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katsuki gets hard when you take care of him 🗣️

he hates being sick; he hates being out of commission because he feels useless and therefore weirded out that you want to feed him soup when he's not even actively contributing to society.

(the first time he told you that, you gave him a look he's pretty sure was pity.)

when you sweep sweaty bangs off his forehead, he bites down on the inside of his cheek to bury the groan in his throat.

he doesn't know how to love like you do, with the kind of gentle affection apparent in every spoonful of soup you bring to his lips.

"you okay there, dynamight?" you glance pointedly at his lap, a playful glint in your eyes. "what's got you so distracted?"

well, fuck. he's so out of it he didn't even notice his dick swelling.

his ears burn. he has no idea how to voice that you mothering him is turning him on to the point of near insanity.

"it's nice," he says defensively, gesturing at you vaguely, but you don't miss a beat.

"i like taking care of you, kats." your hand settles on his chest, and you lean in close, a smile on your mouth that he wants to lick off. "i like that you let me."

your thumb sweeps back and forth on his sternum, a burning caress he feels at the base of his dick. he's a second away from grabbing your hand and thrusting it down his pants like a fumbling teenager, but you pull away, the smile on your mouth going coy.

"pretty sure my patient needs to rest up before he undergoes any rigorous activity."

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thinking about doing that tiktok trend with satoru where you pretend to be another woman that goes up to him in public but he fails every time…

not because he’s unfaithful but because he keeps forgetting that you’re pretending to be someone else and he can’t stand being mean to you.

“wait no I can’t do this— so you’re someone else?”

“yes you can just use that vivid imagination of yours to pretend I’m someone else”

“oh okay.” satoru tries to focus, getting back into his ‘acting’ mode. “let’s try again”

you go back to your starting position and walk towards him with the purpose of toppling into him.

“oh sorry!! wow you’re soooooo handsome, I didn’t mean to bump into you, can I get your number?” you run your hands over his biceps, keeping up your flirtatious gaze

“No. Stay away. I have a beautiful girlfriend waiting for me at home actually.”

“Oh do you?” You cross your arms, meeting his eyes. There’s a playful smirk on your face as you tease him.

and because it’s you Satoru can’t help but smile at your face.

“Satoru!!” you slap him lightly, “you failed. again.”

“But you’re really pretty right now baby, I can’t help but get distracted, I’m sorry!”

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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.

[madehellline]

I think Bakugo would be the type to stand silently behind you while you're getting ready — arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe like he wasn’t intentionally watching your every move.

You're dabbing concealer under your eyes, brows furrowed, lips slightly parted in concentration. You don’t even notice him at first, not until the room’s too still and you catch his reflection in the mirror — that unmistakable smirk playing on his lips, eyes low-lidded and heavy with something you can’t quite place.

You blink. “What?” you ask, a little breathless.

He doesn’t move, just lingers behind you with that slow, deliberate gaze, and replies, low and rough, “Nothin’. Just... you look beautiful. That’s all.”

You scoff, but your cheeks flush anyway. “I’m not even done—”

Bakugo pushes off the wall. Comes up behind you. His hands settle at your hips, warm and grounding. His head dips low, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he murmurs, “Tch. You don’t need all this, babe. You’re already fuckin’ perfect.”

You shiver. And when he brushes your hair aside to place the softest kiss at the nape of your neck — slow, unhurried — your brush clatters softly onto the counter.

He rests his chin on your shoulder after, arms circling your waist like you’re something precious. And with a smirk you can feel, he adds, “Still gonna wait while you finish though. Wanna stare some more.”

[madehellline]

How to impress you-Megumi's kindergarten teacher. Gojo was thinking about it hard. He tried flirting, you wouldn't budge, you would get a little embarrassed but you would brush off his flirting. Then like a sign from God Megumi came home with a paper for a field trip- in need of chaperones. If a parent was interested they needed to contact you asap and text your personal number. He immediately shoots you a text.

"This is Gojo Satoru, I am interested in the chaperoning job if it is still open?"

you type back almost knowing he would be the first volunteer.

"It just so happens you are the first to reach out. It's this Friday and the kids are going to the local petting zoo. We just need parents there since all the kindergarten class is going."

He smirks- this is his chance. He replies,

"See you Friday."

You are now looking down at your phone shocked, you knew he would reach out but he is so difficult to fight back. Now your class volunteer position has been filled and you are going to be stuck sitting next to him on the bus and spend a day with him around you all day.

Friday comes too soon, you are so nervous.

But for Gojo this day couldn't come quick enough. He brought you a coffee- (you usual order, not sure how he knew but you ignored that.)

"You didn't have to get me a coffee-"

"Of course I did, how else are we going to handle all these munchkins all day? Besides I take Megs to get a hot chocolate most days."

You smile at that,

" I know he always walks in with his little white coffee cup with a scowl. It is cute he always looks so grumpy before he comes in. Then he is pretty good, smiles and all."

Gojo is looking at you like you are a goddess. He knew it was hard for Megumi to feel safe and comfortable. After his real dad ditched him, it was hard for him to smile but hearing you say he can smile in class makes him beam.

"Thank you for that by the way, he has been in better moods since he has been in your class."

You look at him and smile sadly,

"I had heard about his mom and his dad, and I knew I wanted to create an environment that children feel safe and loved in. You don't know a child's home but you know what you can do for them."

You finally arrive at the petting zoo and teacher mode is on all smiles, your voice still gentle but with some firmness.

"My class you are to follow me and Mr. Gojo, please get in a single file line and follow us."

Gojo smiles as the kids look at him he see's Megumi in the line near you with a small smile. He knew he was in deep with this one. You being a Disney princess of a person and making his son smile, is something that won't go unrecognized.

