w0rm3y

[w0rm3y]

Delirium Fed Delusions- R. Sukuna

overview: you're struggling to comprehend your alliance with your husband, Sukuna. warnings: MDNI, explicit smut, including the belly mouth, yay, biting, mentions of cannibalism and death, but it's sukuna, so, yk... also borderline stockholm syndrome and insinuations of kidnapping, manipulation, and toxic relationships wc: 2.6k a/n: honestly, I had a completely different thing planned out for this where I was going to talk about the duality of Sukuna, but idk, I just didn't get there? So enjoy a drabble where Sukuna essentially rage baits reader lol.

Sukuna was, for all intents and purposes, an evil person. But just as he was an evil person, he was a good husband.

Yes, he slaughtered people for fun, but he also played with your hair until you fell asleep.

Yes, he used his voice to say the most heinous things, but he also handed you the most heartfelt compliments you’d ever heard in your life.

And, yes, sometimes that metallic taste of blood still lingered on his tongue when he kissed you, but he always kissed you so sweetly.

He was good and evil, but in a way that you fell in love with almost instantly. Your marriage to Sukuna was like a giant game of picking and choosing your battles, at least that’s how it was in the beginning. 

If there was one phrase that encapsulated your husband, it was ‘compassion with suffering’. 

And if there was one phrase that encapsulated your relationship, it was ‘lean toward the light’.

And you’d only adopted this mentality after learning to accept and understand Sukuna as a person, rather than the monster everyone painted him out to be. 

Yes, he ripped people apart, but why were they provoking him enough to hurt them in the first place?

Yes, he consumed innocent people, but the man has necessary bodily functions–he needs to eat.

Yes, he had a terrible case of a god-complex, but to you, Sukuna was a god. 

He was your god. 

If you lean toward the light, understand him as a person, and accept him for all his flaws, you’re left with one final thought: Sukuna didn’t do anything wrong.

Were you delusional? Yeah, probably, but Sukuna allowed you to live in delusion if it meant keeping you by his side and happy. Because even if he was evil, he still wanted to ensure your felicity. 

With Sukuna, delusion and delirium went hand in hand.

You were content. Sukuna was content. 

And his contentment promised your own.

It was a thousand-year-old cycle that could feed itself, ouroboros-style.

You didn’t realize it in the beginning, but after standing by him for this long, you began to grasp the concept of it, and you liked it. You liked it because it was created by Sukuna, and you liked everything that was created by Sukuna, and you remember everything that he’s created for you.

Thousands of years ago, you wouldn’t have dared question him about his choices and why he’s done such terrible things–why would you question a god that you’ve willingly put all of your faith in?

But curiosity is like an open sore that festers until it takes over your entire body with lethal infection, threatening to strike your heart at any time and force you to cave into your confusion. 

Why is he so horrible? Why did those people deserve to die? Why did he choose them to die? Why couldn’t he have let them go? Why didn’t he care when they screamed? Why can’t he be compassionate to everyone?  

Why did you deserve to outlive all of them? Why didn’t he kill you, too? Why are you still around? Why are you different?

“Why do you love me?” you asked him one evening while you both sat in front of the open shoji, soaking up the humid summer air that was wafting inside from the garden. The smoke from the kiseru in his hands tickled your nose when you glanced toward him, waiting for his answer. When you didn’t receive one, you dared to ask another. “Why was I good enough to be your wife? Why not the others?”

He brought the kiseru to his mouth, inhaling slowly–you knew it was done to piss you off, he understood just how impatient you could be sometimes when it came to your daily intake of delusion. After enough time had passed, leaving you almost frothing at the mouth for his answer, only then did he give in, but, of course, it wasn’t what you wanted to hear.

“What did I say the last time you asked me the same question?” he countered through plumes of smoke.

“I don’t remember.”

A twitch in the corner of his mouth alluded to his amusement, and that was all that gave it away, too. To anyone else, he looked almost bored, maybe even disgusted, but to you, he looked… content. 

“Of course, you don’t remember,” he groused, entirely elusive. 

He was always elusive. 

You tried again. “Why, Sukuna?”

“Why do you feel the need to question me?”

“Curiosity.”

“I see,” he hummed, dumping out the kiseru ashes into the grass below the edge of the engawa. Tapping out the excess, he continued, “If what you’re experiencing is curiosity, it’s not about the feelings I have for you. Save up your courage and ask me what you really want to know next time.”

Your lips curled into a scowl. “What does that mean?”

He didn’t answer you that night. Instead, he pushed himself to his feet and stepped inside. 

For the next few weeks, you did your best to live by his words, to impress him the next time your curiosity got the better of you.

“You’re exceptionally quiet these days,” he commented one evening after dinner. Like before, he’d invited you to sit on the engawa with him. While he used his kiseru, you watched him. “What is it you’re doing in that little head of yours?”

“Building courage,” you answered, tight-lipped.

“You’re rather slow at doing so. Am I so fearsome that it takes you this long to ask me a single question?” A frown twisted onto your mouth, the sight of it making him snicker. “I suppose I’ll assist you. What was your previous question?”

“Why do you love me?”

“And what question have you come to after that?” he asked, bringing the mouthpiece of the pipe to his mouth.

“Why haven’t you killed me?”

Smoke wafted out of the corners of his mouth as he contemplated the question before musing, “You’re getting closer.”

Frustration clawed at your insides. “Why can’t you just answer my questions as I ask them?”

“Because you already know the answers to these questions.” Sparing you a glance, you could see the amusement glimmering in his red eyes. Leaning in closer to you, he blew a plume of the thick smoke into your face as he asked, “What is it that my wife really wants to know?”

“Why do you love me?” you tried again, making him click his tongue in disapproval. 

“Who says that I love you at all?”

If you were frustrated before, you are angry now. “Do you not?”

“That’s not what I asked you.” He pulled back, settling himself a few inches away from you. “Who says I love you?”

Through gritted teeth, you answered, “You do.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“All the things that you do for me! All the things that you say to me! The fact that you haven’t killed me yet!” you exploded, though you hadn’t meant to. 

With a satisfied hum, he sucked on the kiseru again. “See? You already knew the answer.”

“But I want to know why!”

“Why, what?”

“Why am I still here?!”

“Why do you think?” If you weren’t terrified that he’d actually cut you into a thousand little pieces, you might’ve slapped him across the face. “Well?”

“Because you love me?” you offered, exasperated and exhausted. 

“There you go. You knew the answer to that question, too. Now look at how much breath we’ve both wasted on useless talk, all because you can’t figure out what it is that you really want to know.” A silence fell over you both as he finished smoking and dumped out the ashes. “Keep gathering courage, wife. You’re getting closer.”

The next time your curiosity began to bubble over, you were straddling his stomach, the monstrous mouth there licking you inside while the mouths on his hands sucked on your tits. He must’ve sensed your straying thoughts because the tongues that swirled your nipples were soon replaced with sharp teeth biting down, shocking you back into the present. 

You hissed sharply as your hands encircled his wrists to make him stop.

“This part is for you, you know,” he chided, his annoyance very evident.

“I know, m’sorry!” you gasped, pulling at his hands when the pressure increased. After a few seconds, the sting in your sensitive flesh eased up and was then soothed by the tongues again. 

“Take what I’m giving you, or we can move on, whether you’re prepared for it or not. Stop wasting my time-”

“Stop wasting mine!” you blurted out, shocking him enough to fall silent. Raising a brow, he stared at you, waiting for an explanation for your outburst while he gently tapped the skin on your chest, a sign that he was more pissed than he was letting on. “Why do you love me? Why haven’t you killed me?”

“Do you want me to kill you? Is that why you keep asking me? Because, if so, you are on the right path-”

“Why do you kill other people?”

The finger tapping on your chest stopped, and the murderous glint in his eyes softened. 

“A new question.”

A bit of hope flared in your chest that you might’ve finally figured it out that time, but the hope didn’t last too long.

“You know the answer to that, too. Let me ask you, so you can say it out loud, and hear it for yourself: why do I kill people, wife?”

You hesitated before saying, “Because you like it?”

“Because I like it,” he repeated, confirming your answer. “If you already knew, why did you ask?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Mm, I think I do. You’re trying to choose which side of your morals you should follow. The ones that every other human trails after like a lost puppy because it’s what they’ve been told to do, and the morals that I’ve shredded to pieces for you.” A twisted grin curled onto his face. “What? Did you think I’d say I kill people because I needed to? Because it was necessary for my survival? Is that going to make this easier for you?”

When you didn’t answer–because you couldn’t–he chuckled and grabbed your hips, pulling you flush against his stomach mouth. Your breathing hitched as the thick tongue filled you completely, the tip of it slovenly swirling over your cervix. 

“Would it make you feel better knowing the one who fucks you only kills in the most ethical of ways? Or that the mouth you’re riding now has only lapped at spilled blood when it's necessary?”

Your hands fell forward onto his chest to support yourself as a strangled moan left your lips. 

“I kill because it’s fun. I eat people because they taste good. And I do it all because I like it. The depravity of it amuses me because it can. No one can stop me, not with morals, not with strength, not even with that confused, fucked out look on your face right now. Understanding me isn’t going to grant you the cosmic knowledge of how you can change me–it won’t work. And understanding me and why I do the things that I do isn’t going to make you understand why you choose to love me, despite all the horrible things that I do.”

With the tight grip he had on your hips, he started grinding you against his stomach, watching your face morph and shift between pained and pleasured.

“But on some level, wife, you knew that, too. So, I’ll give you one more chance today to ask the question that you really want to know the answer to.”

He slowed the movement of his tongue inside you, giving you a chance to speak. When you gathered enough of your bearings to do so, you asked, “Why do you do bad things?”

He tutted at you and pulled you off his stomach to bring you to lie on your back beneath him. “Wrong question.”

“Can you just answer me?”

He took both of your legs into his hands and folded them back into the bed, leaning over you until his face was right above yours. 

“Why do you think I do bad things?”

“I don’t know-”

“You do know, because we’ve been over this before. You keep asking like my answer will change, but it won’t.” He forced his cock into you then, pulling a pained whimper from you. “I do bad things because I like to.”

“Why do you like to?”

“I don’t know. Why do you like to lie on your back and spread your legs for me?” You turned your face away from him, not bothering to give him an answer; his question was a rhetorical one, anyway. But then he grabbed your face, bringing your eyes back to his. “I’ve never needed to give you a reason to stay with me, and I never will. But if it makes you feel better, I wouldn’t let you leave even if you wanted to. So stop trying to find an out, I’m not giving you one-”

“I’m not-”

“You are.” With his fingers pressing deeply into your cheeks, he leaned forward, kissing the pout that had formed on your lips. “It’s to be expected. You’re scared, no matter how much you try to convince yourself you’re not.”

“I don’t want to leave you-”

“But you’re looking for a reason to stay, and I’m not giving you one, but I’m not letting you leave, either.” The pressure of his fingers on your cheeks lessened as you came to the next question that was plaguing your mind. He must’ve seen it in your eyes because he leaned back, saying, “Let me hear it.”

“Why are you a bad person?”

His quiet snickering filled the air following your question. 

“Because being a good person is boring,” he answered, half-heartedly, as if he were merely entertaining your conversation. It was his way of signaling he was done talking about it, and your theory was proved correct when seconds later, he covered your mouth with his hand. “And I don’t have to be a good person for you to love me.”

You didn’t bring it up again. You didn’t have to because what he said seemed to satiate this burning, confused feeling within you just enough that your curiosity wouldn’t boil over. However, the pot was left above the fire, the sore was still splayed open and infected, and your questions were still there. 

Constantly.

Why does he love you?

Why hasn’t he killed you?

Why does he kill other people?

Why is he a bad person?

…

Why have you stayed?

Shouldn’t you be fighting to get away from him? 

And doesn’t the fact that you’re willingly staying by his side mean that you’re just as bad a person as he is?

The next time your courage was high, you asked him that.

You had just laid down with him in bed, ready to sleep for the night, but that question was pounding in your head, making sleep impossible.

“‘Kuna,” you called out, but didn’t turn to face him. His fingers that were pressed into your waist twitched, letting you know that he was awake. “Am I a bad person?”

