t care. I wanna sleep,” he murmured, words borderline slurring as he felt his eyelids growing heavier and heavier. The next thing you knew, Riki had fallen asleep with his cocks still inside you, much to your annoyance. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you mumbled, cupping his face with your hands, thumbs grazing the skin underneath his eyes. Without his dragon-like features, Riki could pass as a regular young adult. Your eyes softened when he unconsciously nuzzled into your palms, acting like a touch-starved cat. Unable to help it, you leaned forward to press a soft, loving kiss on his forehead. 

Good night, my precious dragon. 

[graythecoffeebean]

(TEASER!) MISSION: MATRIMONY ˒˒ yjw

your handler was very clear what your mission entailed: get in, get information, then get out, no matter the cost. when you find yourself in a sham marriage to avoid suspicion from the enemy country’s government, you begin to realize the cracks in your ever-so-sweet husband’s facade. turns out, the enemy might be even closer than you thought.

pairing) spy!jungwon x spy!reader

tags) fluff, enemies to lovers, romantic comedy, action

wc) SOON

warnings) mentions of killing, injury, weapons, violence, and more.

your husband was hiding something.

whether it was a mistress, a huge debt to an evil loan shark, or a criminal record, you were yet to find out. even if your money was on the mistress. honestly, that was what landed you in couple’s therapy in the first place.

so you sat primly in a therapist’s office — legs crossed, arms folded, and the big, fat diamond itching on your ring finger itching like guilt. truly, how did you let his big secret elude you? you’re a spy, for god’s sake. you escape death on the daily, uncover national secrets, and get rid of dirty politicians, yet you can’t figure out where your husband heads on his own after dark? or why exactly he leaves no trace of his activities?

doctor kim’s office reeked of lavender room spray and he smiled like someone that reupholstered his own furniture and drank chamomile by the gallon. he adusted his glasses for a moment, clearing his throat and letting his eyes wander to his clipboard.

your husband beat him to it.

“that’s jungwon. with a j.”

his voice was steady, pleasant, even warm. the kind of voice that could pull you to sleep— or into your demise if you didn’t know better. except you did. your husband was lying to you, and you were yet to find out just how catastrophic the situation really was.

jungwon sat in the sad, beige lounge chair beside yours and smiled like he meant it. teeth pearly white, hair parted neatly, and not a wrinkle in his carefully ironed shirt, he looked every bit the image of a loving spouse.

you resisted the urge to douse him with kim’s steaming cup of tea.

doctor kim only nodded, humming and scribbling something down on his notepad.

“well,” the doctor started, chuckling when you and your spouse tensed up ever so slightly.”i’m going to start off by letting you both know that this is a safe space. no judging or assigning blame, and especially no hurting each other.”

the softest of laughs followed. “you’re not going to kill your spouse. neither of you are murderers.”

as if on cue, the two of you offered the oblivious man across you tight smiles and awkward chuckles.

except now, your neatly polished nails were curling into the arm rests and jungwon’s arm was twitching like he was calculating the distance between him and the nearest emergency exit.

“just to clarify—we don’t need marriage counseling. this is just… a healthy little check in.” jungwon spoke, as if the chill in the room didn’t exist.

you turned to stare at him, before slowly nodding stiffly in agreement. “right. like a dentist appointment, but for our marriage.”

the doctor only blinked, before moving to furiously scribble down notes on what you believed to be his thoughts and observations about how you were the strangest couple he’d ever given aid to.

kim nodded, likely regretting every certification framed on his wall. “you’re not alone in that mindset. a lot of couples come to me just to strengthen their bond. say, on a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your ability to talk through conflict?”

“7.” you said, almost immediately. it was robotic and held no emotion, like you had planned out answers for specific questions beforehand.

jungwon’s confident “9.” followed right after.

you turned to him slowly, and he tilted his head at you like this were some quaint dinner conversation and not a literal bomb waiting to detonate all over your lives.

“that’s generous,” you said.

“what can i say? i’m a generous guy,” your spouse replied smoothly, and you held his stare with an intensity that made the third party in the room begin to sweat.

the doctor cleared the tightness in his throat, the lavender diffuser puffing in the corner like it was nervous too. you and your husband stayed as cool and collected as ever, despite the fact that you were making a mental note to hide his keys later. and oh, you were going to hide them good.

“well,” he said carefully. “do the both of you feel heard by your partner?”

you really thought about this one. your husband always looked like he was listening, staring at you intently and leaning into your every word. head tilted and hands folded, you had to give it to him. he did make you feel heard.

that is, if you didn’t feel like he was calculating the pressure points on your neck half the time.

“sure,” you responded curtly. jungwon pursed his lips, looking as if he didn’t like how you were already bored of the conversation. “he listens.”

completely disregarding his previous expression, your partner smiles graciously. “and she talks a lot.”

“excuse me?” you turned to him, completely and utterly fed up with his bullshit responses as if you weren’t paying this damn counsellor 300 bucks an hour to keep up appearances. your killing and spying for a living can only make so much.

“honey,” your husband laughed. “i’m just agreeing with you here.”

“i talk a lot,” you smiled, the kind that would make any normal person flinch. except, your freakishly perfect husband was no normal person. ”mind elaborating?”

he didn’t react. of course he didn’t. a lot of your inner hatred towards him was rooted from how good he was at pretending. at being a doting husband. a cardigan-wearing, camellia-watering, perfect man who never had a hair out of place during dinners at 7.

”just saying,” jungwon said, leaning back with the manly charm that had you falling into his honey trap in the first place. “sometimes i don’t even have to speak. it’s like she’s having the conversation for the both of us.

you scoffed, and something tells you your husband is well aware of how he’s irritated you.

from beside you, jungwon smirked in his seat. and you?

unsure whether you wanted to kiss him or kill him.

like 4 tag once released!