[madehellline]

“four days?”

satoru pauses mid-sentence, raising his eyebrows. “uh–, hm?”

you can feel the irritation building in your body. “you haven’t slept in four days?”

suguru continues washing dishes as he silently observes the interaction. he knows better than to get involved when he hears that tone.

your other boyfriend clears his throat, shuffling back and forth on his feet. whatever story he was telling has been completely forgotten about.

“satoru, you’re about to piss me off.“

“baby!”, he whines, drawing closer to put his hands on your waist. you don’t return his touch, opting to keep your arms crossed over your chest. “baby, the higher ups needed me for these missions.”

“i don’t give a d–,” you pause, narrow your eyes at him, and sigh. “i don’t care.”

satoru gives you a puppy-eyed pout, glancing at suguru for help. help he unfortunately won’t be receiving.

“it’s fine.” satoru tries to calm your anger. he gently squeezes your hips, resting his forehead against yours. he can tell it isn’t doing a thing.

“i only have a few more days of missions.” your face twists into something wicked. satoru would’ve kept this from you, but he knows if you found out afterwards, his life would probably be on the line.

“you’re not going.”, you snap. “tell them you’re using time off. matter of fact, go upstairs and get ready for bed. i’ll tell them myself.”

“babyyyy.”, satoru whines again at you. “you know I don’t like you talking to the higher ups–“

“you know i don’t like you abusing yourself for their sake. now you’re on a sex ban. get upstairs, now.”

he sputters. “wha–?! a sex ban?”

“that’s what i said.”

the glare you give him lets satoru know you’re not joking in the slightest. he shares another glance with suguru, but your tone seeps of finality. he’s fucked up, royally. no pouts, pleads, or puppy-dog eyes will get him out of this one.

he utters a final, dejected ‘yes ma’am’ and carries himself off to bed.

with satoru taken care of, you raise a brow at your other partner who has remained silent throughout this entire ordeal.

“when’s the last time you slept?”

suguru has nothing to worry about. even with his sporadic insomnia, he was able to get at least 6 hours of sleep a night in between his own missions. so, he doesn’t know why he’s sweating so hard.

“yesterday.”, he answers with a timid, placating smile. “i slept almost all night.”

you study him for a couple seconds. it feels like hours to suguru. he withers under your contemplative stare, wondering if he sounded convincing enough for your liking.

“mhm.”, you hum at him, and suguru stops holding his breath. “done with the dishes?”

“i have a few more.”

“i’ll do those. you go upstairs, too.”

suguru can’t tell whether or not you believe him, but he also doesn’t want to argue with you. he slinks off feeling like he’s also been scolded, murmuring his own ‘yes, ma’am’ as he passes by.

[madehellline]

it’s late already. you looked at the clock, it's already past midnight. the lights are off, but the room glows faintly with that gray-blue stillness only found between the last hour of night and the first breath of morning.

fushiguro megumi is asleep in the cot near the bed, curled up like a little bean under a blanket that keeps slipping off. the soft wheeze of his nose and the barely-there shuffle of his hands are the only signs of life in the silence.

you can’t sleep. not anymore.

you’re too tired to sleep. there’s a difference.

but that's just how it was, you think to yourself.

things have to be fair, after alll.

your body aches in ways you’ve stopped naming. the hospital smell has faded from your skin, but the bruises from the IVs still bloom purple and green along your hand.

your head is bald now, scalp soft and exposed, catching cool drafts from the window you cracked open earlier to feel something real. fushiguro toji is beside you in bed. awake, for once.

he’s always stiller than he looks, like a beast pretending to nap but listening for threats. but now, he’s talking. his voice low, slow, fingers brushing gently across the crown of your head.

"so....how about weddings?" you asked him, your voice low, too tired. you tried to make sure that it wasn't something he notices. "how was it like?"

“there was a wedding once when i was still there, well one grand enough anyway.” he says, humming. “back in the zenin estate. when i was a kid.”

you smile faintly. you’ve heard this one.

still, you let him tell it. it doesn’t matter.

you liked hearing him tell it all over again.

“it was some cousin of mine. third or fourth or whatever. rich pricks, you get me?” he adds with a dry snort. “everything was gold and loud. even the rice they threw looked expensive.”

your hand, the bruised one, is cradled in his other palm. he keeps tracing the inside of your wrist, slow, as if his touch could press something back in. life, time, luck. he keeps talking. you keep listening. somewhere along the line, it shifts.

“bride wore something stupid. feathers. like a chicken crossed with a geisha.” he mutters, and you chuckle, soft and tired.

"oh? and then? what else?"

“the mother of the groom, she was such a nightmare, baby.” he says, trying to be animated. “she was so dramatic. she wasn’t there. she missed her son's entire wedding!"

you hum, amused, turning your head slightly on the pillow. “what kind of mother of the groom misses her own son’s wedding? that’s ridiculous.”

he goes silent. completely. the kind of silence that isn't empty but full. swollen. stretched. you feel it first in his chest, how he stiffens against you.

his long fingers on your scalp pause. the ones holding your hand squeeze, too tight at first, then trembling. you turn your head toward him. you felt sorry for saying that.

“toji…”

his jaw clenches. you can’t see it in the dark, but you feel the movement, hear the breath catch. a drop lands on your shoulder. then another.

“shit.” he murmurs. and it breaks. whatever wall he had left in him buckles.

his face presses into the space between your neck and shoulder, and his arms pull you in like he could keep you here, keep you from slipping further, as if the right pressure could fight what medicine couldn’t.

you don’t cry. you’ve done enough of that already. you wanted nothing more now than to make sure you smile. that it was what toji remembers. what your husband rememebrs. you just lift your hand, your good one, and stroke the back of his head.

“i’m still here, baby.” you whisper. "its okay, don't worry."

he sobs, almost like a child. muffled. quiet. ugly in the way grief is when you try to swallow it down for too long. you press your forehead against his.

“tell me more, baby. go on.” you say, breath shallow but warm. “i want to hear more stories.”

