yuujisdeadlovedones

[yuujisdeadlovedones]

glowing eyes demon,,,yea,,

[yuujisdeadlovedones]

[yuujisdeadlovedones]

i don’t want megumi to heal and find peace i want him to snap and start acting like his father. give him a gun

[yuujisdeadlovedones]

Jujutsu Kaisen is about the universal experience of your cat (King of Curses Ryoumen Sukuna) rejecting the beautiful cat tree you carved yourself out of rare woods and upholstered with vintage fabrics (your beautiful baby boy who you did experiments on and gave birth to sans epidural) because he prefers playing with the box it came in (Fushiguro Megumi).

[yuujisdeadlovedones]

꒰ ✦ ꒱ satoru gojo ! i have an excellent father, his strength is making me stronger

🗁category : familiar

🗐 content : father figure!gojo satoru, father's day , fluff , fem!reader sees satoru as father figure . ⚠︎ warning : none . english isn't my first lenguage so, grammar mistakes, maybe . 🗐 synopsis:  it's father's day, and satoru had never received a gift on that day because, technically, he is not a father. however, this year was different.

the story of how you met satoru gojo was nothing extraordinary. it started in a bureaucratic office in the jujutsu world, where, in the eyes of the higher-ups, you were nothing more than their next piece of paperwork for the afternoon. you were just a girl with the surname of a minor clan that had disintegrated because of its own arrogance, too young to understand what had really happened, but old enough to know that, for better or worse, you were a sorceress.

gojo met you when he was barely in his twenties, already carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders before you were even born. when he received the news that he had been assigned as your legal guardian, he complained all the way from tokyo to kyoto, muttering that he wasn't a babysitter, that he already had enough to do between missions and making sure the fushiguros didn't starve to death, asking if there wasn't anyone else available, but above all, why him? but when he saw you, alone in the hallway of that headquarters, wearing a uniform that was too big for you and with an expression that didn't ask for pity, only... that someone not leave you alone, his complaints stopped.

loneliness.

satoru understood loneliness very well.

he took you by the hand without asking your opinion or anyone else's, claiming that this was his idea.

“don't cry, i'm not as bad as those decrepit old men probably told you,” he said, even though you hadn't cried.

from then on, although you weren't officially his daughter, you shared many silly jokes, heavy training sessions, and moments that were too sentimental for satoru's taste. you always looked happy to see him, there was genuine admiration in your eyes, not 'cause he was the strongest wizard of modern times, but 'cause he had filled the empty seat at every parent-teacher meeting at school, no matter how busy he was, he had taken care of you, fed you, even trained you.

he was always there. 

first day of school? every year he drove you right to the school gate, no matter how much you said it wasn't necessary. first heartbreak? he brought you chocolates and threatened to throw a purple one at the person who broke your heart. your first mission to exorcise a curse? he finished a mission in record time to go and record and take photos of you fighting.

curses don't show up in photos, so it looked like you were fighting the air, but it was worth it, according to him.

that day in june, the tokyo jujutsu high campus was unusually quiet. you had been checking and rechecking the decoration and contents of a small baby blue cardboard box, the same one you had been carrying around since morning. you had decorated it yourself with markers, crooked stickers, and a crayon-drawn heart that read:

“happy father's day, satoru-sensei 💙”

now, for almost 30 minutes, you had been hiding near the threshold of the teachers' room, peeking out half your face, watching to see if he was alone, if he was busy, if... if it was worth interrupting.

satoru, of course, noticed you from the first glimpse. with his six eyes activated and a paternal sense sharper than any other sensor, he had sensed your presence. he made you wait. he pretended to be busy with a file he wasn't even really reading, listening to yaga discuss something with shoko, playing candy crush on his phone. but every time he felt your small presence peeking out and hiding, he couldn't help but smile.

until he finally decided to intervene, he knew you well enough to know that you needed a little push. so without warning, he teleported behind you.

“who are you hiding from now?” satoru whispered in your ear, mimicking the cautious position you were in.