His huff hit the back of your neck. 

“Not to me.” You felt him shift behind you until his hand pulled you back to his chest. “Do you think you’re a bad person?”

“A little,” you admitted. “You do bad things and I love you for it, but I don’t know why. You’re a bad person, Sukuna, but for some reason, you’re a good husband, and it doesn’t make sense. I just want to know why I’m so different for you. I’m not looking for an out or a reason to stay–I want to be here, but I don’t know why.”

“Why do you need to know?”

You shrugged. “Just want to make sure I have a purpose.”

You felt his lips curve into a small smile against the back of your neck. “You have a purpose. You’re my companion.”

[w0rm3y]

For my fellow JJK woman enjoyers

[w0rm3y]

Five: Rewired For Humanity- S. Gojo

CataclysmicWeapon!Gojo x Engineer!Reader ˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ cw: brief nonconsensual touching, just a little tho wc: 2k a/n: <3 ||Masterlist|| <Last< >Next>

“You stole him from the facility,” Nobara stated, staring down at Satoru and Yuji in disbelief. “Like you actually stole him-”

“He’s alive and well in my living room, Nobara! I think that’s been established,” you snapped, dragging your hand down your face, collapsing onto the couch as the exhaustion of the day started to creep in. “Is it too soon to self-diagnose myself as a kleptomaniac?”

She disregarded your question in exchange for her own. “That’s why you seemed so nervous during the debriefing today, isn’t it? Because they were talking about you?”

You glanced up at Nobara, exasperated already. “Obviously! Do you know what that was like? To listen to their plan to track me down and find me like I’m some kind of criminal?”

“Well…”

“Shut. It.” Your eyes strayed to Satoru, who was watching the entire scene unfold in silence, then to Yuji. When your sights locked onto one another, the giddy smile he had on his face started to fall when he noticed your glare. “I trusted you not to say anything.”

“Your mistake. Yuji can’t be trusted with secrets,” Megumi added, circling Satoru as he inspected him. 

“That’s not true,” Yuji defended, “I can be trusted. With some things.”

You groaned, leaning your face forward into your hands.

“Besides,” he continued, “It’s not like you guys are going to say anything, right? I mean, we always talked about sneaking Gojo out of there. Now the hard part has already been done for us.”

“Don’t be an idiot. The hard part is making sure he isn’t found,” Megumi said, bringing himself to stand right in front of Satoru again. “They want you to turn on that secondary tracking chip.”

 “I know,” Satoru answered, “But I’m not going to. I don’t want to go back.”

“They aren’t really giving you the option. They’re rewiring Suguru to become a scout–they’re sending him out to find you.”

“I’m not worried about him.” Satoru dismissed Megumi’s concern with a wave of his hand. “Even if they find me, it’s not as if they can force me to go back.”

“Right, but they can still take me to jail, so let’s not push it,” you spoke up then, “We need to keep you hidden. At least for the time being until we know more about what the Syndicate is doing.”

“You’re seriously not going to take him back?” Nobara asked, earning the scoff of both you and Yuji. “What? You’re risking serious felony charges-”

“He said he doesn’t want to go back,” you interjected, forcing her to fall quiet. “Look, I understand if you don’t want any part of this–you weren’t supposed to be dragged into it anyway-” You threw a pointed glare at the snitch. “-I won’t force you to be involved. And if I get caught, I would never say anything to them about you– any of you. You don’t even have to help me, just please don’t tell the Syndicate.”

She scoffed, “I’m offended that you think I’d do that. Yuji was right; we all wanted him out of there. I just think it’s a little strange that you’re so eager about harboring a cataclysmic weapon when you’ve only known him for a couple of days.”

“I do have a heart, thank you.”

“Maybe too big of one.” She turned to Satoru to inspect him like Megumi had done, circling around his form with an impressed hum. “I will say, it’s incredible you were able to fix him up this well in such a short amount of time. He looks nice.”

You preened under the praise. “Thank you.”

“So… what are you going to do with him?” Yuji asked.

“I guess just let him live as a normal human. Well, as normal as he can be given the situation. We’re working on developing his emotions right now and figuring out his likes and dislikes. Speaking of, do any of you know who programmed him to have such a sweet tooth?”

“Oh, no one,” Yuji answered, “He’s able to form his own preferences for things in order to keep himself stimulated. It’s a safety measure to ensure he doesn’t go inactive randomly. But as far as we knew, he didn’t have any preferences set.”

You suppose that makes sense. After all, the first time he tried gelato was with you, so that must’ve kick-started it.

“So, we’re starting with a blank slate.” Glancing at Satoru, you forced a smile to convince yourself that everything was fine. “It should be a great way to… keep our minds off the obvious conflict.”

“This will be so fun,” Yuji cheered, too enthusiastic for the tense atmosphere, but you weren’t one to rain on someone’s parade. Maybe you needed to take a page out of Yuji’s book and just go with the flow. “I have so many movies I wanted to show him, but they’d never let me bring any in. We should start there, and we can do it right now!”

“Not right now.” Your dismissal caused him to deflate. “Sorry. It’s late. I’m tired and I want to run a diagnostic test to make sure nothing is malfunctioning internally before I go to bed. But you can come back tomorrow!” you rushed to add when Yuji started looking a little too sad for your liking. “Tomorrow is Friday, you all can stay late, watch movies, do whatever–if that’s okay with you.”

You directed the last part toward Satoru, who nodded. “It’s okay.”

“Good. Then it's settled, you can all come back tomorrow.” You began ushering them as delicately as possible toward your door. You really weren’t trying to be an asshole about it, but it was late and there had been something weighing heavily on your mind all day. “It’s my turn to get us coffee in the morning, so text me your orders.”

As soon as all three of them were standing outside your front door, you gave them one last goodbye before shutting the door and turning to face Satoru. He blinked up at you, waiting for you to say something, and there was so much that you wanted to, yet you couldn’t find the words. Per usual, you were never good at coming up with the right things to say. 

“Can you stand up?” you asked, pushing away from the door to take your place in front of him. 

Rather than asking for your reasoning, he stood to his feet, towering over you by quite a bit, but you didn’t let the difference in height intimidate you as you quickly wrapped your arms around his torso and arms.

In hindsight, you probably should have asked for permission, or at the very least, warned him that you were going to touch him. Who’s to say he didn’t have some sort of programmed response that would cause him to snap your neck the second you made contact with his sensors?

But you couldn’t help it. You needed to hug him, to give him comfort and express how sorry you felt that he had to endure being locked up in a little glass box and subjected to being treated like a tool. 

Words were hard for you sometimes–hugs weren’t, and this was the best way you could express your sympathy right now, even if he didn’t understand what sympathy was to begin with. 

And as it turns out, he didn’t understand what a hug was, either. 

“What are you doing?” You could almost hear the confused disdain in his voice, but he made no attempt to pry you away from him. 

“Hugging you.”

“Why?”

In the embrace, you shrugged. “Because I don’t think you’ve ever been hugged before. Everyone deserves to feel one at least once.”

“I see…” his sentence trailed off, silence enveloping you both for a few more moments before he spoke again. “What is its purpose?”

“Well, it can be used for a lot of different things. Usually, it’s to express happiness or to offer comfort to someone who needs it,” you answered without missing a beat. 

Your cheek pressed against his chest, and it was then that you noticed he was warm. 

A heating and cooling system must’ve been another feature that was added to his hardware because you knew what the inside of his structure was made of, and it was cold metal. It shouldn’t have felt so… real.

“How long do these typically last?”

“As long as you’d like them to.” You gave him a gentle squeeze before dropping your arms. “How was that?”

“Good.” 

He paused then, almost as if he were buffering. Just as you were about to ask him if he was okay, his arms cinched in around your waist and raised you off the ground. Wasting no time, he mirrored your hug, even going as far as pushing his face against your chest, too. Except your chest was a bit more… cushioned than Satoru’s, and definitely more sensitive. 

As his cheek nestled right against your breasts, you swallowed back your embarrassed gasp and tried to keep from letting an intense heat overtake your cheeks. If it did, he’d no doubt question you about it. 

“What are you doing?” Your voice was just above a whisper.

“Reciprocating the hug.” You wanted to ask why, but then his touch curled in tighter around you, his cheek pressed deeper into your breasts, flustering you too much even to speak. “I like these.”

And if you were flustered before, you were mortified now. 

Surely, he wasn’t talking about your boobs. He may have lacked a filter with the things he said, but complimenting your body parts would be too much. 

“W-What?”

“The hugs,” he answered, “I like them.”

You let out a breath of relief when he said that, bringing your hands to his hair to card your fingers through it. 

“Okay. Good. That’s… good.” 

You almost laughed at yourself for even thinking that he would say something so uncouth-

“I like these, too,” he added, bringing one of his hands up to grope your chest. Instinctively, you slapped at his hand, but it was met with unwavering resistance. However, it did cause him to pull back from your chest. “What?”

“You can’t say that! And you can’t touch me like that!”

“Why not? You did it to me.”

“Because… that’s different!”

“What’s different?” His fingertips sank into your flesh again, pulling from you a hiss of humiliation. “Besides the density and size, of course-”

“No! No–don’t say those things–put me down!”

“I don’t want to.”

You balked at him, “You have to! I said so.”

He shook his head, almost tutting, “No. You said hugs last as long as I want them to.”

“This isn’t what I meant! This isn’t a hug, you’re just restraining me-”

“Sounds like the same thing.” He removed his hand from your chest and placed it back around your waist. “I won’t touch you there anymore since you seem so sensitive to it, but I’m not letting go of you.”

“But-”

Before you could get out another word, he slumped onto the couch with you in his lap. He had such a tight hold on you that all you could do was let him move you around. Eventually, he had you positioned facing away from him in his lap, your back pressed firmly to his chest with his arms secured around you, and his chin resting on top of your head. 

It truly made you feel so fucking small.

“Now we can hug and watch TV at the same time,” he quipped, grabbing the remote from the side table at the edge of the couch.

“This isn’t a hug.”

“Feels like a hug.” 

If you didn’t already know that he didn’t understand human mannerisms, you might assume that he was contradicting you, but you knew better. He wasn't defying you, or even trying to piss you off. 

He was just trying to learn.

“It isn’t. This is… cuddling.”

Satoru was silent as he processed the information you’d given him before you heard a monotone hum. 

“I like this, too. Maybe even more than hugging, since we can multitask. It’s an efficient form of contact.”

It was innocent, you knew that, but it wasn’t appropriate.

But how were you supposed to explain that it was inappropriate when he liked the contact in such an innocent way?

He navigated through your streaming platforms and pulled up the episode of Desperate Housewives that you’d left off on last night. Setting the remote aside, his hand returned to slink around your midsection, just in time for the opening credits to start up. 

“You’re tense,” he muttered after the first scene drew to a close.

“A little,” you admitted.

“Why? Think I might kill you?” That thought-provoking question had you tensing even more, something Satoru noticed immediately. “I wouldn’t. I have no reason to.”

A wry laugh escaped you. “If I gave you a reason, would you?”

“Possibly. It depends on what you did and why. But as of right now, you’ve done nothing wrong that would call for your execution, so stop being so tense.”

Easier said than done.

But you had to admit that he was being sweet, that nothing about this felt inappropriate, even if it inherently was. 

It’s not like there was a law against fraternizing with a robotic weapon that you stole from a government facility, and if there was–if you ended up getting caught, you imagine the cuddling part would be the least of your worries. 

So, for now, you allowed yourself to blindly walk around the moral gray area of the situation you’d created. 

Ignorance is bliss, and all that. 

It had become an easier mentality to adopt with Satoru because there was just something about him that made you want to be blissfully unaware of your wrongdoings. 

You liked the company, you liked the companionship. Even if you’d only had it for a couple of days, you weren’t ready to give it up. So, with that in mind, you gave in to it and forced yourself to relax.

Which didn’t actually take too much forcing on your end. 

Once you started watching the show and relishing in the warmth that was emanating from him, it was surprisingly easy to forget the ambiguity you were choosing to dance in.