“baby…”

“just keep talking. please.”

his breath shakes. he nods into your shoulder, then lifts his head, sniffling hard.

“i saw a buddhist priest trip once.” he whispers, trying to stop his voice from shaking. “during a funeral. landed face first in the incense burner.”

you giggle, even if it hurts. “what happened?”

“we all pretended we didn’t see it, but that man’s eyebrows were on fire.”

your laughter shakes the bed. his hand returns to your scalp, stroking slow, reverent. the kind of touch that wants to memorize what it’s losing.

just then, your beautiful megumi cries. not loud. just a soft, confused sound. the kind of baby cry that doesn’t ask for much. just presence, just your attention, your love. what's left of it.

toji exhales, getting himself together for a moment. he sits up and crosses the room in three strides. he carefully scoops the baby into his arms with ease.

“hey, hey. it’s alright, megumi.” he mumbles, rocking megumi gently.

the baby quiets a little, cheek pressed against his father’s shoulder. toji turns to you. “can i bring him here?”

you nod. “please.”

he lies down beside you again, gently, like you might crack beneath the weight of him. megumi is curled between you both, small fingers clinging to the fabric of your sleeve like even in sleep, your son knows something is slipping.

toji wraps one arm around megumi’s tiny body, holding him close. the other curls around your waist, fingers splayed carefully across the fragile place between your ribs and hip.

he’s holding you like you’re already gone. he's holding you like maybe if he keeps his hands there, keeps you bracketed in warmth and weight, you’ll stay.

your breathing is shallow. he’s memorized the rhythm of it—how uneven it’s become, how each breath pauses too long before it dares to return.

the three of you lie there, skin to skin. breath to breath. you shift just slightly. your weary, broken hand twitches, as if reaching for him in your sleep.

your eyes open, only half. and you smiled back at him. so faint it might’ve been imagined, if he didn’t know every curve of your mouth by heart.

“i love you so much, toji, my baby.” you whisper. your voice is frayed, breath threaded with pain. but the words come easy. as if you’ve waited your whole life to say them like this. “you and megumi... i love you.”

he breaks in a way that he had never done before. it was not in a loud, ugly way but in the way a dam breaks under pressure. quietly. inevitably. all too aware. his throat seizes.

“i love you too.” he says, voice hoarse. he squeezes you tighter. presses his lips to your forehead. “more than anything, baby. more than anything.”

your eyes slip shut again. this time, slower. like it’s safe. like it’s okay now. he stays there, still. frozen. waiting for the next breath. but it doesn’t come.

the quiet settles. not just in the room but inside him. something deep and final. he doesn’t shake you. doesn’t call your name. he just pulls you closer.

his arms around you, around megumi like maybe he can hold the moment long enough to undo it. but it’s done. it’s over. and maybe that’s mercy. maybe that’s love, too.

no, yes. it was love. it was love in another name, with no where to go. it was named grief. a love he was not familiar with just yet. a love that he doesn't want to be familiar with. not in this life. never in any lifetime.

he presses his forehead to yours, blue-green eyes shut tight. megumi stirs between you, lets out a soft sigh, then goes still again. fushiguro toji swallows a sob.

he’s crying without sound now, the kind of tears that come when there’s nothing left to scream about. he didn't want to scare megumi, nor alert him to a loss, a love he shouldn't need to live or know.

“no more pain, baby.” he whispers. voice cracking. shaking. "no more hospitals. no more needles. no more nights wondering if you're gonna make it to morning."

he kisses the space above your brow, slow, reverent. "i love you, i love you." he chokes, the words soaking into your skin. “i love you. more than anything,”

he stays like that for hours.

not because he’s waiting for you to wake up.

but because he doesn’t know how to say goodbye.

not to the only place that ever felt like home.

not when it was you.

[madehellline]

tori’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ finally decided to post something hehe

ex-military! nanami who left the service because there was nothing left of him in it—just orders and ache and blood that didn’t wash off, no matter how hard he scrubbed.

ex-military! nanami who moves to a quiet part of the city, keeps his head down, works construction jobs, likes using his hands for things that build rather than break.

ex-military! nanami who has a scar that stretches jagged down his the left side of his face to his torso, old shrapnel near his ribs, bullet wounds on his shoulder and thigh. he doesn’t talk about them, but they hurt when it rains.

ex-military! nanami who visits the same tiny cafe every morning at 7:00 a.m. sharp. black coffee. no sugar. no cream. he always tips well. says little. the staff calls him “sir” until you show up.

ex-military! nanami who meets you because you’re new at the counter, bright smile, humming to yourself, and you mess up his order—give him a caramel macchiato by accident and call him “darling” out of habit.

ex-military! nanami who stares at the drink, stares at you, and doesn’t correct you. not about the name, not about the coffee. he drinks it anyway. comes back the next day. you do it again. he doesn’t stop you.

ex-military! nanami who is fascinated by how you talk with your hands, by how you remember customers’ pets’ names, by how you laugh even when your feet hurt and the espresso machine is spitting steam like a monster.

ex-military! nanami who starts lingering a little longer, taking his coffee at the bar, watching you scribble dumb little drawings on to-go cups for kids. you offer to draw him too. he says no. you do it anyway. it’s a stick figure with glasses and a tie. he keeps the cup.

ex-military! nanami who doesn’t know what to do when you ask what he used to do. he says “contract work” and changes the subject. you don’t press. you just say, “sounds intense,” and give him a muffin on the house.

ex-military! nanami who watches you dance behind the counter to music you think no one hears. your joy is so loud it drowns out the ghosts in his head.

ex-military! nanami who walks you home one night when your shift ends late. no questions. just a steady presence beside you. you chatter the whole way and he listens like it’s the only thing he’s good at anymore.

ex-military! nanami who doesn’t flinch when you touch his hand. doesn’t flinch when you see his scars. doesn’t speak when you kiss them—just closes his eyes like you’re rewiring something inside him that’s been broken too long.

ex-military! nanami who can’t believe you love him. don’t you see what i’ve done? his body says. don’t you see what i carry?

and you smile like sunrise and say, “i see you.”

ex-military! nanami who starts sleeping through the night again. because of you. because of the way you breathe beside him. because of the way you pull him into the light like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

ex-military! nanami who loves you like a silent vow. fiercely. quietly. fully. not because you saved him, but because you reminded him he was worth saving.