“ah!” you jumped a little along with the scream, turning around with a red face and your heart pounding as if you had seen a special rank curse, the box almost slipping out of your hands from the shock. “i thought i raised you to be braver than that,” he said jokingly, crossing his arms. “are you spying on your sensei to learn a trick or two from me? or are you going to confess that you were the one who put a red sock in megumi’s white laundry?”

you didn't say anything, but you puffed out your cheeks, holding back a laugh as you remembered the prank on megumi. but once you remembered why you had come there, you lowered your gaze and offered him the box with both hands, trembling a little. what if he hated it? what if the cookies tasted gross? what if he made fun of you?

all kinds of questions flooded your mind, but there was no turning back now, so you decided to speak. “happy father's day, satoru-sensei.”

satoru blinked. once, twice, three times slowly, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. “huh?”

“i decorated everything myself. and... and i tried to make desserts, although i think they burned a little,” you said quickly, your voice getting a little shaky at the end. “just... thank you for... taking care of me, i guess. even though you didn't need to, even though you didn't have to take on the role of a father, you did, and... and you never left me alone.”

satoru took the box. he examined it carefully as if it were a sacred treasure or something—although he didn't even treat real sacred treasures with as much respect as this. there were irregularly shaped cookies, a brownie that looked like a brick but had his name spelled out in half-melted m&m's, and a small strawberry cupcake leaning at an angle, held up by divine will. but everything smelled sweet, not just because of the sugar, but because of the care you had put into it all.

and for a moment, he said nothing, not even one of his typical comments came off his lips. he just looked at the doodle you had made with markers of him and you.

“you... sappy brat...” he muttered with a crooked smile. then he bent down a little to be at your height, lifting his glasses so you could look him in the eyes. “you know what? you’re officially my favorite daughter now. sorry, megumi.”

you let out a soft laugh. “i won’t tell him, i promise.”

“good. i couldn't take another one of her death glares.” then, without another word, he hugged you. a big, rib-crushing hug. “thank you, really,” he said quietly, almost as if he were about to cry. “i haven't been the model father you should have, but i'm glad that... even so, you see me this way. as a father. that means more than you know.”

“you're the best i could ever have, ” you murmured.

“of course i am, there's no question about that, because i'm the strongest, ” he replied, breaking the sentimental moment with a chuckle.

later, you sat with him on the steps of the training ground, eating the poorly made desserts as the sun began to set. of course, before that, satoru took the time to show off to everyone that his daughter had given him a gift. he swallowed the brick-like brownie as if it were a gourmet treat and promised you that next time you two would bake together.

“are you my dad 'cause you're the strongest, or are you the strongest 'cause you're my dad?”

└──» ✎ 𝐁𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐋𝐔𝐕 🖇 2025

[yuujisdeadlovedones]

we should always hold hands whenever we cross the road

[yuujisdeadlovedones]

two characters: flirty banter, clearly getting off on the power dynamics between them

people who are scared of going to hell for masturbating: he loves him like a son

me, hauving covid: can he call him that while they fuck

[yuujisdeadlovedones]

SLAP HIM SILLY!!

FT | Satoru ༝ Suguru ༝ Kento ༝ Choso ༝ Toji ༝ ˖ Sukuna.

Desc | They thought they were the protectors, until they get thrown petty comments their way and you're already winding up your slap. ➜ They're unprepared surely, but definitely complaining.

Cw l fluff + established rls. Reader calls Toji a 'cringe' nickname | ML | Other RECENT smaus? ➜ 1 ˖ 2 ˖ 3 ˖ & 4.

Divider/Boarders produced by | enchanthings-a & hyuneskkami

Song written by Koi'lani/@aquasoftware.

REBLOGS, COMMENTS, AND LIKES ARE HEAVILY APPRECIATED!! THANK YOU <3

A/n : Thank you for the request @cr0w-427

[yuujisdeadlovedones]

Thinking about Husband!Sukuna who just lets you do whatever the fuck you want now.