<333

||Masterlist|| <Last< >Next>

[w0rm3y]

Sukuna X pregnant!Reader

small Drabble, your water breaks in the middle of the night.

It was past midnight when you felt it.

The room was dim, bathed in the flicker of city lights leaking through the curtains. Sukuna was half-asleep beside you, arm thrown over your waist, breathing deep and slow. His warmth pressed against your back, his palm splayed protectively across the swell of your stomach.

You shifted. Then froze.

“…Sukuna,” you whispered, nudging his arm.

He grunted, voice groggy, “What is it? You hungry again?”

“No.” Your throat tightened. “I think… my water just broke.”

Sukuna stilled. And then he was sitting upright in one smooth, urgent motion. “Are you serious?”

You nodded, eyes wide. His gaze dropped to the dampness soaking the sheets. He blinked. Slowly. Processing. “Fuck.”

He wasn’t the panicking type—not on the surface. But you could feel the shift. Something sharp in the air. A crackle of fear he didn’t voice.

He stood, fast. Grabbed your overnight bag. Helped you up with a hand that lingered too long on your arm.

“Breathe,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “Just… fuck. Okay. I got you.”

The car ride was silent but loud in every other way. Your breaths were uneven. The contractions had begun—dull and low and already unbearable. Sukuna gripped the steering wheel like it had personally wronged him, jaw tight, red eyes flickering toward you every few seconds.

“I should’ve made you go to the hospital last week,” he snapped suddenly. “You said you felt weird. I should’ve—”

“Suku.” You reached for him blindly, fingers brushing his wrist. “Stop. I’m okay.”

“You’re not okay. You’re in pain.” His voice cracked around the edges. “And I hate it.”

You smiled faintly. “You don’t have to fix this.”

“I fucking know that,” he growled. Then, quieter—“Still kills me.”

Labor blurred. He refused to leave the room. The nurses didn’t argue—he gave them a single look that said don’t even try.

You clung to his hand like it was a lifeline. And when the contractions got unbearable and your cries turned broken, he let you squeeze until his knuckles turned white.

“Breathe, baby. Come on,” he murmured into your hair, pressing desperate kisses to your temple. “You’re almost there.”

At one point, you sobbed, “I can’t do it—”

“Yes, you fucking can,” he said, firm but trembling. “You already are.”

And then—her cry. Loud. Piercing. The sound cracked something inside him clean in two.

Sukuna didn’t move at first. Just stood there as they placed the tiny, wriggling bundle onto your chest. You were crying again, half-laughing, too overwhelmed to speak.

He stepped forward slowly. Looked down at her. And for the first time in his entire life, Sukuna had no words.

She was so small. So loud. So his.

You looked up at him with glassy eyes and whispered, “Come meet her.”

He didn’t speak. Didn’t breathe. Just sat on the edge of the bed and touched her cheek with two fingers like she might disappear.

“She's… real,” he muttered, almost angry. “She’s fucking real.”

You nodded. And for a moment, he didn’t look like Sukuna. He looked like a man who had finally found something worth praying for, even if he didn’t believe in anything at all.

You took his hand again. And as his daughter whimpered softly on your chest, Sukuna bowed his head and whispered, “If the world touches her wrong, I’ll burn it down.”

You believed him. And in the fragile silence of that hospital room, you knew: He would ruin himself before letting anything ruin you two.

[w0rm3y]

i wish he was real

[w0rm3y]

HOA Horrors- R. Sukuna

overview Sukuna has beef with the Homeowners' Association in his neighborhood, and, unfortunately, isn't allowed to handle it in the way he'd like. a/n hi hi! this is lit just fluff and humor, but in a Sukuna kind of way. loosely edited, prob typos, sry, but i'm super tired rn wc 2k sparkle divider- anitalenia

The average homeowners association was able to strip the joy out of suburban living for most people; ancient, powerful deities like Sukuna were included.

All the petulant fines over the smallest changes you’ve made to your own house, on your own property, that you bought with your own money, just felt a little ridiculous. And it didn’t matter how many times that old hag reprimanded you for breaking the HOA code of conduct, you would always find it stupid. 

Usually, she’d win the argument because the everyday human didn’t feel like wasting time on trivial matters. However, this HOA president’s wife, the old hag who was currently reprimanding your husband for breaking the code yet again, wasn’t just dealing with an average human. 

Little did she know, she was reprimanding the King of Curses. Granted, it had been a long while since that name instilled the fear in someone like it used to, but that didn’t change who Sukuna was. No, of course not, it only meant that he’d… mellowed out as the years went by, and since taking you as a wife, maybe he’s voluntarily passed on a few town slaughterings for the sake of spending time with you. 

He found that if he surrounded himself with you, rather than screams of agony and the stench of blood, the world seemed a bit more pleasant. Pained shrieks had turned into a gentle melody that you’d hum in the morning, and that familiar stench of blood started to smell a lot like the flowers you obsessed over. 

He learned to enjoy the simplicity that came with being your husband, even if you overthink your gardening sometimes and force him to participate in the flower placement. While Sukuna didn’t truly care about flowers, he cared deeply for you and surrounded himself with your interests for your sake. Therefore, he had a green thumb by proxy.

“I think I’m tired of seeing these sunflowers,” you mumbled one night as you both sat on your back porch. 

And suddenly, Sukuna had a newfound dislike for sunflowers.

“I think I want to redo the flowers that line the stepping stones. What if… what if we did daylillies?” you suggested, turning to give him your usual wide-eyed stare, the one you’d always have when you asked for his input. 

“I believe they’re toxic to felines,” Sukuna added oh so subtly, gently reminding you of the neighborhood stray cats that he’d secretly feed in the backyard, which was yet another HOA violation. 

“You’re right. What about dahlias, then?”

“I like dahlias.”

Did Sukuna really like dahlias? He wasn’t entirely sure because he couldn’t recall what they looked like, but if you liked them, he liked them.

And that’s why he was awake pretty early on this fine Saturday morning, toting around with him a gardening hose that he was using to messily water the new flowers you’d planted last night. Apparently, they required a substantial amount of water, but well-drained soil, and a sunny spot that was also sheltered.  

Sukuna didn’t understand what that meant, but you did, and that’s all that mattered to him when you told him to go water the dahlias this morning while you started on breakfast for you both. 

He didn’t ask questions anymore, he just did what he was told–you knew best. 

Always. 

And if you said the backyard stepping stones looked better lined with dahlias, then that was true. There was absolutely no one who could change Sukuna’s mind, not even the HOA president’s wife, who had stumbled into your backyard gated garden.

The sight of her stalking up to your massive husband was a little funny, so you took a brief moment to watch them through the kitchen window, readying yourself to intervene as soon as Sukuna looked as though he might slice the woman in half. He had been really good so far with not using his abilities to murder humans, but you knew that this HOA lady was definitely pushing his buttons. If there was anyone who could do that without any repercussions, it was you.

 This wasn’t the first run in you or Sukuna had had with her, and it definitely won’t be the last. However, this would probably be the only time she’d ever step foot onto your property ever again without permission. Sukuna would make sure of it.

She leered at Sukuna like he was the devil incarnate, eyeing his choice of clothing, which was a black tank top and some sweat pants because he just rolled out of bed for this and wasn’t even half awake. 

Unbeknownst to the ranting woman–Terri, was her name–this was a terrible time to irritate the King of Curses, for he was grumpy on a good day, and a homicidal maniac if he was even the slightest bit tired. 

While he continued to spray the new flowers down with water, he looked at her, waiting for her to begin with the usual reprimand. 

“According to rule 6583:4-19-11, flowers must remain muted in color so as to match the other flowerbeds around the area.” 

“Is that so?” he hummed absent-mindedly. In reality, Sukuna was only thinking of crawling back into the warm bed he’d just come from after dragging you in with him. “Color is subjective.”

“Subjective?” she spat exasperatedly, motioning to all the dripping flowers at Sukuna’s feet. “There’s nothing subjectively muted about this color at all. It’s hot pink!”

“How odd. They seem rather pastel to me-”

“Don’t be smart with me, boy.”

Sukuna stiffened, big hands easing off the water hose to give this woman his utmost attention.

“Excuse me? Who do you think you’re talking to? Addressing me as a boy?”

“You look to be my son’s age.”

Sukuna could feel all the bottled up rage he kept stored so tightly begin to shake on the metaphorical shelf. 

“I’d eat your son.” It was now Terri’s turn to stiffen, but her frozen figure was out of confused fear. “I could take him in my hands, tear him in two, and eat him. Now get off my property before I give you a demonstration-”

“Sukuna?” you called out, stepping onto the back porch after having sensed the rising tension in the back yard. 

But your voice didn’t hold comfort, nor was it meant to gently coax him back from doing something he shouldn’t–no, it was a warning. A warning not to do what he was thinking about doing, lest he wished to reap the consequences you’d no doubt torture him with. 

With that in mind, he suppressed his anger to the best of his ability and said, “Get off my property. Now. Dealing with you this early is torture-”

“The HOA code-”

“Take that code and shove it up your ass-”

Terri gasped, “How dare you speak to me that way-”

With a blighted groan, Sukuna raised the garden hose in his hands and unleashed the jet stream of water on the old woman. She screamed, of course, and definitely woke up the entire neighborhood in the process. Only when she was sufficiently soaked did Sukuna relent and begin to water the dahlias again. 

Wiping the water droplets from her face, Terri sputtered, “Big mistake, boy! You do know what I am?”

“A drowned hag?” he offered, voice bored and monotone once again–watching her nearly drown had quelled his need for violence just enough to not boil over. 

She let out an irritated shriek. “Oh, I will be back, and I’ll bring my husband, who happens to be the president of the HOA.”

“Mhm. You do that.”

Terri stormed off, leaving Sukuna to finish the task you’d assigned to him in peace. Afterwards, when he entered the house, his breakfast was presented to him on the kitchen table as you plated your own meal. 

“You’re not going to kill her, are you?” you asked, taking your seat next to your husband. 

“Not yet, but if she sets foot in our backyard again, I might. I swear, moving here was the biggest mistake. I didn’t think anyone could care about the color palette of the neighborhood flowerbeds. Aren’t there more pressing matters she should busy herself with? Like finding heavy-duty retinol to take care of those wrinkles? You’d think she was as old as me with skin like that.”

You giggled, “Ooo, she really has you pissed off today, doesn’t she?”

“She’s upset about the dahlias. They’re too pink.”

“Oh? If that’s all, I can find some in a different color-”

“No. You wanted pink, so they’ll stay pink.”

And with a small smile and a peck to his cheek, you dropped the subject before you ruined his mood for the entire day. But that was the end of the dispute. After returning from the store with Sukuna, you found a note that had been taped to your front door. 

Sukuna ripped it off with a grunt, reading it over before chuckling. “It’s another fine. According to her, my clothing, the garden flag, and, of course, the flower beds break the fucking code of conduct.” The paper disintegrated within seconds after he finished reading it. “How many fines have we paid since moving here?”

You shrugged and fit the key into the lock. “A lot. Maybe they’re just after our money.”

“Pathetic fools. We have more than enough money–more than they could ever comprehend.” Upon stepping inside, Sukuna took your many grocery bags to the kitchen while he pondered something to get that hag to leave you alone. Maybe he should pay back the fines in the smallest form of currency–that’s sure to get a rise out of the old woman, maybe even give her a heart attack and kill her in the process. 

The next morning, when Sukuna stepped out onto the porch to water the dahlias again, he realized he’d need to do more than pay them back with a prank. For these idiots had trampled your dahlias in the night–a clear sign that they were prepared to fight. 

Sukuna clenched his fists at his sides as he stormed back into the house, pausing in the archway of the kitchen. He cleared his throat to get your attention. 

“Woman,” he began, trying to steady his breathing as you turned to face him. “It appears this association of moronic humans has taken it upon themselves to initiate war. I will be back in less than an hour.”