[madehellline]

MDNI 18+

gojo satoru almost never removes his blindfold.

not during missions, not to sleep. not even when you’re beneath him like this, panting into his mouth. he usually keeps it on—spares him the headache. you’ve never minded, though. his presence alone compensates for what he keeps hidden.

but tonight, something makes him pause mid-thrust.

he stills, breath shallow. two fingers hook beneath the edge of the fabric. with one slow pull, he slides it down. it hangs around his neck now. what’s revealed steals away your breath.

his eyes are otherworldly.

not just electric—opalescent, almost volatile in their beauty. platinum bled to cobalt, cold fire beneath a lattice of lashes so pale and translucent they catch light like spun sugar, long enough to kiss his cheekbones when he blinks. too beautiful to be real. too unreal not to be divine.

you reach up, brushing a lock of silver hair from his damp forehead, fingers grazing the corner of one crystalline eye. his lashes flutter—languid, indulgent, unbearably fond.

“you like?” his grin tilts crooked. boyish and smug. words simply fail you, so you nod. the motion cause you to tighten around him. he exhales sharply, nearly chokes on a groan.

“careful,” gojo mutters, sinking deeper into you. “you keep lookin’ at me like that, i’ll embarrass myself.”

your legs cinch around his waist, and the next breath he lets out is shaky. there’s colour high on his cheeks now—pink cresting beneath damp silver hair, reaching the delicate points of his ears. his gaze lingers on your face, then dips to the bounce of your breasts as he thrusts again.

“told you i was pretty.”

[madehellline]

“happy father’s day,” you murmur, slipping your arms around gojo’s waist from behind.

he’s halfway through shoveling a spoonful of strawberry ice cream into his mouth and pauses mid-bite.

“huh?” he mumbles, turning slightly in your arms with a mouthful and furrowed brow. “baby, you know we don’t have kids, right? unless you’ve been hiding a baby somewhere i don’t know about?”

you roll your eyes. “i know, dumbass.”

he pouts. “so why’re you saying—”

you just point with your chin across the courtyard.

he follows your gaze.

there, lounging like a band of chaotic little gremlins, are yuuji, megumi, and nobara, bickering over popsicle flavors. maki’s sitting on the bench beside them, trying not to smile as panda pokes fun at toge for something, who just responds with a flat “salmon.”

satoru looks, then looks again.

then his eyes widen behind his sunglasses, lips parting just slightly. “oh.”

you nod. “yeah.”

he turns fully in your arms, ice cream long forgotten, the softest smile blooming across his face—bright and fond and achingly proud.

“they’re kids,” he says quietly, “they’re my little kids.”

“exactly,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “you taught them how to fight, how to survive. how to live. they’re still here because of you.”

he blinks a few times. doesn’t say anything.

just watches as yuuji leans back and laughs so hard he nearly tips over, megumi catching him by the collar without looking. nobara shoves them both and gets dragged into the pile.

maki shakes her head. panda sighs. toge just laughs.

a tiny, watery chuckle escapes satoru’s chest.

you nudge him gently. “you’re not just their sensei. you’re their… you know. their person.”

he leans into your forehead and breathes in slow. “you’re gonna make me cry,” he says, voice cracking a little.

“good,” you smile, wiping under his glasses.

he kisses you, sweet and slow, and then pulls back to yell at the kids, voice suddenly obnoxiously loud—

“hey! none of you got me a card?! what kind of disrespect—megumi, stop pretending you don’t care, you’re my grumpy little son—”

megumi groans. nobara throws a napkin at him. yuuji waves enthusiastically and screams, “HAPPY DAD’S DAY, SENSEI!”

and gojo beams so hard it looks like the sun broke loose from the sky and settled in his chest.

tori’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ i guess i’m a little late but happy father’s day gojo!! ily pls come back home

[madehellline]

"ᴡʜᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴜᴄᴋ ᴅɪᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ?"

...In which someone gets violent with you in front of him.

sukuna, gojo, megumi, and suguru.

genre, fluff? warnings, violence! notes, ughhh i love when men...

★ RYOMEN SUKUNA

It happens fast. Too fast. One second you’re blinking back shock from the sting of a slap across your cheek, and the next—

“You fucking dead piece of shit.”

The air shifts. A blood-red blur barrels past you before your heart can catch up. Sukuna’s fists connect with the guy’s jaw, a bone-snapping crack echoing through the corridor. He doesn't stop. A punch to the stomach. A kick that slams the boy against the lockers. Then another. You think you hear the guy trying to say something—maybe apologize—but Sukuna’s boot is already crushing into his ribs.

“Touch her again, and I’ll feed you to my dogs, limb by fucking limb.” He seethes, voice venomous and brutal, spitting insults like poison while pinning the guy by the throat. "You wanna bleed, huh? I'll fucking gut you right here—"

“Sukuna,” you whisper, breath catching.

He turns. Blood streaks his jaw, knuckles raw, eyes still wild like an animal fresh off a kill.

But when he sees you— that violence quiets.

“...You good, baby?” His voice drops. Gentle, like the softness was always meant for you and no one else. He walks over, still panting, grabbing your chin with his blood-stained fingers and tilting your face to inspect the damage. “Did he hurt you bad? Fuck, I should’ve ripped his goddamn hands off—”

You shake your head. “I’m okay now.”