There was a time when he protested. A time when he had pride, pride in being a man, in being a fearsome king, commanding respect wherever he went.

But you?

You were relentless. So utterly, absurdly relentless that at some point, he just stopped fighting it.

He had never been a man of many words, and marriage hadn’t changed that. It was only a week ago that he sat comfortably on his throne, heavy head resting in his palm as he drifted off to sleep, until he was interrupted by the sudden weight (or loss?) on his chest.

A lesser man would have panicked, but your husband? No. He merely took a long inhale, an even longer exhale, and cracked one eye open to find your tiny, mischievous hands cupping his pecs like a scientist.

“They don’t really move like mine,” you mused, experimentally bouncing the firm muscle in your grasp.

He didn’t know if the subject of this experiment was his breaking point or whatever nonsense idea had wormed its way into your head this time.

Your expression was serious, too serious, as you moved in front of him, gripping the hem of his robe as if a scholar prepped for a dissertation.

“May I remove this?”

His eyes, half-lidded with the dull exhaustion that only centuries of being a king could bring, slowly trailed to meet yours. His lips pressed into a flat line.

You took his silence as consent.

And soon enough, his shirt was discarded, leaving him bare from the waist up as you squinted in intense concentration, leaning in close to his chest.

It was pathetic, really. The size difference. Your husband was a mountain of a man, yes, his frame large enough to dwarf yours entirely. And yet, there you were, fingers struggling to span across his tits as you earnestly attempted to jiggle them, as if you could replicate your own softness on his ironclad frame.

At one point, you had both of his pecs squished together, testing them like some critical judge at a livestock competition.

“Wow, you’re a lot different than me.”

Oh, his lovely wife. His lovely wife, who was genuinely comparing her milk-producing breasts to those of a war-hardened king.

Oh, the patience he had for you.

And despite the sheer disrespect you continually brought upon the honor of Sukuna, the King, the Conqueror, the Lord of Curses…

He still let you.

And it never stopped.

Because right now, right this very moment, he was balls-deep inside you, your knees pinned to your chest as he fucked you senseless, guttural moans echoing in the grand chamber as he pounded into your dripping cunt.

The nights the lord would bed his wife was always the same, multiple orgasms, a sore throat, bruises painting your skin like a lover’s signature, and the brutal satisfaction of a man who knew he could ruin you.

There couldn’t have been a worse time, a worse thought, and for the first time in his life, Sukuna wished, prayed, for something to be different about his wife.

“W-wait, ‘Kuna- fuck- wait-!”

Because he never wanted you in pain, never wanted you to feel anything but pleasure despite the sixth climax of the night barreling toward him, he reluctantly halted.

Oh, may the lords above grant him the strength.

Because you, thoroughly fucked out, hair knotted, sweat glistening across your body, brought your trembling hands forward,

and groped his fucking tits.

Like he was some toy for you to hold onto.

“Okay, continue.”

He stilled. In shock? In horror? In spiritual agony?

Slowly, he tried to thwart at your hands, momentarily lifting one from under your knee, but-

“No, I said continue.”

That’s right. Your wish was his command.

So he continued. And every time his cock rammed deep into your walls, every time you moaned so sinfully, your little hands squeezed tighter.

It was almost comical, your soft, delicate fingers clutching at his immovable chest as if this was your god-given right.

With a grunt, he muttered, “Why must you do this?” His brows furrowed, thrusts becoming punishing.

Through your breathless whimpers, you somehow managed, “Ngh- I just- oh, god- like them.”

His cock twitched at your honesty.

His breasts flexing in tandem.

And when your shaking fingers dared to pinch his nipple…

Oh, that was when the real fun began.

“Fuck, don’t- fuck-” He spat through gritted teeth.

Neither of you could ignore the way his back arched the tiniest bit, the way his thrusts faltered for a split second as your fingers toyed with him.

You were too far gone to form coherent sentences, let alone fucking laugh, but your lips curled in amusement, jaw slack as the wet pat-pat-pat of his cock slamming into you filled the air.