You blinked at him, already imagining how this would pan out. You knew it would end with you both having to ditch your life here and escape to somewhere new, which you weren’t entirely upset about. With that in mind, you gave him a small smile, huffing out, “Okay, ‘Kuna. Be safe.”

ty, ty, ty for reading <333 also, i wanna quickly mention that if you see this posted somewhere else (inkitt & wattpad), but with Hades and Persephone as the characters, don't be alarmed. it's mine. i originally wrote it for Hades and Persephone, but i feel like it fits the vibe of Sukuna and his wife, so i made a few changes, and here we are :)

[w0rm3y]

the first time satoru says “i love you.” was when he thought he was gonna die.

not when fighting a curse and not when he was playing cod with geto.

no, it was when he first slipped into your succulent, warm, cunt.

he looked down at you, brushing the sweat off of your forehead. “you look so pretty like this, baby.” he chuckles to himself. satoru was stuck between a rock and a hard place. your pussy was so beautiful, inviting almost, but he was terrified of cumming too fast. “satoruuu…” you croon, brining a hand up to cup his face. he sighs and looks up at you with puppydog eyes. “mhm?” he hums, his hand never leaving the base of his cock.

“you’re staring…” you giggle, bringing your hand up to stroke his ivory hair. he smiles and strokes his dick a couple times, pressing the tip into your cunt. “m’sorry…” he mumbles, slowly pushing his dick inside. you moan out and wrap your arms around satoru’s neck. he huffs out and starts to moan lowly to himself, mumbling something along the lines of “oh my god” or “fuck, this is amazing.” he finally bottoms out inside of you, a moan getting caught in his throat before bursting out suddenly, his head dropping into the dip between your shoulder and neck. as satoru starts to thrust in and out of you, you can’t help but speak praises about your oh-so perfect boyfriend.

“you’re doing so good.” you moan out breathlessly, squeezing the back of his neck with your soft hand as the other roamed his back. he groans out, bringing two strong hand to pin your wriggling hips to the bed. and with two more fatal strokes…he cums..right inside of you with no warning. “oh-oh fuck..” he moans, biting the pillow beneath your head. “oh my god..shit, i love you.” he moans out, a deep cherry blush adorning his pale face.

“huh?” you hum out, arching your stomach into his built frame. “fuck, y/n..” he moans, still rolling his hips into yours. “i really do…i love you..” he cries out, gripping your waist even harder.

you were totally making fun of him for this later.

[w0rm3y]

Pool Boy 4 Hire- S. Gojo

PoolBoy!Gojo x LonelyHousewife!Reader

summary: You don't hate your husband, you swear on your life, but sometimes you hate everything about him. Like his receding hairline, his liver spots, his inability to pay attention to you, and his goddamn stamp collection. But you did love him for one thing, and it was his stellar decision in hiring that lovely pool boy. warnings: MDNI, explicit smut , cheating and infidelity, age gap (reader is early thirties, Gojo is early twenties), afab reader, cliche plot, gojo is sort of a slut, but so is reader, and cheating again, loosely edited, prob contains typos word count: 4.5k sparkle divider- anitalenia

When your husband first told you that he had hired a pool boy, his words had gone in one ear and out the other, much like your words do when he’s focused on his fucking stamp collection while you’re trying to tell him your plans for the week. 

You didn’t give two shits who your husband hired to work around the house, so long as they would be your friends long enough to keep you company while he was away. You’d done this with the maid, the gardener, and the personal chef, but they were adults.

When he said he hired a pool boy, you imagined a chubby-cheeked, pimply teen boy–why would you, as a woman in her thirties, want to be friends with that? You could’ve been old enough to be his mother.

But when the pool boy your husband hired showed up, you realized he was anything but a boy. Granted, he was younger than you by about ten years, but there was no doubt that this man was grown. It threw you for a loop; he wasn’t what you imagined at all. 

So, when your husband casually dropped the ‘honey, this is Satoru, our pool boy,’ while introducing you to the tall, white-haired, muscular fellow, you didn’t know what to say.

You stammered–fucking stammered for an answer, which was embarrassing. Even more so when you caught that knowing smirk on Satoru’s mouth, as if he knew exactly what was going through your mind at that moment. 

Which was… a lot of things. 

A lot of sinful things that a married woman should not be thinking about when her husband is standing right in front of her. Admittedly, those inappropriate thoughts didn’t go away with the blaring sirens in your head telling you how wrong they were. 

Your brain kept a steady stream of them, ready to force them into your mind’s eye at any given time throughout your very boring and dreary days. 

And honestly, it wasn’t your fault–not entirely. 

Satoru was there so often that you couldn’t forget about him even if you wanted to. He showed up on time, three days a week, and not once has he missed a scheduled shift. 

Neither did you.

You were at your front door or waiting beside the pool, ready to greet him each time. 

 In truth, yes, you found him extremely attractive, but you had morals. Your husband might be neglectful, but cheating on him? 

You’d never.

So you did the next best thing when your moral compass pointed you in the right direction–no matter how badly you wanted to take that stupid fucking compass and shatter it into a million pieces on the ground– you became friends with Satoru. 

And, turns out, he’s lovely company. He was funny and attractive, and a giant flirt. He didn’t throw those cheesy old-man sayings at you that you used to find a little charming.

Satoru was attentive and observant, and he noticed things about you. He cared, or at least he pretended to. 

Like when you’d tell him about your lackluster plans for the day, and he’d say: ‘You’re staying in tonight? You should watch that new show I was telling you about. I think you’d really like it.’

 Or when you’d mention the drama you heard about at the country club that week.

‘Oh, Melissa’s husband left her for his mother’s hospice nurse? That’s insane, but that alimony check is going to feel so fucking good when it hits her bank account.’

Or when you’d spill about the overwhelming frustration your husband left you with every single night, though you only mentioned that part because you’d had one too many mimosas at brunch that morning.

‘He left you all alone again, and you want me to stay? You feeling lonely? Poor you. Okay, maybe I’ll stay an extra hour.’ 

He made you feel seen again. He looked at you like you were beautiful. He’d hand out compliments after compliments just to see you smile–and probably hand over extra tip money, which you always did because he really was working overtime to compensate for the lack of attention from your husband. 

There was a chance that he could be lying straight to your face, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about that. You were so starved for attention that you were willing to pay for it.

And you’d do so on your husband’s dime because what else was he good for at this point? 

Sometimes you wondered if you hated him, and it was getting harder and harder to tell yourself that you didn’t.

You didn’t hate your husband. No, seriously, you didn’t. Maybe you disliked him heavily, but hate? No, that’s… that’s too far. He never did anything to you that warranted pure, unadulterated, seething hatred–how could he have? He was never around. The lack of calls, late nights, missed dinners, and the constant cleaning up of his little messes– now that was the cause for your dislike of him. 

But it was never enough to make you genuinely hate him.

Sure, you hated the marriage, but not him. You hated all of his stupid fucking quirks, like the way he’d puff out a breath when he’d take his spot on the couch, or the way he’d almost always wake you up by gagging himself with his toothbrush each morning, but you didn’t hate him. And you definitely hated his little collection of useless stamps he spent his free time obsessing over, but you swear on your life that you didn’t hate him.

As if those stamps would kneel in front of him for hours and hours, bruising their own knees while they sucked him off, and all for a crumb of attention, a morsel of consideration for all of their efforts. 

No, that was you who did that, not those stupid fucking stamps. 

Seriously, what’s the appeal of them? A little sticky square you put in the corner of an envelope? Who fucking cares?

You were bitter, but that’s to be expected after years in a marriage where you’re neglected and your love is never reciprocated. You were accustomed to how he used to treat you–that being like a fucking queen, as you should be, but things were different now. As soon as you blew out the birthday candles that were on top of your thirtieth birthday cake, your husband just stopped seeing you as his wife and more like his live-in maid. That revelation was like a bucket of ice-cold water dumped right over your head.

Perhaps you should have known better. After all, you pursued an older man who clearly had a thing for younger women; that’s why you both hit it off so well, but you assumed that when he asked for your hand in marriage, your husband at least grasped the concept of aging in that liver-spotted hand of his. 

Surely, he does! How can he not?! The man is twenty years older than you! His wrinkles are wrinkling deeper by the minute, he can’t hear as well as he used to, and you don’t think it’s just because he’s ignoring you anymore. He fucking collects stamps, and he’s got a hairline that is creeping all the way back. 

Yes. That’s right.

All. The. Way. Back.

And like that one song you hear constantly around the holidays, it didn’t show signs of stopping. You’d make a comedic connection about letting it snow and the dandruff that piled high on his shoulders, but he had already made you sick to your stomach enough for today, and you didn’t need to add fuel to the metaphorical fire; he was supplying your searing rage with adequate amounts of gasoline, wood, bone-dry grass, and more fucking gasoline by breaking the most harrowing news to you over breakfast one morning.

“We have to fire the pool boy.”

Oh, of course, we do… 

That’s the last thing in this godforsaken house that brings you a little bit of joy. Naturally, your husband wants to get rid of him. Probably to afford more fucking stamps that will sit in a glass cabinet and collect dust.

Since when is a small, sticky square more important than you?

“I don’t want to fire the pool boy,” you stated calmly, a stark contrast to the wrath raging inside of you. You sipped your tea from your intricate porcelain cup, pretending as though the conversation was over. 

But it wasn’t. 

In fact, it was far from over–your husband would make sure of it, but you were prepared to fight to stand your ground to keep that man employed, lest you wished to succumb to this dry spell you were in.

“You don’t pay the pool boy. I do,” your husband added.

“That’s right. You pay the pool boy to keep the pool clean–the pool I regularly use. If he goes, who will take care of the pool then?”

“I will.”

“Mhm…” you hummed, “I’d rather leave it to a professional.”

“Oh, please,” he arrogantly scoffed, “It’s a pool. How hard could it be to keep clean?”

“Do you even know what kind of pool we have?”

“The kind you swim in?” he offered, mockingly, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking peeved about it. Instead, you sipped your tea one more time, gently setting it down on its respective saucer. 

“It’s saltwater. Which is difficult to work with.”

It wasn’t actually hard to work with, or so Satoru said, but you were desperate to keep that pool boy around, so you didn’t mind lying.

“You don’t think I’d be capable of figuring it out?”

“I’m thinking less about you figuring out the process, and more about the effort you’ll have to put in. After all, the pool is more or less mine, and you’re not fond of taking the time to put forth effort into anything that relates to me or my interests-”

“You’re still on that?”

“I never got off of it to begin with. If you paid attention to me, you would’ve noticed.”

He rolled his eyes and abruptly pushed away from the table. As he stood, he said, “I pay attention to you, okay? I notice things.”

“Do you?” you countered, seeing if he’d notice the very obvious change in your hair that you’d had done yesterday at the salon. 

You told them to add highlights, and you also had it trimmed. There was also the new set of nails you had done, a striking blue that should have caught his attention. Or even the lash extensions you now have that were not there yesterday morning. 

“Of course, I do.”

You nodded, motioning for him to continue–to prove you wrong and show that he does notice things about you. “Go on.”

He sputtered out a chuckle, brushing you off yet again as he rounded the corner of the table and placed his hands on your shoulders. The way he was pressing his fingertips into you had your stomach rolling. “You get so bent out of shape, darling. You need to loosen up. Have a massage, go to the spa, get your nails done-”

You gritted your teeth at that.

“-whatever you need to do to turn that frown upside down.”

Blegh. 

God, he really was twenty years older than you, and it shows. How did you not see through his geriatric nature before? 

Oh, right. 

Money. 

He constantly threw it at you. At first, you thought it was to show you how much he cared, but you were starting to think it might’ve been a cover-up for his shitty personality. 

“Gotta go.” He pressed a chapped-lipped, chaste kiss against your temple before pushing away. “I won’t be home for dinner.”

“...shocker,” you grumbled, picking up your cup of tea again. 

“Don’t wait up for me, either,” he called as he continued to move out of the dining room. 

“...and I never do.”

  At eleven o’clock that morning, you were already lounging by the pool, waiting for your entertainment of the day to arrive. It was late summer, and the sun was showing absolutely no mercy as it pelted you with UV. It was pretty hot, too. Actually, it was the record high temperature for the season, or so the weatherman said over the little portable radio you always brought out with you. 