He exhales slow. Then kisses your forehead, lips lingering like a silent promise.

But when he pulls back, he’s already turning over his shoulder. “I’m not done with him.”

★ GOJO SATORU

You stumble back, almost losing your footing—and before your brain can process what just happened, there’s a hand on your waist, steadying you.

Gojo’s fingers curl protectively around you, his other hand gently brushing your hair behind your ear. He’s silent for a moment, unnervingly still, before he presses the softest kiss to your temple.

“Baby, stay right here, alright?” Then he turns.

His usual smirk is still there, but something’s different. It doesn’t reach his eyes. The guy who pushed you barely has time to say a word before Gojo’s already in front of him.

“Wow, shoving people smaller than you?” Gojo says with a mock laugh, “That’s cute. What’s next, kicking puppies?” And then— Crack.

His fist slams right into the boy’s jaw, and he drops like a bag of bricks.

Gojo adjusts his sunglasses, like that didn’t just happen. “Oops. My hand slipped.”

He turns back to you, grin bright as the sun. “You okay, sweetheart?” You nod, a little breathless.

“Cool, cool. Wanna grab some ice cream? I think you deserve a treat. That guy’s jaw sure got one.”

★ FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

You yelp when someone pulled your hair. It’s not just the pain—it’s the shock. But the guy doesn’t get to enjoy your reaction for long. Megumi's already there, eyes blazing, hands grabbing the guy by the collar and shoving him back so hard he stumbles.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Megumi growls.

Before the guy can even defend himself, Megumi grabs his hair and yanks it downward, hard.

“You think that shit’s funny? Huh?” he snaps, voice dangerously low. “Pulling someone like that—what are you, five?”

He drags the guy down, practically hissing insults with every breath. “You slimy, brainless waste of air. You’re lucky I don’t throw you off a roof right now.”

And then—slam—he pushes the guy to the ground. Hard. Spits out a final, “Pathetic,” before dusting off his hands and turning to you.

The anger drains from his face in an instant.

“Hey… are you okay?” His hands hover before they gently cup your cheek, checking if you’re hurt. “Did he pull too hard? God, I swear people like that don’t deserve to breathe—”

“I’m fine,” you say quietly.

But he doesn’t let it go. He slips his hand in yours, squeezing. “Come on. Let’s go home. I’m not letting anyone else near you today.”

★ GETO SUGURU

It wasn’t even subtle. A full, deliberate splash of red punch, drenching your shirt, staining your chest. You freeze in shock, blinking down at the mess—

And Suguru sees red.

Without hesitation, he grabs the nearest lunch tray—full of food—and storms toward the guy who did it. The boy barely turns before Suguru slams the tray into his face, sandwich and all. The cafeteria gasps. Suguru leans in, towering, voice low and venomous.

“You. Fucking. Monkey.” He drops the tray. “Stupid, brainless animal. Is that how you get off? Staining what you’ll never have?”

The guy tries to stammer, backing away with mashed potatoes on his face, but Suguru just glares him down with pure disgust before turning to you.

“Oh, baby…” His tone flips completely. Gentle. Sweet. He takes a napkin and carefully wipes the juice off your arm. “Hold on, I’ve got extra shirts in the car.” He brushes your damp hair from your face, eyes soft now. “Let’s get you changed, yeah, doll?”

You nod, a little stunned by how fast it all happened.

He wraps an arm around you, guiding you away from the mess, shielding you with his body. “You’re not walking through this place drenched in sugar."

[madehellline]

B-B-BOYFRIEND!

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

scenario: he wants that cookie so effing bad but reader is oblivious to it all.

clueless.

you were damn clueless about what you were so sure you wanted.

look. bakugou didn’t mean to overhear unlike other times (ehem the sports festival) but you weren’t really being quite about it. often complaining to the other girls about how you’re looking for a boyfriend, how you want someone to be there for you yet no one seems interested.

mina in particular would glance over where he sat, laughing at your obliviousness. pointing out your blindness to the fact that someone IS interested but you waved it off like a fool as if he doesn’t cook your favorite food each time when he’s assigned dinner duty, as if he doesn’t walk by the road so you’re on the safer side, as if he doesn’t let you ramble whatever it is you wanted to talk about listening genuinely and how if it were anyone else he’d walk away without a second thought. yet you can’t see all the lengths he’s going through just to show you how capable he is to fulfill that role.

it’s getting to the point where he thinks you don’t like him specifically because how can you not get it? are you avoiding him by pretending not to know on purpose to lightly let him down?

fuck, he even talked about his situation with his self proclaimed friends and they all told him to just fess up to you but damn it do you make him feel like a fool himself.

“dude why don’t you ask her yourself?” sero genuinely asked, wondering why his strong headed friend who doesn’t hesitate in the face of danger become so suddenly hesitant when it came to you.

“yeah! be a manly man and just do it.” the red headed boy spoke all fired up, patting the unshaken boy on the back whose face never seemed to cease from its frown.

“what? don’t tell me you’re scared kacchan?” kaminari teased and for what’s probably the hundredth time he got blown up by bakugou’s quirk, again, he really never learns his lesson.

so when the end of the year party eventually comes up you find yourself cornered by the explosive boy. dragged firmly away from the crowd of your peers, looking at you with angered brows and an upset pout. you supposed he tried to look indifferent and unaffected but he looked like anything but.

“what’s up bakugou?” you asked smiling up at his sharp expression.

“you’re blind as fuck.”

“what the— not even a hello???” you asked incredulously at his unprompted comment.

“shit. okay wait, let me think. you are unaware of things you should be aware of.”

…blink…..blink...blink

“is this about the homework I totally failed? I told you not to bring it up bakubro—“

“no and don’t call me that!” he shouted, popping a red vein.

“why??!”