“You think this shit is funny?”

His hold on you shifted. With inhuman ease, he lifted your legs, pressing them together straight up in the air, holding your feet in a single massive hand while his other gripped your thigh in a vice.

The new position devastating.

His thick cock dragged along every sensitive spot inside you, punching deep into your cunt, the head kissing your cervix with every pump.

It was enough to wreck you, your body shuddering as your next orgasm tore through you like divine wrath.

And Sukuna, normally composed and always in control, was panting.

As you both lay side by side afterward, spent and breathless, a singular, intrusive thought carved its way into your little head.

“...Can I be big spoon tonight?”

He didn’t respond, simply sighing and rolling onto his side. Letting you attempt to wrap your arms around his impossibly broad back.

Oh, his lovely, sweet wife.

Your hand reached down, fingers splaying, grabbing a handful of his ass.

A slow, agonizing inhale.

Then a measured, exasperated exhale.

“...No more tonight. Please.”

You couldn’t see his face, your own buried between his shoulder blades.

But maybe, juuust maybe, someone, somewhere, could say there was the barest twitch of a smile on his lips.

[yuujisdeadlovedones]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

© 𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒆 . no copying, translation or plagiarism authorised

[yuujisdeadlovedones]

gojo twitter links ꪆৎ

make sure to be logged into x beforehand !

he loves using his fingers

pounding into you after a bad day of school

size kink

ruining the cute panties he just bought you

he loves when you take control

fingering you so tenderly

morning birthday sex !

aftermath in the bathtub

[yuujisdeadlovedones]

hands up, time's up! || gojo satoru x teacher! wife! reader

warnings: minors do not interact!, explicit content (fingering, semi-voyeurism, semi-public sex), fem!reader, established relationship, Nanami being chronically underpaid

There’s an unspoken rule at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech that Gojo Satoru is not allowed, under any circumstances, alone in a room with you—at least not without the door left open.

There’s been too many occasions where a student would aimlessly wander into a common area (highlights include the cafeteria, the gymnasium, and behind the water cooler—nothing stops Gojo) and find the two of you in a…less than decent state.

However, the breaking point was one sweltering summer day, when Nanami found Yuji outside the teacher’s lounge:

Nanami trudges down the hallway, counting down the seconds until he can remove his sticky blazer and steal a drink from Gojo’s Pocari Sweat stash in the teachers’ communal fridge. The kids should be busy frolicking while Gojo ‘oversees’ (read: scrolls through his phone or torments you) their ‘training’ (read: aforementioned frolicking).

It’s the perfect opportunity to take a breather; Nanami’s calculated the situation down to a T.

What he doesn’t factor into his calculations is Yuji standing awkwardly outside the teacher’s lounge door, weight shifting from foot to foot.

His head shoots up when he notices Nanami’s approaching figure. “Oh, Nanamin! What’re you doing here?”

Nanami raises a brow in response. “I think it’s more fitting to ask why you’re here, Yuji. Why aren’t you training with Gojo right now?”

Yuji looks like a deer caught in headlights, and Nanami’s already fighting off the impeding headache. “Oh, well.. you see… Kugisaki and I were going to train together—Fushiguro said he didn’t wanna join us because we get annoying and goof off (which is not true, Nanamin, trust me! We work super hard together!!)—but then we remembered that Gojo-sensei said he’d teach us a different way to channel our cursed energies today, and we decided we wanted to practice that instead, but first we needed to…”

Nanami stands there, nodding slowly and pretending to listen while Yuji rambles on, but he’d already zoned out the moment Yuji brought up Gojo. Of course, it was that idiot’s fault, and of course, Nanami would need to clean up after him. He lets out a sigh, noting that Yuji has taken a break to breathe. “If he’s inside the teacher’s lounge, why haven’t you gotten him yet?”

Yuji halts midsentence, face instead turning an alarming shade of red. Oh, this can’t be good. Nanami steels himself. “…There’s some… noises… coming from inside and I…didn’t want to intrude.”