The overwhelming heat and harsh sun rays called for proper swimwear: a bikini. Naturally, it was the skimpiest one you owned– to allow for sufficient sun exposure and vitamin D retention, of course. It’s definitely not to catch Satoru’s attention at all; that’s an insane notion. 

He was your pool boy, not your pony boy.

Yet.

Over the weatherman on your radio, you heard the sound of the pool gate opening and then closing, followed by a low, impressed whistle. Immediately, it brought a smile to your face–your entertainment had arrived.

“Wow,” Satoru began, voice taking a playful lilt. Though you were lounging on your stomach with your eyes closed, you felt the relief from the sun as his shadow loomed over you. “Is that a new bikini? And a haircut, too?”

Grinning, you propped yourself up on your elbows, cheek resting in your palms as you gazed up at him through your sunglasses. 

“Like it?”

“Mm, I do.” He brushed a piece of your hair out of your face as his eyes traced down your form, settling on your ass for a second longer than was considered appropriate. “The bikini is nice, too. I like the color.”

There was compliment number one.

You raised your hand to him, showing off your new, glossy blue nails. “I had my nails done to match.”

“Yeah?” He took your hand in his, inspecting the new set with humored interest. “Or was it to match my eyes instead?”

You shrugged, bringing your hand back to your body as he moved to begin his job. “Maybe both.”

“The color suits you. Maybe too well.”

There was compliment number two.

“Thank you. My husband didn’t even notice them. Didn’t even say anything about my hair, either.”

“Really? That was the first thing I noticed.”

You got up from your spot in the lounger, trailing after him like you always do, to take your seat on the edge of the pool. Per usual, he cast you a brief, sly smirk when he noticed you following him. 

“Got any country club scandals for me today?” he asked, checking over the pool filters. 

“Obviously. Melissa got her alimony check, went on this massive shopping spree, and blew all of it in one day, and all because her ex-husband proposed to the hospice nurse he was cheating with.”

“But it’s only been a week.”

You nodded, finding it a little ridiculous yourself. “I know. And get this, another girl at the country club knows the hospice nurse’s mother, who told her that the reason for the quick engagement is because she’s pregnant.”

He paused, glancing at you with disbelieving eyes. “No...”

“Mhm. She’s four months along, which means he’s been cheating on Melissa for a while now, and all while his mother is lying in a bed, dying.”

“That’s… really fucked up, actually.”

“Tell me about it. He’s a neglectful husband and a neglectful son. Sometimes, men just suck. But not you.”

He chuckled, “No? You don’t think so?”

“Not at all. I think you’re pretty great. I bet you make your girlfriend really happy.”

His grin was infectious, but you knew that he instantly caught on to the hidden meaning behind your comment. 

“I appreciate the compliment, but I think you’re just dancing around asking me if I’m single. You can just ask, you know.”

“Okay. Are you single?”

“Very single,” he answered without missing a beat, “Having a girlfriend wouldn’t mesh well with my line of work.”

You tilted your head. “What do you mean? Cleaning pools?”

You heard his breathy exhale as he bent down to inspect the pool pump inside the utility box, disappearing from your view. “More like flirting with the lonely women, who are ignored by their husbands.”

Okay, so he wasn’t oblivious to the things he said. He was being a tease on purpose. 

“So, you are flirting with me?” you asked, feeling a spike of something warm in your blood. So warm that it prompted you to get into the water in an attempt to cool off.

He appeared in your line of sight again, a simpering grin toying at the corners of his mouth. “I thought that much was obvious.”

Coming to rest on the edge of the pool, right by the pool pump, you said, “I thought you were just…”

“Just what? Messing with you?” When you nodded, he playfully rolled his eyes and sank to your level at the edge. “I swear, you all think the same thing. And didn’t you just say you thought I was a great guy?”

“Sure. A great guy who forces himself to be nice to the touch-starved women he works for. It’s like charity, and we truly appreciate you for your service.”

He tutted, “You’ve got it all wrong, sweets. I flirt with you because I like it.”

“Even though I’m married?”

“Well, if your husband isn’t going to do it, someone has to. You’re too pretty not to be flirted with, and I’m too shameless not to flirt with a beautiful woman like you, married or not.”

And there was compliment number three, sliding past your morals that were up to bat in this metaphorical game of ethics, landing right in the catcher’s mitt of your very bad decisions. 

It was then that you realized that Satoru was a really, really good pitcher, and your morals were absolutely terrible against him. 

“Just how shameless are you?” you asked, subconsciously leaning closer, while he did the same. 

“Depends. How shameless do you want me to be?”

Satoru was a really, really good pitcher, always managing to strike out each and every one of your morals that were up to bat. 

And not only was he really, really good at pitching, he was also really, really good at eating pussy, too.

You came to that realization only moments after you concluded your conversation about how shameless he could get. The short answer to that was very shameless, considering the position you were in right now. 

You were just under the pool house veranda, pushed up against the wall, hidden from anyone who might peek out of the house, but not if they decided to venture toward the pool. Briefly, you thought that there was a thrill in being caught like this; it excited you more than you’d ever been in your boring years as a wife. 

He was on his knees in front of you, one hand holding your blue bikini bottoms to the side, the other massaging your bare thigh, while he demonstrated how shameless he could really be with his tongue lapping against your pussy.

“O-Oh…” you gasped, starstruck, brain-dead, and shocked all at the same time. Your fingers carded through his white hair in an attempt to grapple with reality–how was this real? Since when does oral ever feel like this?

 Tightening your grip, you pulled his mouth closer to your core, and moaned when you felt his satisfied hum vibrate against you. His tongue swirled over your clit greedily, like he was trying to taste you because he wanted to, which was a complete 180 to the rare occasions when your husband decides to poke you with the tip of his tongue a few times, like he’s afraid to get his mouth messy. 

Yeah, Satoru wasn’t like that at all.

He was sloppy, and he was good at being sloppy. 

Your hips softly rocked into his mouth, sliding over his tongue in a way that had a series of cold chills rushing down your spine. Your legs were already shaking from the nerves of doing something so bad, but now they were shaking from doing something that felt so fucking good, too. 

Thank God, Satoru noticed and, using his free hand, pinned your hips against the wall. However, with that restriction, he pulled his mouth away from your slick pussy, making you whine and tug on his hair again. The action made him chuckle as he tutted at your impatience, returning to your pussy to suck on your clit for only a second before pulling away again. 

Just as before, you tried to pull him closer, but this time, he reached up and wrapped his fingers around your wrist, pulling your hand away from his hair.

“All those times your husband left you unsatisfied in bed have you traumatized, doesn’t it?” he goaded as he released your wrist when he was sure you weren’t going to pull him closer again. Waiting for your response, Satoru looked up at you as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your bikini bottoms to pull them down your legs. When you didn’t answer–because you were staring at the godsend of a mouth on him–he continued, “Don’t worry. I’m not finished yet.”

Your bathing suit bottoms pooled around your ankles, and with a gentle tap to your calf, he silently told you to raise your foot so he could remove it. After doing so, he palmed the back of your thigh and raised it to rest on his shoulder. You nearly moaned from just the feeling of him skimming his hands over your outer thigh–that’s how touch-starved you had become since marrying your husband. 

Feather-light kisses pressed into your inner thigh, trailing toward your pussy, but never actually touching it. It was teasing at its greatest, torture at its worst; you were about to combust with sexual frustration.

“Please,” you whined, grabbing his hair again to bring him closer. Rather than telling you to stop, he sank his teeth into your flesh, the feeling startling enough to make you stop. 

Lapping over the bite, he asked, “How often does your husband have the pleasure of being face down between these legs?”

If you hadn’t been mentally short-circuiting, you might’ve laughed. When was the last time your husband went down on you? So long that you couldn’t even remember when.

“Seldom,” you managed to bite out. “He doesn’t like to… do this.” 

You felt Satoru’s smug grin trace over your skin before he sucked a small bruise onto your inner thigh. Releasing your flesh with a light ‘pop’, he drew back just a bit before bringing his fingers to his mouth to wet them. 

“That’s sort of selfish, don’t you think?” he mused, leaning back into your pussy, while also inching his fingers inside of you. The combination of it was otherworldly and had your back slightly arching off the wall in order to press your pussy into his mouth. 

“H-He’s not–fuck–not great at it.” 

“What a shame…” he mumbled, amused by your answer, before giving in and pressing his tongue against you again. 

With the warmth of his palm splayed out over your thigh to stabilize you, his fingers hitting oh so deep in your pussy, and soft, yet precise movements of his tongue over your clit, you were building toward the first orgasm you’d had in months. No longer were you able to rock your hips to establish your own rhythm; you were now led by the pace Satoru decided, which, admittedly, was really good. 

“Oh, please, don’t stop,” you panted, “Don’t stop, don’t st-”

Your orgasm hit you then, so quick and harsh that it actually brought tears to your eyes. You shuddered against his bruising grip on your thigh, grabbing onto his hair to bring him closer as your other leg almost gave out on you, too. Luckily, you still had the wall behind you for support. 

The euphoric pleasure washed over you in pulsing waves, radiating toward your limbs from where his tongue met your pussy. And just as quickly as you felt satiated, you began to feel overstimulated.

Gasping and teary-eyed, you pulled him away from your pussy so you could breathe again and watched him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, trying his best to fight back an arrogant grin. 

“Now what?” you asked through ragged breaths.

Your question served to make him laugh. “What do you mean, ‘now what’? I mean, if you want to return the favor, be my guest-”

“No, not that. I want you to fuck me.”

Chuckling, he reached over to grab your bikini bottoms. “Mm, as tempting as that sounds, I can’t do it today.” Bringing both of your hands to his shoulders, he then held the blue thong out for you to step into, which you did. 

“Why not?”

The damp clothing was dragged up your legs until he settled it in its original place, high on your hips. 

“Well, first, I have another house I need to be at within the hour, and second, you should probably come to terms with your infidelity before going all the way. It’ll save us both the awkwardness of you crying in the middle of sex because you feel guilty.”

“Speaking from experience?”

Satoru playfully shrugged and pushed himself to stand on his feet. “Maybe. I’m the only pool boy for this entire neighborhood, and if you think you’re the only lonely housewife I work for, you’d be mistaken. But you are the only one who was able to match a bikini to my eye color so perfectly, so I commend you for that.”

“Ouch…” you exhaled an amused sigh. “So, you’re saying I’m unoriginal.”

“Very,” he agreed, just as humorous as you. “But I appreciate the effort always. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Melissa from the next block over just divorced her husband, and the first thing she bought with her alimony was a month of services from me.”

Your mouth fell open in shock as you recounted the few times you gushed about your pool boy to Melissa at the country club. “Hey, she only booked because of me!”

“I know,” he teasingly said, “I should really start offering referral discounts or something.” 

After situating your bathing suit to cover your body properly, you led Satoru to the front gate where his car was parked. 

“I’ll be back Thursday.”

You offered him a small wave, saying your goodbyes, but it wasn’t until he was halfway to his car that you remembered something. 

“You better not tell Melissa I said anything about her ex-husband, or his pregnant hospice nurse mistress.”

Satoru almost looked offended as he pulled open his car door. “I would never. Country club gossip stays between you and me.”

When he was gone, and you finally entered the house again, you started devising a plan of how you were going to convince your husband to keep your pool boy.

ty 4 reading <333

[w0rm3y]

me when satoru calls reader wifey

me when toji calls reader ma

me when suguru calls reader pretty girl

me when toji calls reader doll

me when sukuna calls reader woman

[w0rm3y]

Four: Rewired For Humanity- S. Gojo

CataclysmicWeapon!Gojo x Engineer!Reader ˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ cw: defected suguru level of angst (sry), mentions of domestic terrorism, but like... ya'll already know how jjk goes, so idk if i need to tag that lol wc: 3.6k a/n: hi hi!! there is a little fluff in here, I swear! ||Masterlist|| <Last< >Next>

Unfortunately, you couldn’t avoid work at the Syndicate forever, which is why you–along with the other apprentices–were scheduled to be at work at 9 am the next morning. You didn’t want to go for the obvious reason: Satoru. Not only did you not want to leave him on his own, you also didn’t want to leave him–as in, you didn’t want to be without him. It had only been three days, but you felt as though you were making a lot of progress on turning him into a functioning human. 