“because I don’t want to be your ‘bro’”

“what. you don’t want to be friends anymore?” you wobbly asked, eyes watering like that one emoji you always fucking send him. for instance,

messages

you: can you help me prepare for the test plz

katkat: where

you: wait actually I just remembered you and kiri were gonna study together

katkat: we’re not

you: I heard you two plan it after class?

katkat: he planned it

you: can you ask kiri if I could join then 🥹

katkat: no because I’m coming to your room, get your shit ready.

you: so no kirishima? (➤)

you: so (➤)

you: kk pal!

katkat: don’t call me that.

messages

katkat: mina saw you.

katkat: said you looked upset or something.

you: no I’m fine!!!

you: totally not crying over being stood up or whatever. 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

katkat: that business class hataro shitsuko was a loser anyway.

you: it’s shizuku lol

katkat: just come over.

you: wait how did you know who (➤)

you: wait (➤)

you: wa (➤)

you: okay bae

messages

katkat <3: I’m not getting you that mochi

you: please I want you

katkat <3: what?

you: to get it for me PLEASSSEEEE 🥹 🥹

katkat <3: …

katkat <3: fine.

you: yayyyyyyyy

you: I want a specific flavor though.

katkat <3: I know what it is dumbass, I’ll see you later.

you: can you look for (➤)

you: THANK YOU!!

and many more but none of that ever clicked in your mind and so here you two were.

“no I want to be more than that.” he spoke seriously, red eyes set firmly on yours.

“don’t tell me….” you looked to the side shedding a tear as you leaned behind the wall further.

finally you understood.

“you want to be best fri—“

“FUCK NO! WE’RE NOT DOING THAT SHIT SO I’M JUST GONNA SAY IT.” he exasperatedly yelled, grabbing both your shoulders. breathing in once and out he spoke loud and clear, the feelings he held close and dear.

“I WANT YOU, YOU DAMN IDIOT! LET ME BE YOUR BOYFRIEND!!!”

“what?” you stared at him all startled and wide eyed as your mouth pulled downwards and eyes squinted to tears as you began to cry.

“what the— why are you crying!? do you hate me that bad?” bakugou asked hiding his hurt by wiping your tears away with his thumb as he gently held your face.

“no I want you too!!!! I just never thought you felt that way about me.” you whined planting your face in his chest.

“yeah no shit.”

“what?” you asked, slightly pulling away.

“nothing.” he answered shoving your face back in his body with one hand, relived that you actually felt the same way all this time.

inspo: “don't be scared to come put your trust in me can't you see all I really want to be is your boyfriend.” — Big Time Rush

©windyremedy

[madehellline]

ᴛʜᴇʏ ꜰᴏᴜɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴜʀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʀʏɪɴɢ… ꜱᴏ ᴛʜᴇʏ ɢᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀᴇᴠᴇɴɢᴇ.

Sukuna, Toji, Gojo, Suguru, Megumi, and Nanami.

Genre, fluff. Notes, I loveeeee this request!!!

★ SUKUNA

The second he sees your split lip, the way you flinch when he reaches for you — Sukuna goes cold. No questions. No hesitation. “The fuck touched you?”

You manage to whisper, “He showed up. Said he just wanted to talk—then he grabbed me.”

Sukuna doesn’t answer. He’s already moving. Grabs your phone. Finds the number. Dials.

When the bastard answers, Sukuna’s voice is a low, vibrating growl.

“Say goodbye to breathing, you fucking dog.”

He’s gone for two hours. When he comes back, he says nothing. Just throws a bloodied hoodie into the sink and holds you from behind while you cry.

Days later, you run into your ex. He’s limping. Bruised. Covered in bandages. When he sees you, he nearly drops his coffee. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to. I—I was stupid.”

Sukuna’s standing behind you. He doesn’t say a word — just smiles like a devil who already dragged someone to hell.

★ TOJI FUSHIGURO

You’re on the floor, crying, hand against your cheek. The second Toji sees you, he kneels — lifts your chin. Sees the bruise. Then stands.

“What happened.” Not a question. A demand.

You sob it out. “He pushed me. Said I ruined his life. I—I couldn’t stop him.”

Toji doesn’t blink. Doesn’t shout. Just mutters: “Give me the address.”

He leaves without his jacket. No threats. No dramatic words. Comes back two hours later, shirt bloody, knuckles raw, breathing like he just finished a workout.

Next morning, the news talks about a break-in. A man in the ER with three broken ribs, one missing tooth, and a concussion. Police “found no suspects.”

Toji hands you a coffee that morning. Says nothing about the blood on his hand. Just: “You good?” You nod. “Good.”

★ GOJO SATORU

He sees you hunched over in the corner of the living room — makeup smeared, hoodie hiding your face. Then he sees the bruise under your eye.

Gojo doesn’t joke. Doesn’t smile.

“Who.”

You barely get it out. “He came over. Said he wanted to talk… and then shoved me.”

Gojo nods. Quiet. Almost calm. “Alright.”

You hear the click of his phone. Hear him say one word: a name. That’s all.

Hours later, your ex’s car gets mysteriously destroyed. Tires gone. Windshield shattered. Photos surface of him running shirtless from some unknown explosion in a towel.

When Gojo returns, he ruffles your hair.

“Hey,” he says. “Wanna get pancakes?” You blink. He grins. “Nothing makes trauma disappear like whipped cream and karma.”

★ SUGURU GETO

He walks in, sees the ice pack on your arm, your swollen cheek — and everything in him goes quiet. Scarily quiet.

“He did this to you?”

You nod, hands trembling. “I didn’t expect him to be so angry—I just told him I was seeing someone.”

Suguru lifts your hand, kisses your knuckles gently — and then stands.

He doesn’t threaten. He doesn’t warn.

He executes.

A week later, your ex is jobless, blacklisted, and his apartment mysteriously flooded. His tires are flat. His door is painted with the word “coward” in red.