Of course. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together, and Nanami does not get paid enough to deal with this. He closes his eyes a moment, calming and bracing himself for the incoming nightmare material on the other side of the door. “That’s very kind of you, Yuji. Don’t worry, I’ll handle this. Why don’t you go join the others and I’ll send Gojo your way soon?”

Yuji perks up. “Thanks, Nanamin! You’re the best!” He leans in conspiratorially. “I’d cover your nose though—it sounds like Gojo-sensei’s tough time on the toilet in there, if you know what I mean.” He skips off with an exaggerated wink, leaving Nanami thanking every higher power that it was innocent Yuji and not too-jaded Megumi that walked on a potential Chernobyl 2.0.

Alright, time for Nanami to get this over with. Time to rip off the Band-Aid and face the carnage once and for all. Time to… time to stop stalling.

The door slides open with a bang and Nanami immediately looks to the ceiling, refusing to see whatever you and Gojo are up to.

You, however, jolt while in Gojo’s lap, his fingers pulling out of you and catching on your clit as he moves them to his mouth. You let out an involuntary whimper at the sharp stimulus. Nanami speaks loudly to drown out your noises. “You two. Have we not had enough discussions about this?”

“Aww, c’mon Nanamin! Don’t be such a—”

“Absolutely not, Gojo. In fact, you are the last person I wish to be speaking to right now.”

“Nanami! I’m so so sorry, oh my gosh. Um, can you give us a moment? We’ll be right with you, I promise!” You try swiveling your head to look over Gojo’s shoulder, but Gojo takes that as permission to grab your face and drag you into a kiss.

 “Mmpff!” You try to talk through the suctioned seal Gojo has on your mouth. “Justh gib me a thecond to—” You finally shove Gojo off and look at your poor coworker. Your hand covers Gojo’s mouth to block his attacks.

“Just give us a second, Nanami. I’m so so sorry, and I promise we’ll be out in two.” (“Five,” Gojo pipes up from behind your hand. You pinch him. Nanami ignores him.)

A deep, exhausted sigh comes from Nanami. “Please do not make me intervene again. I will be outside.”

Your attention returns to Gojo as the other man leaves. He looks too excited for the situation, ears perked like a dog and boner pressing even harder into your ass. “Satoru, c’mon. Let’s deal with the fallout and pray Nanami moves on from this.”

Gojo lifts you effortlessly and spins you so you’re straddling his hips and facing him. You feel like a limp kitten being dragged about. (You also feel your stomach flutter at the ease with which your husband manhandles you, but you ignore that.)

“It’s okay, sweetcheeks. Nanami’ll forget about it soon enough. Now, lemme apologize properly to your sweet lil cunt for being interrupted. I know she’s a finicky girl.” Gojo nuzzles his nose against your neck, pressing soft kisses down the column. His fingers sneak under your skirt, where your panties are completely soaked through and pushed aside, to rub small, slow circles over your clit.

“No, ah—Satoru, we need to—oh shit, fuck that’s—no, we need to—oooh, yes—to see what he wants—” your words are cut off by a sudden moan as Gojo palms your tits, rubbing a thumb over a nipple visible through your shirt. The added friction only makes the feeling more intense, and you bite down on his shoulder to muffle your sounds.

“Talking about another man while I’m here?” The circles on your clit get faster, and your grip on Gojo’s shirt gets tighter as you try to keep quiet. Gojo’s hand leaves your chest to grab your face, cheeks squished between his fingers, as he forces you to look at him. “Eyes on me, honey. I’m all you should be focused on right now.”

You nod reflexively as Gojo’s hand sneaks to the back of your head and yanks your hair, forcing your back to arch while you maintain eye contact. “That’s a good girl. There we go. Listen to you—I bet you love that everyone outside can hear you—can hear the pretty noises you make for me.”

You whimper in response to his words, too focused on the feeling building between your legs to process what your husband’s saying. “You gonna come for me? Don’t forget Nanami gave us two minutes—I tried bartering for five, but my cute lil wife has so much faith in me that she only wanted two.” Gojo moves to suck on your neck, scratching with his teeth and soothing it over with his tongue when you let out a particularly high-pitched whine.