It was gratifying to your life as an engineer, but also as a human. There was just something so satisfying about watching him pick up on the basic human-like traits. You wished that could’ve been your full-time job. But, instead, you were forced to leave the confines of your apartment and venture to work.

After the discussion you had with Satoru the night before, you swore that you wouldn’t subject him to being locked up in a cage like they’d done to him at the Syndicate, but you told him not to leave the apartment either. That was for his own safety, and you think he understands that. Or, rather, you hope he understands that. 

After all, he didn’t seem too bothered when you broke the news to him this morning, but, of course, you’d softened the blow by handing him a bowl sugar and berries, so there’s a chance that he didn’t hear you at all as he stuffed his mouth with the dessert.

“You’re free to walk around the apartment, okay? But don’t leave.” He stared down at you, chewing slowly on a sugared strawberry while you explained. “I’m going to draw the blinds before I go, don’t open them. And don’t answer the door for anyone. You can watch TV, but not Desperate Housewives–we can watch that together. Oh, and if you watch the cooking channel, don’t try the recipes they show you. I know it sounds like they’re talking to you, but they’re not. You don’t have to listen to them, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And if you need me, I left my phone number on the fridge. If you can’t reach me there and it’s really an emergency, call the Syndicate, and tell them you're my cousin.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t use that red, blue, purple stuff in the apartment. I’d definitely lose my security deposit.”

“Mhm, okay. I do have common sense.”

You bristled at his chiding comment. “I know that.”

“Do you? Because you’re telling me things that I already know. I’m robotic, not infantile–I’m meant to be helpful to humans.”

It was probably your nerves with the impending day at work, but you found yourself growing irritated.

“Fine. Be helpful and… clean the apartment.”

He popped another berry into his mouth and mumbled, “Okay,” but the way in which he said it had you backtracking out of guilt. 

“Wait. No, don’t do that.”

“Okay.”

Your jaw clenched. “Can you stop saying okay?”

“Sure.”

But ‘sure’ was so much worse, and you couldn’t help but let him know it by sputtering out your agitations. In truth, it wasn’t inherently his fault that you were stressed, but his nonchalance wasn’t making this any easier for you.

“...stop being so laid back all the time because it’s pissing me off. I mean, I want to be laid back, too, but I can’t because-”

During your rant, he shoved a small sugared strawberry into your mouth with his fingers, not once flinching when your teeth accidentally scraped against his fingertips. Stunned by the whole action, all you could do was take the fruit he forced into your mouth, and maybe–just maybe– your tongue slid over his fingers to clean the sticky residue from them, too. It’s not like you meant to do it, it just felt… natural.

After he slipped his hand away from you, you chewed, then swallowed, your wide eyes never leaving his, even when he sucked what remained of the sugary syrup from his own fingers. 

“You don’t have to worry about me being here without you. I’ll probably go inactive before noon, so you won’t have to come back to a demolished apartment, okay?” 

How he was able to put enough monotone inflection on that ‘okay’ to make it sound mocking, you weren’t sure, but somehow it made you feel a bit better.

“Okay.”

Okay, so maybe you weren’t entirely convinced that leaving Satoru at your apartment, on his own, was a good idea. Objectively, it was a terrible idea, and you knew this, but there wasn’t much else you could do. It’s not like the Syndicate offered free babysitting services for weapons that you stole from them, though that would be very helpful if they did.

But maybe you should also give him the benefit of the doubt and trust that he isn’t going to combust while you’re not there. It’s not like you could save him if he did, and in the most likely case, if he did start acting like a cataclysmic weapon, there wasn’t anything you could do to stop him then, either. 

You should really start coming to terms with the fact that he could do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and face no repercussions for it. Satoru being powered on, working, and not within the Syndicate’s barriers was a fault of yours, so take responsibility and have faith in your new robotic roommate, or stay anxious about it. 

And true to your nature, of course, you chose the latter. But your anxiety, trepidation, and sweat-drenched palms might be because you had downed the large iced coffee that Nobara had brought to you this morning. 

The ice rattled in your cup as you nervously bounced your leg, the sound of it being heard over the steady chatter of the other members of S.C.M.W.I, which, notably, wasn’t very many. Each department had been ordered to meet in the conference room this morning as you were scanned into the building. There were a few new faces, but you were too antsy to go around to meet them right now. 

Beside you, Nobara noisily drank her own beverage while she eyed your jittery leg with disconcertion, probably wondering if she should pry into it or leave you to your nerves. You’d hoped she wouldn’t ask because you were a terrible fucking liar, but your luck apparently ran out when you decided to bring Satoru home.

“You okay?” she questioned, placing a gentle hand on your knee in an attempt to calm you down. 

“M’fine,” you muttered and forced your leg to stop moving. 

Nobara didn’t look the slightest bit convinced. 

“Look, I know it’s a little scary to think there’s a weapon on the loose, but everything will be okay. This happened one time before, and the Syndicate handled it perfectly. They located the device within a few days. Granted, there were a lot of casualties, but none of them were employees here.”

As if that would make you feel the slightest bit better.

Gulping down your imminent groan, you forced a smile and asked, “What’s with this meeting, then? Do they want us to help search for the thief?”

“No,” she chuckled, “HR forces them to debrief all of us on the situation and let us know that it’s being handled. It’s a way to save their asses in case any of us want to sue for compromised safety.”

“Oh, health and safety risks,” you surmised, “Shouldn’t that be included in the onboarding process? I’m sure I signed a waiver or something that said I knew the risks.”

“You’d think so, but this is a bit different since the device is no longer on campus. If you get obliterated by the Syndicate’s property while walking down the street, they don’t want you to hold them responsible.”

“Well, that would be hard to do since I’d be obliterated, right?”

She nodded in agreement, sipping her drink. “That’s what I’m saying.”  

Her explanation did actually end up making you feel better, at least enough to stop visibly shaking with each breath you took, but still, there was the risk of being caught that loomed in the back of your mind. 

And the fact that Satoru is alone right now–

Wait, wait. You weren’t supposed to worry about that anymore because you have to trust him.

From the entrance of the conference room, you noticed three new people enter: an older gentleman led with two women flanking his sides. You noticed they looked a bit more sophisticated than your fellow apprentices and wondered who they were exactly. Luckily, you didn’t have to wonder for too long. 

“That’s Gakuganji,” Nobara began, eyes tracking him as he took a seat next to Yaga at the head of the conference table. Nodding toward the other two, who took a seat next to Nanami, she continued, “And they’re Mei Mei and Utahime, the other two supervisors for the engineering department. Mei Mei works on the aesthetics design and functionality, Utahime does the coding and software.”

“And Nanami does the hardware, I’m guessing?” 

“Correct.”

  From the head of the table, Yaga stood and spoke to the room. “Now that everyone is present, let’s begin.”

And the meeting proceeded exactly the way Nobara said it would–it was a debriefing. Yaga let you know that one of their weapons had been taken, gave you a timeline of when they thought it took place, confessed that whoever did it was smart enough to hack into their surveillance system and wipe the footage (that one sort of made you feel good), and swore that they had Syndicate Scouts out there looking for the weapon right now. 

“A similar issue has taken place before with a previous weapon, but was located very quickly thanks to a tracking chip that was installed in the device. We’re in the process of turning on this weapon’s chip, but we’re running into a few difficulties. To save you all from having to listen to me talk about things I’m unfamiliar with, I’ll let Nanami continue.”

Your direct supervisor cleared his throat before speaking. 

“We believe that during combat, the chip was destroyed due to its placement within the device’s hardware structure. This was no doubt a design flaw, one that could have been prevented.” He passed a pointed glare toward his colleague, Mei Mei, who only waved him off with an arrogant smirk. “With that being said, there was a secondary chip installed within the lining of the cranium, but it can only activate if the device is powered on. Luckily, we got a brief reading the day after the security breach.”

You felt your stomach drop.

“But you said it was destroyed,” someone spoke up.

“Correct. This proves that whoever stole it was able to fix the damage and power up the weapon. I understand how that may sound concerning, but with our secondary chip, we should be able to track him soon.”

“Why aren’t we tracking the reading you already have?” someone else in the group asked.

“It didn’t ping his location, it only told us that he had been powered back on before…” Nanami let out an exhausted sigh. “Before he manually turned it off.”

“He’s able to do that?” you asked, unable to help yourself. Whether you sounded incriminating to the others or not, you weren’t entirely sure, so you expanded on the question. “You created a chip that this device is able to turn off on its own?”

“It’s a flaw in the code,” Nanami stated at the same time Utahime sat forward in her seat, addressing him. 

“Nanami, the coding is perfect. This weapon is highly intelligent; that’s how it was programmed to be. It’s not surprising that it was able to figure out how to cut off the chip’s signal, and rather than blaming his coding, maybe we should evaluate the quality of the chip instead?”

“We’re not going to blame one another,” Yaga interrupted, making Utahime slump back into her chair. “Things happen, we’re experimenting. Working with highly advanced, intelligent technology is difficult at times, but we’ll get nothing accomplished if we dwell on our setbacks. Now, we know that this model has been stubborn from the start, which is why we developed backup plans. If this device doesn’t establish a connection with the secondary chip, we’ll send out our previous cataclysmic weapon to search for the missing one-”

Gakuganji scoffed, “But it’s defective-”

“We’re aware, but Nanami has assured me that with a little rewiring, it’s possible to turn it into a scout that can work alongside the ones we already have.” Still, Gakuganji seemed entirely put off by the suggestion, which led Yaga to continue, “There is no other model that is capable of keeping up with this new device. Let’s say Satoru defects like the other, how are we supposed to drag it back here?”

“So your solution is to send another defective weapon out there? You remember the brief time that they spent working alongside one another before. It was almost enough to ruin this project altogether. You want to risk that again? With a weapon that is stronger than the last?”

“The way I see it, there’s an uncontrollable cataclysmic weapon out there, one that is capable of taking out the entire world on its own. What’s the harm in sending out another if there’s a chance to locate Satoru, and bring it back?”

“The harm? What if they both take the side of the enemy?”

“Then the world will end a lot faster than we anticipated.” Sensing the stares of his employees, Yaga addressed the rest of the room. “We’ll wait 48 hours to see if Satoru establishes a connection. In the meantime, prepare to deploy the other weapon.”

Your mind was still reeling with all the new information as you walked beside your fellow apprentices. Your supervisors led the way toward the laboratories. 

“What’s the story behind the previous weapon?” you asked quietly, leaning toward Nobara.

“I’m not entirely sure. I wasn’t here for that part, so all I’ve heard are the rumors. It was their first attempt at a cataclysmic weapon. Then they made Satoru to be its companion. They worked together pretty well at first, but then they started putting more funding into Satoru to make him stronger, and the other had an internal malfunction that they didn’t catch during the mandatory pre-deployment inspection. They sent it out one day, and it couldn’t differentiate between humans and the enemy anymore. It killed a lot of people.”

“I never heard about that.”

“Yeah, because they keep it under wraps. They told the media it was an act of domestic terrorism, but they didn’t release any of the details. Society would flip if they knew our weapons were defective enough to do something like that.”

The three supervisors took a different turn in the hallway than what you remembered from your first day. It was then that you realized that this was only your second day, and you were already dabbling with domestic terrorism and rogue androids. 

But at least you can’t say that your life was boring.

Was that a good thing? You weren’t sure anymore.

Nanami scanned his badge, prompting the doors to slide open. The three leads began working as soon as they had access, while the other three stood around, waiting for instructions. You, however, were taking in your new surroundings and the things that were within them. Specifically, a human-sized pod with a glass door that allowed you to see the body it was harboring inside–the body that was fully awake and blinking at you. 

For some reason, it made you nauseous.

You knew it wasn’t human, thanks to the multitude of wires that were forced into its skin, but other than that, it looked as realistic as Satoru. The only difference between the two was the change of appearance. 

This weapon had long black hair, lavender colored eyes, and from what you could remember from the time you saw Satoru stark naked, this weapon was also shorter, broader, and more muscular than him.