Suguru never admits it. Just hugs you tighter that night.

“You’re not his to hurt,” he whispers. “You’re mine to protect.”

★ NANAMI KENTO

You’re sitting at the table, trying to hide your wrist with your sleeve. But Nanami sees. He always sees.

“What happened.” Calm. Sharp.

You try to downplay it. He leans forward. Pulls your hand into his gently.

“Tell me.”

You do. You tell him everything. The shove. The insults. The bruise.

Nanami’s eyes darken. His grip tightens. He doesn’t raise his voice — but every word feels like a blade.

“I’m handling this.”

And he does. Legally. Brutally. In a way that leaves your ex financially strangled, humiliated in front of his boss, and with a lawsuit hovering over his head. And no one can trace it back to Nanami.

When you ask how it happened, he just pours you tea and says:

“You’re safe. That’s what matters.”

★ MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

You’re crying in the bathroom. He knocks gently before walking in. When he sees the bruises, the blood on your sleeve, he freezes.

“Who did that to you?” You shake your head. “I don’t want you to get in trouble—” He steps closer. Grabs your chin gently.

“Tell me who.”

You whisper the name. He leaves without another word.

Next day? Your ex shows up at urgent care with a black eye, cracked ribs, and a broken nose. Says it was a mugging. Won’t talk to cops. Won’t press charges.

You never ask Megumi about it. But he shows up later that night, kisses the crown of your head, and says:

“He won’t bother you again.”

[madehellline]

ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ʏᴇʟʟꜱ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ — ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇʏ ꜱᴇᴇ ɪᴛ

Gojo, Toji, Sukuna, Megumi, and Suguru.

Genre, angst to fluff. Notes, another request by a anon, this was sooo fun to make!!!

★ GOJO SATORU

It starts at your mom’s house — a quiet Sunday lunch. The table’s full of food. You reach for the potatoes and your dad scoffs.

“No wonder you can’t lose weight.”

You laugh it off, tense. But it doesn’t stop there. Ten minutes later, he raises his voice about your job, your choices, your “attitude.” You apologize. Try to explain. He talks over you. Loud.

“You never listen! You always think you’re right!”

You try to shrink down in your chair. And that’s when Gojo speaks — calm, light, but deadly.

“Oh, my bad. I thought we came here for lunch. Not a free trial of emotional abuse.” He leans back, throws an arm over your shoulder. “You always talk to her like she’s garbage, or is today just special?”

Your dad glares. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Satoru smiles, wide and toothy. “I know exactly what I’m talking about. You think raising your voice makes you right. It doesn’t. It makes you an asshole.”

He turns to you, brushes your cheek.

“Wanna go? I’ve got better food and people who don’t treat you like shit.”

You leave. And for the rest of the night, he gives you nothing but gentleness. Every time you look shaken, he squeezes your hand and mutters, “He doesn’t get to talk to you like that ever again.”

★ MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

It happens at a small family BBQ. You’re arguing with your older brother, quietly, until he explodes.

“Why do you always have to be such a goddamn burden?!” he shouts. “You think the world owes you something?”

You stand frozen. Everyone else goes quiet. Your chest tightens — and then you feel Megumi step beside you.

He doesn’t raise his voice. Just stares your brother down.

“Don’t ever talk to her like that again.”

Your brother scoffs. “Who the hell are you?”

Megumi steps forward, deadpan. “The guy who’s been watching you treat her like shit for fifteen minutes. And the one who’ll make sure it never happens again.”

You tug his sleeve. “Megumi—”

But he keeps going. “It’s real easy to look tough when you’re yelling at someone smaller than you. You wanna try that again with someone your size?”

The tension gets unbearable. No one moves. And then, finally, your brother mutters something and walks off.

Later, when you're quiet in the car, Megumi murmurs, “Don’t ever apologize for needing me to speak up. I’d do it every time.”

★ RYOMEN SUKUNA

It’s after dinner. Your cousin’s been picking at you all night. Little jabs. Then comes the explosion.

“You’re such a fucking child,” she hisses in the hallway. “You’ll never be enough. That’s why everyone leaves you.”

You freeze. Sukuna’s standing behind you. He doesn’t ask questions. Doesn’t check on you.

He steps forward and says, flatly:

“You ever speak to her like that again, and I will make sure you wake up with a fucking toothless mouth.”

Your cousin gapes. “Excuse me—?”

He laughs darkly. “Oh, you heard me. Say another word. Please. I dare you.” He steps in her space. “Insult her again and I’ll put you through that fucking wall.”

You pull on his arm. “Kuna—stop—”

But he doesn’t look away from your cousin. “Say sorry. Now.”

When she mutters it and runs off, Sukuna finally turns to you. Wipes your tears with a calloused thumb.

“She doesn’t talk to you again. Not unless it’s on her knees.”

★ TOJI FUSHIGURO

You’re at your aunt’s place when it happens. She’s been criticizing you for an hour. Career. Clothes. Money. Life. Then her voice sharpens.

“You’re nothing like your sister. At least she did something with her life.”

You swallow hard, smile politely — but Toji catches the way your hands tremble under the table.

He sets down his drink. Pushes the chair back. Looks her right in the eye.

“You talk a lotta shit for someone whose kid just got expelled last month.”

She blinks. “Excuse me?”

He keeps going. “You’re real brave when you’re shitting on someone better than you. You jealous of her? That it?”

Your aunt gasps. “How dare you—”

“No. How dare you talk to her like that. She’s worth ten of you, and you know it.”

You’re frozen. Embarrassed. But Toji grabs your hand. “We’re leaving. You don’t need this shit. Let ‘em rot.”

Later in the car, he rubs your thigh, jaw clenched. “You say the word, I’ll go back and really say what I wanted to.”

★ GETO SUGURU

You’re helping set the table when your uncle suddenly snaps at you.