“Fuck, Satoru, don’t—oh—don’t stop, please, I’m so close baby, socloseI’m—” A loud and obscene moan follows your words as the feeling crashes over you painfully, spurred on by Gojo increasing the speed of his fingers to quickly push you into a quick and filthy orgasm bordering on overstimulation.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let it out—I want everything, so don’t you dare hold back.” Gojo keeps up the pace, even as your hips try to buck away from his fingers. His hand quickly moves from your hair to your ass, holding you in place as you try to squirm away.

“No, ‘Toru, ‘s too much,” you slur out, tears littering your lash line as you force yourself to continue watching your husband, no matter how much you want to close your eyes. “No more, please—”

“GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE, YOU TWO!” Yaga’s voice booms through the room, banging fists joining his yells. You and Gojo stop, wide-eyed at the interruption.

“Holy shit, Nanami brought Yaga. Fuck, what do we do?” Gojo whispers, fingers slipping out and wiping on your skirt. Your nose crinkles watching him.

“What do you mean, ‘what do we do’? This is your fault, idiot. You fix this!” You whisper angrily (and hoarsely) back, removing yourself from his lap and stretching to work out the soreness of your muscles.

Gojo scoops you bridal-style, barely giving you time to adjust your skirt before hurrying to the window. “Quick, this way—they’ll never catch us—”

The doors open with a crash, Yaga and Nanami on the other side. Shoko’s got her phone out, recording the scene as it plays out. (Probably for blackmail material, you mentally note.)

Your darling husband shoves you out the open window.

a/n: Sorry guys idk what part of my ass I pulled this out of bc this definitely wasn't on my wip list...

© 2025 saturntosatoru on Tumblr, all rights reserved

[yuujisdeadlovedones]

hear me out... megumi letting reader get off by grinding on his abs.

ෆ It started at breakfast.

You’d worn those stupid soft shorts—the ones that barely counted as fabric—and Megumi had already looked pissed about it before you even spoke.

You leaned against the counter, chewing on toast. "You know," you said casually, glancing at his shirtless torso as he poured cereal, "you should let me ride your abs sometime."

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t look up.

You grinned anyway. “Like… properly. Just grind on them ‘til I cum. I bet they’re perfect for it.”

Now that got a reaction. A tight jaw. A sharp exhale through his nose. But he still didn’t give you the satisfaction of a reply. So you kept pushing.

By lunch, you’d asked twice more. At one point, laying across the couch in your tiny tank top, you groaned into your arm with a dramatic sigh:

“I just know I’d cum so fast if you let me… you’re so mean for keeping them to yourself.”

Megumi scoffed under his breath but never answered.

You tried one more time—while he was reading in bed, his long fingers turning pages like he hadn’t been fighting a hard-on all afternoon from all your whining.

“Please?” you whispered, climbing beside him. “You won’t even have to do anything. Just lay back and let me use you.”

He didn’t look at you.

But he did close the book.

With an audible snap.

Then came the sharp exhale through his teeth.

“…You’re so fucking annoying.”

You smiled innocently, knowing you’d won.

Megumi tossed the book on the nightstand, leaned back against the headboard, and reached behind his neck to peel off his black t-shirt in one slow, controlled motion.

And then he said it.

“Get on.”

Your grin was unbearable. You straddled his hips eagerly, already dragging your soaked panties across the warm skin of his abdomen.

Megumi didn’t move.

Didn’t touch you.

Didn’t help.

He just lay there—muscles tense, jaw clenched, like this was some horrible punishment he was enduring for your sake.

"Fuck, you're even better up close," you whispered, breath catching as you rocked your hips once, twice, dragging your aching clit along the ridges of his abs.

“Shut up,” he muttered.

You giggled, grinding a little harder. “You don’t even know what you’re doing to me—‘Gumi, it’s so good—”

His hands shot up to grip your thighs, squeezing just hard enough to make you still.