You stepped up to the glass and noted that he looked just as emotionless as Satoru does. 

Does this model have emotions, too? Does it have likes and dislikes? Or was that a feature they only added to the newer model?

You didn’t want to ask because you didn’t want to know the answer. 

“Who was in charge of cleaning its pod the day we took Satoru to the arena?” you heard Nanami ask, garnering your attention away from the original weapon to see that he was inspecting the empty pod that was placed right across from the other one. 

“Me,” Yuji admitted a bit sheepishly.

Nanami sighed, “You left the smudges on the glass again, Yuji.”

“I know, but he liked them,” the man argued lightly, trying to hold his ground, but not too much that it pisses off your supervisor. “He always drew them when he’d see me.”

“I don’t care. This looks dirty.” Nanami stepped back, moving toward the other pod. On the wall beside the upright fixture, he pressed a button, and instantly, the other weapon powered down. 

“We’re going to take this one to start rewiring it. You’re going to stay and clean the pod the right way.” Nanami turned to you then, ordering, “And you’re going to stay and clean this pod. I want them sparkling, understand?”

You nodded, and Yuji gave a verbal confirmation. 

The doors on the occupied pod slid open, and Nanami, with the help of Mei Mei and Megumi, placed the weapon onto a cart before wheeling it out of the room. When they were gone, the lab doors closed, leaving you and Yuji alone in the room to clean. 

“Man, I hate cleaning,” he complained to himself as he moved to wheel out a small cart of cleaning supplies. “I always feel bad.”

“Feel bad about what?” you asked, picking up a rag and some cleaner from the caddy. 

“Come here and look.” He waved you over, stepping to the side before pointing to what he was talking about: a little smiley face. You could barely see it. Quickly, you were reminded of the smiley face Satoru drew in the condensation on the bathroom mirror at your apartment. 

Something about it pulled on your heartstrings.

“Why does he do that?”

Yuji shrugged. “Dunno. When I’d bring him back here at the end of the day, I always told him I was sorry about having to put him in here. He’d tell me it was fine, that it’s where he was supposed to be. When the doors would slide shut, he’d breathe on the glass and then draw them. I always thought that maybe it was his way of trying to smile since he isn’t able to.”

And if seeing the smiley face pulled on your heartstrings, hearing Yuji’s theory fucking severed them. 

“Oh. That’s… kinda sad.”

“Yeah,” he agreed with a sigh. “I hope they’re able to find him. I really liked him.”

“Why’s that?”

“He was just really human-like. I know he’s not, but it felt like he was.” He leaned over and pressed the button to open the pod door. “They actually programmed him not to form bonds with humans; he wasn’t supposed to be able to remember our names, but he always remembered mine. Megumi and Nobara’s names, too. I don’t know, he just felt like a friend sometimes. Kinda sucked watching the last fight.”

“Did you cry?” you tried to joke, hoping to lighten the mood. 

Yuji exhaled a laugh and began wiping away the smiley face smudge. “No. I knew his manufacturers could’ve fixed him. Hell, I could’ve done it on my own. I even thought about asking to take him home so I could have fixed him for free, but I knew they wouldn’t have let me. Probably because they know I  wouldn’t have brought him back, but don’t tell anyone I said that.”

Oh, he was making you think about stupid things.

“I won’t. Swear. But, Yuji…”

You were stupid for even contemplating it.

“Hm?” he paused, looking in your direction. 

So, so stupid.

“Can you keep a secret?”

“No. Fucking. Way.”

“Yeah…”

Yuji stood beside you in your living room, staring down at Satoru, who sat on the floor in front of your TV with a bowl of sugar and a spoon. If he were able to, I’m sure Satoru would have looked just as shocked as Yuji.

“You’re the thief,” he stated, voice colored with the utmost surprise. 

“I am.” You glanced at him with worry. “You’re not going to snitch, right?”

That snapped him out of his staring contest with Satoru. “No! Of course not! You’d get in so much trouble.”

Contrary to what he promised you, he did, in fact, snitch. You knew this to be true when, twenty minutes later, you heard rapid, harsh knocking on your front door. The conversation Yuji seemed to be entranced in with Satoru didn’t even break when the knocking began.

“Yuji?” you called out, tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention. 

“What?” Then, hearing the knocking, he said, “It’s just Megumi and Nobara. They want to see him.”

“You said you weren’t going to snitch!”

“I didn’t!” he argued. 

“Megumi and Nobara are at my door right now! That’s snitching!”

“Okay, but I didn’t snitch to anyone who would be upset about this! They wanted to get him out of there, too!”

“Let us in before I knock this door down!” you heard Nobara’s muffled voice call out from behind the door. 

Okay, maybe you made a mistake. 

Another one. 

Another big, bad mistake.

You were on a fucking roll.

<3!!

||Masterlist|| <Last< >Next>

[w0rm3y]

Gideon: Hey, that little pipsqueak of yours? I think she actually likes you. I caught her staring at you many times.

Caleb: Hm? I sure hope so. We've been dating since forever.

Gideon: WHAT? IT WASN'T ONE SIDED!?

Caleb: WHY WOULD YOU THINK THAT!?

Gideon: YOU ALWAYS YEARN FOR HER LIKE IT'S A ONE SIDED LOVE.

Caleb: What's that supposed to mean!?

[w0rm3y]

*ੈ✩˚Sukuna×wife!reader ₊˚⊹ᰔ

In which the king of curses answers all the questions about his appearance which his pretty little wife is curious about

Sunlight pours in through the tall windows in slanted lines, gilding the dark wood floors in gold. The scent of incense curls through the air,faintly floral, warm. It’s quiet. Still. No curses clawing at the gates. No sorcerers to dismember. No blood. No chaos. Just peace, rare and almost too fragile for a place like this.

And in the heart of that stillness lies him, Ryomen Sukuna. The King of Curses. Slayer of Thousands. Terror of the Heian Era.

No one really knows how someone like you ended up with him.Perhaps,no one would dare to question,not when they know he walks beside you like a living calamity, draped in silk and menace -- in all his glory.

But when he rests his head in your lap, eyes closed, breath steady,

you think the answer might be simple-

he lets you stay.

And more than that

he listens.

"Hmm...I was thinking about something Ryo", you say softly,as you comb your fingers through his hair.

One of his four eyes peek open as it looks up at you,

"What is it woman?" He says

"your hair...do you dye it?" You ask, gentle amused.

"it's natural" he says.

“Burn the ends sometimes,” he admits, begrudgingly. “Makes it darker.”

You hum. “So you do cursed hair rituals. You're adorable.”

"You’re insufferable.”

Still, he doesn’t move. His head remains pillowed on your thighs like it was made to be there.

You reach down to brush a finger along the edge of the hard plate which lays on his face , covering his cheek and eyes,

“And this? Demon jewelry? Ancient warlord fashion?”

"Cursed armor, it's bound to me".

"Very on brand for you, I must say" you tease,

"you're getting brave"

"am I? will you do something about it?"

His jaw flexes as he says, "you wanna find out?"

All he receives is another giggle,

"alright, now tell me, why have I never seen you with a beard? Don't you grow one?",

He doesn’t open his eyes. Just exhales through his nose like you’ve asked the most offensive question imaginable.

“Because I shave,” he mutters.

“You shave? Like… regularly?”

“Do you think my face stays smooth by divine will alone?”

You blink. Then grin.

“Honestly, yes.”

"shut up"

“Fine, fine,” you say, running a finger along the markings on his chest. “These? Tattoos. Are they real?”

“Those are my markings,some are carved. Some were born with me. Some are my power.”

You blink, "you carved them yourself?"

"mmm, no one else was worthy enough to touch me"he grumbles.

"so dramatic"

"Okay what about your hair cut? Who cuts it? Do you go to like a cursed salon,can I come next tim-"

His eyes snap open,all four of them. Sharp. Burning.

“That’s it.” His voice is low, dangerous, and entirely too calm. “Enough questions, woman.”

You grin like you’ve won something. “Aw, did I reach the limit?”

“You passed it. Three questions ago.”

“But you were answering.”

“I was tolerating. There’s a difference.”

He shifts,sudden, fluid, and predatory,until it’s you on your back, and he’s above you now, eyes narrowed like a storm about to break.

“And now,” he murmurs, voice a velvet threat, “you’re going to be quiet.”

You blink up at him, smiling sweetly.

“What if I’m not?”

He bares his teeth.

“Then I’ll give you something better to do with that mouth.”

Yeah that's enough questions for today. Not that you would mind-

A/n- These are questions I would personally ask him , it's 4 am I need to sleep, but tell me how this is?🧍🏻‍♀️also this isn't edited-

[w0rm3y]

Three: Rewired For Humanity- S. Gojo

CataclysmicWeapon!Gojo x Engineer!Reader ˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ cw: none wc: 2.3k a/n: this one is a bit shorter, but I wanted to post before I go out today. also, it was loosely edited so there might be typos ||Masterlist|| <Last< >Next>

You stared down at the newest message you’d received this morning from Nobara, letting you know that work had been cancelled due to a security breach at the Syndicate, and that you were free to stay home. While that would be good news to most, that was actually the worst news you could have possibly received this morning. 

A security breach definitely means they know Satoru is missing from the facility, but it also means they have no idea who took him. If they did, you imagined they would have been knocking on your apartment door right now. Briefly, you wondered if anyone had found out about his energy expulsion in the forest yesterday afternoon. If that was the case, they would surely be checking the security footage of all surrounding businesses to see what was up. 

With a groan, you rolled onto your stomach, mashing your face down into your pillow to release a scream, and when you were finished, you felt just a little lighter. Flipping over onto your back again, you stared at the ceiling, wondering what you were actually going to do about this. All would have been semi-okay if the board hadn’t agreed to more funding for Satoru, but all would have been perfectly swell if you hadn’t taken him in the first place.

There was always the option to somehow drop him off at the facility and pretend like you didn’t take him at all, but there’s no way you could avoid Satoru after that. He would see you there eventually–you were now a part of the team that created him–and you know he would ask questions about it. Which could only mean that if you dropped him off, you’d have to leave it all behind and start over somewhere else. Somewhere where the Syndicate would never find you, because if they did, that was definite prison time. 

But if you left, you’d be out of a job, and more than that, you’d be abandoning your dream job, the one you worked so hard for–only for you to throw it away in a matter of minutes after deciding to bring Satoru home two days ago, which was very, very stupid. 

Why the hell did you do that again?

Oh, right, because he looked so fragile when he was severed down the middle, and you wanted to do anything you could to fix him and bring him back to life, as any good weapon engineer would. You were doing the world a service by powering him up, fixing him for free, and teaching him how to be human-like.

Or maybe you’re just a thief with a savior complex who was now seriously regretting her impulsive decisions.

But staying in bed all day, weeping over your mistakes, was no way to fix them. With that in mind, you pushed yourself up and onto your feet and shuffled toward the kitchen for a much-needed cup of coffee. When you emerged from the hallway, you paused in your steps when you noticed Satoru sitting on the living room floor, in front of the TV, spooning something into his mouth while the cooking channel played. 

“At least he’s stimulated,” you tiredly grumbled to yourself as you continued on your path to the kitchen. 

After mixing up your instant coffee granules in the hot water, you poured in your preferred serving of milk and reached for the sugar container in the cupboard. Only your hand hit the blank, empty shelf. Brows furrowing, you glanced up at the shelf to see that it was, in fact, empty; no sugar container in sight. 

Then it clicked. 

“Satoru!” you announced, entering the living room. From his spot on the floor, he looked up at you, sugar spoon sliding out of his mouth. “What are you doing?”

“Having breakfast. The woman on your television is making candied strawberries and said they were really sweet, and when she showed me how to make them, I learned about sugar and found some in your cabinet.” He brought another scoop to his mouth, his chews sounding like a mouthful of sand. “I’m not fond of the texture, but I do like the taste.”

“Well, you’re not supposed to eat it straight,” you snapped, grabbing the container from his lap and storming back toward the kitchen with him right behind you.“You use sugar to bake with, or you use it to sweeten things like coffee or tea.”