“You don’t do shit around here! You think you’re too good for this family now?”

Your mouth falls open. “I didn’t—”

“You didn’t what? You’re lazy. Always have been. Nothing but trouble.”

Suguru doesn’t yell. Doesn’t blink.

But he sets the fork down. Turns slowly.

“Talk to her like that again, and we’ll have a real problem.”

Your uncle sneers. “Stay out of this. She needs to hear it.”

“She’s heard enough of your bitterness for a lifetime,” Suguru replies, calm but deadly. “You treat her like shit because she became someone you never could.”

He steps closer. “She’s not the disappointment. You are.”

Your uncle mutters something under his breath and walks away. Suguru pulls you aside, tucks your hair behind your ear.

“You okay?”

You nod slowly.

He smiles. “Good. Because if he ever raises his voice at you again, I’m teaching your family what real disappointment feels like.”

[madehellline]

. ۫ᯓᡣ𐭩 jjk cast ✧ gn reader ˚₊‧꒰ა kisses gone wrong ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

˖ ꯴ ⌇ how wrong could kissing your favourite sorcerers go? well.

໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Satoru Gojo ⌇ exploded all the lightbulbs in the house the second your lips met his. his defense? “babbyyy, I haven't seen you all week.” as he's slumping over you like he didn't just subject you both to darkness for the night. still trying to get more of your kisses and turning your head to him all needy. “now gimme more before I blackout all of tokyo.”

໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Suguru Geto ⌇ kissed him when you found him all slumped over his desk. immediate “bleugh! sugu —" what the fuck was that? the taste of curses of course. he apologised that he couldn't get to his gum in time before you decided to show him some lovin'. “so tell me, how'd your first curse taste?” with that shiteating grin that told you he wasn't really sorry.

໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Shoko Ieiri ⌇ why did you think turning her head while she was mid smoke and kissing her was a good idea? you were trying to be all sexy and mysterious but now you're coughing your lungs out and she's gently rubbing your back even with the teasing smile on her face. "what - the fuck is in those things!" she'd only chuckle. "my will to live, horrendous I know." before she smooched your cheek.

໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Kento Nanami ⌇ he was sooo tired from work and your kisses relax him more than anything. you greeted him at the door with a smooch and felt him ease into you, then limp — and before you know it you're stumbling back trying to hold his weight toppling over you with panicked yelps. "nanami! hey hey!" he'd wake up quickly with a jolt and quickly brace both of you, frazzled, confused, before you manage to drag him to bed.

໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Ryomen Sukuna ⌇ tried to be all cute and sly, straddled him on his throne and kissed him with a feral heat that he immediately returned. hands on your hips yanking you closer, pressing him up into you but then . . . seems his second mouth got a bit too excited. "uh —" you pulled back to watch the second tongue wriggling on your tummy and wetting your shirt with kisses. sukuna was just about ready to die.

© 𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒆 . no copying, translation or plagiarism authorised

[madehellline]

At any given moment, i am thinking about Apex Alpha!Ushijima.

Not just alpha. But apex Alpha.

It’s pretty clear even from a distance that Ushijima is like no other alpha around him. Taller than any of his fellows, undoubtedly broader, he takes up space in a way the others fail to. His face is set in a perpetual blank look. Something in his expression screams ‘watch out’.

He also has an excruciating presence. When he enters a room, the scent of every other alpha pales in comparison. Even before he presented, Ushijima had an aura about him, so no one was surprised when he presented not only as an alpha, but an apex.

Shiratorizawa is proud to have an Apex in their ranks, considering how rare a breed they are. Ushijima is a star pupil, a star athlete. Shiratorizawa’s golden boy. The alphas revere him. They can’t even bring themselves to have a jealous streak when it comes to him. All that exists is envy. And the knowledge that they can never be him.

And the omegas. Oh lord. The omegas throw themselves at his feet. Often figuratively, and sometimes even literally. An apex alpha would be the ideal mate. The very pinnacle of the food chain. Any omega who he ended up with Ushijima would be the luckiest little thing on the planet. What a rare luck it would be, bagging an apex alpha as your mate?

Imagine how the school reels in surprise when Ushijima sets his sights on you.

You are, by no means, special. You are not a prime omega. Your scent, while undoubtedly omega, is light. It is not an omega scent that reels alphas in with how rich it is. Your stature isn’t particularly impressive for an omega either, though it isn’t bad. There is no way to describe it. You are just….. ordinary.

So you are confused as all hell when the king of alphas, an apex, presents you with a delicate bracelet one day. He had always been friendly with you, and you assumed it was just him being kind to the students of Shiratorizawa as part of his makeshift pack. But this, a thin, shiny chain with a single heart-shaped charm, made his intentions clear. This was a courting gift, there was no two ways about it.

You saw the apex alpha smile for the first time when you accepted his gift. And it solidified the fact that you accepted his advances.

Being courted by an apex alpha was also an interesting experience. Different to other alphas. His gifts were extremely personalised, stuff that he knew you needed or would be very useful. He was a man of few words, but his actions were glaring, they seemed to scream his intentions at you loud and clear. His aura and scent were so strong that there wasn’t even any need for him to scent you or your things. Five minutes in his presence meant that everyone would know where you had been for hours afterward. Despite being so physically huge, his touch was gentle and comforting. And slowly, you grew so attached to him that it hurt to be without.

Overtime, you realised that a lot of what ushijima did was not his status but rather just him. He was naturally so firm yet gentle. His gifts being so practical was just how his mind worked. Being a good person and a good leader was not because he was an apex, but because he was….. Ushijima Wakatoshi.

It was so easy to love him. And to choose him as your mate. He was truly the ideal. And every second of every day you were grateful that he had chosen you, for whatever reason, to be his omega.

Just the thought of Apex Alpha!Ushijima is so near and dear to me. If anyone can be an Apex, it’s him.

[madehellline]

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.”