“You’re disgusting,” he muttered again. “Completely fucking deranged.”

But he still guided your hips.

And you still whimpered when the slick fabric of your panties caught on the groove between his abs and slid right over your swollen clit.

“Oh my God,” you moaned, collapsing forward onto your hands. “Just like that—don’t stop—”

“Wasn’t planning to move,” he muttered. “You said you’d do the work. Remember?”

You could barely answer. You were too busy grinding down on his bare torso, soaking him, making a mess with every roll of your hips. You were panting, wild-eyed, rocking back and forth like he was your own personal sex toy.

And he just laid there and took it.

Arms folded behind his head. Lips parted slightly. Brow furrowed, trying not to show how hard he was getting from not even being inside you.

“You’re fucking soaked,” he growled after a minute, his abs twitching under the friction. “You like this that much?”

You nodded desperately, crying out each time you passed over a ridge that pressed just right.

“Say it,” he demanded, voice rougher now. “Tell me you like using me like this.”

“F-Fuck—‘Gumi—feels so good, I can’t—I’m gonna cum—!”

He growled and gripped your hips tighter, dragging you hard across his stomach. “Say it, or I’ll stop.”

You sobbed, eyes rolling. “I love it—I love using you—your abs feel s-so good, please—please let me cum, ‘Gumi—”

He let out a sharp breath, voice cracking, “Cum, then. Be as fucking messy as you want.”

And you did.

You broke apart—hips jerking forward, clit throbbing, body convulsing as you soaked your panties and his abs beneath them. You collapsed against his chest, twitching, dizzy from how hard you came.

You stayed there for a second. Breathing heavy. Eyes fluttering.

Then…

“…Megumi?”

“What.” His voice was flat, but his hand was stroking slow up and down your spine.

You lifted your head, lips flushed and glossy. “Can I go again?”

His head dropped back to the pillows, mouth open in disbelief.

“You’re unbelievable.”

But he didn’t say no.

[yuujisdeadlovedones]

୨୧﹕fem!reader, grinding megumi's abs...

megumi lay flat on his back, shirt off, arms folded lazily behind his head like this wasn’t the filthiest thing you’d ever begged him for.

like he hadn’t watched you for ten minutes already, perched on top of him, naked and flushed, hips rolling slow and desperate across the ridged muscle of his abdomen—those carved abs slick with your arousal. like he wasn’t rock hard beneath his sweats, jaw tight, pupils blown wide as he stared up at you and pretended he wasn’t losing his fucking mind.

you whimpered when the line of his obliques flexed.

god, he was solid. smooth and firm, every shift of his stomach rubbing perfectly against your clit. his skin was warm, slightly damp from the way you’d already smeared yourself across him, gliding over every groove like you were meant to be there.

your hands pressed to his chest for balance, hips rocking in tight little circles. you could hear it now—wet and filthy, your pussy dragging back and forth across him, leaking down onto the crease between his abs as your thighs shook.

“fuck,” you breathed. “you’re so hard—‘gumi, i can feel everything—”

he exhaled sharply, still staring at you.

“i know,” he muttered, voice rough. “i can see it.”

you whined. your slick was coating him now, dripping, stringing in strands from your cunt to the dips in his stomach. his abs clenched every time you shifted. and that hurt you—how good it felt. how deliberate his control was. he didn’t move. not even to help.

because this was for you.

“you’re really gonna make me cum just like this?” you asked, voice breaking around a moan as you ground your swollen clit over the sharpest part of his core. “just by grinding on your abs?”

“you wanted this, didn’t you?” megumi said, mouth twitching like he was barely keeping from smirking. “you said they were pretty.”

you let out a whimper that was part laughter, part shame, part pure fucking arousal.