“I’ve never had either.”

You spoon a couple of scoops of sugar into your coffee and stir it around before raising the mug to him. 

“Then today is your lucky day.”

He glanced at it, eyes filling with doubt as the steam of it wafted into his face. 

“Is it sweet?”

“I think it is.”

Squinting, he took it into his hands, and rather than taking a hesitant sip, he took in an entire mouthful, downing nearly half of it. With his cheeks full, he grimaced, but forced himself to swallow it while rushing the mug back into your hands. 

“That is not good at all.”

“Good, then I don’t have to worry about you taking all the coffee,” you hummed, “How much sugar did you eat, exactly? And do you have to do that whole thing like yesterday? Because I really, really don’t want to hike through the woods again.”

He shook his head. “I was expelling the energy in small quantities as I consumed it.” 

You nodded, ending the conversation in exchange for silence. Awkward silence–at least it was for you. Satoru, however, didn’t seem to notice as he stared at you, sipping on your coffee, actively trying to avoid his eyes. Maybe it was that you had seen his bare behind last night, or just the simple fact that your probable prison sentence was looming on the horizon, but you were feeling a little shy to be in his presence. 

“What research are you conducting today?” he asked, which left your brain blanking on an answer. 

You really needed to start thinking ahead instead of focusing on the negative outcome of it all–that would only ensure that you get caught. If you were strategic enough, all of this could end pleasantly… maybe.

Since the Syndicate was most likely searching for Satoru, there was no way you could leave your apartment anytime soon, but how could you turn a lackluster, stay-in day into a training experience? You needed to somehow expose him to humans without actually exposing him to humans. And you suppose there was only one way to do that.

“Want to watch a movie?”

Okay, so what you actually turned on wasn’t a movie, but it was overly dramatic like one. While you were searching through your options on your streaming platform, you had the bright idea of turning on Desperate Housewives, which, contrary to what you believed at first, wasn’t reality TV, but rather, it was a soap opera. Maybe that wasn’t the best thing for him to watch because it wasn’t an accurate depiction of real human emotions and interactions, but after the first episode, you were hooked on it yourself. 

And surprisingly, so was Satoru. 

“So,” Satoru began as the first episode’s ending credits rolled across the screen. “They killed off the main character in the first one.”

“Yes.”

“And now her neighbors are trying to figure out what happened to her?”

“Mhm.”

“Even though they know she killed herself.”

 “But they don’t know why she killed herself. She had that letter, remember?” You looked toward the other end of the couch that Satoru was occupying, seeing that he was still staring at the TV as he had for the entire hour that the show played. “Did you like it?”

“Not really, but I’d like to know why she killed herself, too. You may proceed with the next episode.”

Suppressing a chuckle, you clicked onto the next episode. 

The day continued on like that, watching episode after episode, answering the stray questions from Satoru during the show, and then having an in-depth conversation while the end credits roll before starting the next one. He was getting pretty engrossed in it all, even getting mad when the characters would do something stupid, or a little antsy when they were about to be caught for doing said stupid thing. Satoru’s reactions were almost as entertaining as the show itself.

“You remind me of Susan,” he admitted at one point, after watching Susan embarrass herself in front of Mike yet again. 

His connection made you scoff. 

“How so?”

“She puts herself in situations where she gets flustered and then makes it worse by doing things that make her more flustered.”

He noticed that about you? Wait-

“You know when I’m flustered?”

“Of course, I do. Your face turns red, and your heart rate spikes so much that I can see it pulse in your neck. Then you stutter, and I can tell that your mouth gets dry, but you keep talking like you’re trying to convince yourself that you’re not flustered, which only makes it worse. You blink rapidly, too, and you try to smile, but it’s always forced, and-”

“Okay!” you cut him off abruptly, which pulls attention away from the screen, putting it solely on you. “I didn’t realize you were that perceptive.”

“I’m the most observant being that’s ever been created. Which is why I know when you’re lying.”

As soon as those words left his mouth, you felt all of the characteristics he named off start to rush over you. Reddened face, quick heartbeat, dry mouth, rapid blinking, and smiling-

“You’re flustered now because you know that I know, right?”

“I-I– what do you know?” you settled on, knowing that was probably the worst question you could’ve asked in response to his admission, because it was leading, and it almost proved that there was something that you were lying about.

“I know that I’m not supposed to be here with you.”

And there it was–the truth. And he hit the nail right on the head with the utmost precision because he’s fucking Satoru.

You couldn’t form words even if you had something to say.

“I knew you were lying as soon as you powered me back on and said you were conducting research, but it's obvious you put me back together because I’d been defeated in the arena.” He gestured to his body.

“But… how?”

“I ran through my memories right as I powered on again. I remember being hit by the enemy.” The corner of his mouth twitched just a bit, the faintest smirk flickering before disappearing again. “Because you forgot to clear my cache. Which is always the first step-”

“I know!”

He exhaled what you assumed to be a laugh.

“I just don’t know why you took me from the facility. Obviously, you had a reason if you did so while knowing what would happen to you if they found out I was gone–which I’m assuming has happened, yes?”

Unable to lie any further, you nodded.

Mentally, you began the process of accepting defeat. 

Until he spoke again. 

“I’m not going to inform them of this, so don’t worry. I don’t want to go back.”

To say you were shocked would be an understatement. After he’d seemed so loyal to his manufacturers, he’s telling you that he doesn’t want to return to them?

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew the truth from the start?”

“It’s entertaining and mentally stimulating to observe you while flustered. I thought it would be in my best interest to pretend to follow your stupid plan, but I also assumed that they knew that I was gone, and I didn’t want you to panic and send me back.”

“You…” You wet your lips, trying to come to terms with the information you’d just been given. “You really don’t want to return to them?”

“No.”

“Why?”

 “I like the freedom here. You don’t lock me up when I’m not in use, and you don’t talk to me like you’re afraid I’m going to kill you. You let me watch TV, and you take me to get ice cream. You don’t look at me like my manufacturers do, you look at me like I’m a human.”

His explanation pulled on your heartstrings, acting as a reminder of why you took him in the first place. 

“I was created to be as sentient as a human, but they never treated me like I was. I was given human emotions, but they forgot to give me the equipment to express them properly because that part wasn’t necessary if I were to be used as a tool. I think by doing that, they forget just how sentient I am, but you don’t do that. So, I want to stay here.”

It’s settled then. There was no way you were taking Satoru back to the facility. How could you after he told you all of that?

“Okay. You can stay. I’ll make sure of it.”

He gave a curt nod and relaxed back into the couch.

“So, you have emotions. What all do you have?”

“All of the innate ones that humans have. Happiness, sadness, anger, fear, disgust. They’re necessary to work alongside humans properly.”

“What about the emotions that humans learn?”

“What would those be?”

You pursed your lips, mulling over your answer.

“Shame and guilt. Jealousy, hatred, or resentment. Love, too.”

“Love was specifically blocked from my range of emotions. I cannot learn it since it would ultimately be a flaw in my code. It’s a hindrance to any progress I could make. I suppose the others could be learned the longer I spend in society.”

That’s not fair…

“Alright, what if we work on these new emotions one at a time?”

“Okay.”

“Let’s start with the easiest one first: hatred. While watching Desperate Housewives, which character did you like the least?”

He didn’t miss a beat when he said, “Martha.”

The quickness of it made you giggle. “I don’t like her, either. So, let’s see how bad she can get. Maybe you’ll master hatred by the end of the night."

ty for reading <3!!

||Masterlist|| <Last< >Next>

[w0rm3y]

Me happily reading a nanami fic and then they mention him going to shibuya for a work trip:

[w0rm3y]

ＷＡＹ ＯＵＴ ＴＨＥＲＥ 𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

series masterlist

✦ ── pairing: lumberjack!sukuna x citygirl!reader

✦ ── synopsis: taking a hike, alone, in a massive forest to escape your mundane life may not have been the greatest idea you'd conjured up—a realization you'd come to soon after you managed to lose your map miles inland. but when a lumberjack who knows the land like the back of his hand offers you a place to stay, you think maybe your life isn't so tragic after all. besides, for the sake of your safety, who knows what lingers in the shadows after nightfall?

✦ ── contents: lost in the forest au, forced proximity, bantering, angst, trauma/torture aspects, minor injuries, eventual romance, eventual smut, no use of y/n, mental health and depression struggles, suicide, blood and violence, mentions of war—pls remember that this is a fictional work inspired by a comic and i am not using this to rewrite history or treat any tragedies unseriously! tags to be added.

✦ ── a/n: this is going to be my 1k followers special but i've already got a solid outline and plenty written. i believe this will end up being a multi-chapter fic. can't wait to release this, so check below the threshold for a teaser ;D

✦ ── word count: 35k/?

archive ─ playlist

volume one // womb

volume two // amateur blood

volume three // you don't mess around with slim

volume four // eternal life

volume five // todo a su tiempo

volume six // sympathy for the devil

✦ interlude // a man needs a maid

volume seven // forwards beckon rebound

✦ interlude // ???

volume eight // ???

comment to be added to the taglist (status: open)

art by outdmilk on twt

teaser 𖠰 ✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

After getting fully dressed, you shuffled your socks on before you let out a loud hiss—a sudden piercing pressure on your ankle.

Gently setting your sock down, you sat atop a nearby rock and crossed your legs to take a closer look. 

It seemed that the thorn that poked you earlier had done more than just that—the area swelling and red. The spot, previously a microscope hole, had grown and was practically glowing and exuding a heat.

You pressed a finger against it, immediately regretting it when it sent pain spiking through your veins, the skin bulbous.

“You’re not making it out of the forest any time soon in that condition.”

You yelped with a jump, full-body flinching and swinging your head behind you to see Sukuna towering over you, eyes narrowed to slits as he eyed your injury. “Jesus. Warn a woman next time?”

He ignored you, something you’ve noticed he has a habit of doing, as he folded in half, skimming a hand over your puncture wound. A tight whimper left your lips, his calloused finger pad ghosting over it before he straightened out. “Can you walk on it?”

You attempted to pull the sock back over before you winced, heart fluttering in nerves. “I-I can try,” you stammered out, trying to maneuver it carefully before he clicked his tongue.

“Fuck, alright,” he grunted, as if mulling something over before he stepped in front of you. He crouched down on one knee, jeans digging into the mud yet he didn’t seem to care. “Hop on.”

Your maw fell slack at the sight, suddenly feeling incredibly hot at the sight. This crude and ruffish man was offering to carry you all of the sudden.

“Uh, i-it’s alright. I can walk–”

“Quit your rambling and get on.” 

You shut up at his interruption, muttering a ‘rude much?’ he didn’t acknowledge under your breath before standing to a wobble, doing your best not to bump your ankle into anything as the pain began to flare to what felt like your bones.

Oddly enough, he was practically your height on his knees, his massive form slightly intimidating you.

You brought your hands over his shoulders and clasped them in front of him, hoping he couldn’t smell the musk radiating from your sweat-soaked clothing.

As you tried to wrap your legs around his midsection, he suddenly rose, wrapping his massive hands along the underside of your thighs and straightening to his full height.

You did everything to ignore the flip of your stomach as he did so, the touch burning your skin.

Something sizzled in your mind, before you realized how leggy this man actually was. “Could make a joke about the weather up here, but it’s really quite nice,” you snickered, head ducking between his hat, cheek right beside his, as your eyes raked over his bird's eye view.

“Shut it or I’m dropping you.”

[w0rm3y]

I believe that no matter how hot it gets, they're still glued together

Idk why but in my mind suguru loves heat

[w0rm3y]

╭─────.★..─╮ *☆wormy☆ she/her ☆23☆* ╰─..★.─────╯

Graduate of Hot Fictional Men University Ph.D in Crybabyism Certified in DILF Obsession

<!SERIES>

Rewired For Humanity M. List- S. Gojo Strawberry Wine- SatoSugu (only on ao3)

<one.shots/> - ao3 collection

Pool Boy 4 Hire- S. Gojo HOA Horrors- R. Sukuna Delirium Fed Delusions- R. Sukuna

est. July 2025 :)