“they are,” you gasped, dragging your pussy lower and back up again, cunt catching against the ridge of his muscle, your body jerking. “they’re perfect—”

his eyes were glued to your core. your slick cunt leaving wet trails across his stomach, lips swollen and glistening. your clit so puffy and needy, brushing right over the spot where two muscle lines met.

he flexed. just once.

and you screamed.

your hips jerked and your knees buckled, clit spasming from the sudden pressure, the extra friction sending a violent shudder through your whole body.

“do it again,” you gasped.

he flexed.

you cried.

rocking faster now, sweat starting to bead at your hairline, your entire body drawn tight with desperate need. he was letting you do it—letting you fuck yourself stupid on his abs, getting off like some shameless little pillow princess while he lay there, arms still folded, cock hard and untouched beneath the waistband of his pants.

“you’re making a fucking mess,” he muttered, voice rougher now, cracked around the edges.

“i don’t c-care,” you moaned, hips moving faster. “i’m gonna cum, i can’t—i can’t stop—”

“don’t,” he said. “don’t stop. get off on it. i wanna see it.”

your pussy spasmed. your clit caught right on that perfect edge one more time—one, perfect grind—and then you were cumming, loud and hard and wet, collapsing forward with a moan that sounded like his name and sin in the same breath.

you trembled all over, hips jerking through the aftershocks, cunt pulsing and slick and spread across the rock-hard expanse of his stomach.

megumi finally moved. just a little.

one hand slid up your back. the other slid down his abs, gathering your slick with lazy fingers.

he lifted them to his mouth. licked them clean.

“…you’re crazy,” he muttered.

then he looked down at his soaked abs. his still-rock-hard cock.

and said, flatly:

“you're doing it again.”

[yuujisdeadlovedones]

them texting you after you die

ʚ incl: gojo, geto, nanami, toji, choso, sukuna, higuruma, shiu, ino, shoko, uraume, ijichi

ʚ cont: heart crushing angst

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ ࿔

[yuujisdeadlovedones]

Masterlist:

JJK links:

Gojo Satoru:

the-catalyst-for-anguish and Geto and Shoko's arrival for the wedding. and After

Take me back, to the night we met: part 1 and part 2

Can't remember how to say your name.

Sorcerer's Wandering Castle: Act 1, Act 2, Act 3, Act 4

Ceo!Gojo headcanons

Dilf!Gojo headcanons

Nanami Kento:

unwritten-terms-and-conditions

Law of Attraction: part-1 ; part-2 ; part 3 ; part 4; Part 5; End.

My home is with you.

Uh... Boss?

Not you

In sickness and in health

You mean my wife?!

Strictly professional (smut) Part two: Strictly Unprofessional (smut)

Trainwreck

Unattainable ; Obtainable; Mine (smut)

Forget me not

Overworked (smut)

Misery

Dangerous Chase

Perfect Patients (smut)

Sincere Apology

Andromeda

PostWar! Headcanon and What's Left, after Fire

Writer's cock- I MEAN BLOCK

Salaryman!Nanami who...

Teaching the ways of the heart

Artist!Nanami who....

The Great Cock Revelation. AKA: The Divine Dicking.

Sukuna Ryomen:

Crimson Throne: Act I; Act II; Act III; Act IV, Act V

Ma'am? (smut)

Devotion

Geto Suguru:

Can't remember how to say your name.

Dilf!Geto who...

Toji Fushiguro:

Bodyguard headcanon

Too pretty to die- unfortunatly

Old dog, spoiled bitch

All of them:

How they'd react seeing you without your wedding ring. (Choso + Hiromi)

They find an old love letter adressed to them. and Sad version

How would they react if you jumped out of the car during an argument.

You surprise them with a kiss.

You were a bet.

You match their freak

They're better than your bf

Their families don't approve of you.

You're cheating

You hate? Each other

Hate me 'til it's too late

Headcanon for eating the kitty

Waking up next to them softly

Giving them a survey to fill in after sex.

Ao3 Exclusive:

Velvet Swan

Thats it for now (updated: 13/06/2025)

Navigation/Rules

:)

[yuujisdeadlovedones]

-> To have found you was the world's regret, not mine

trueform!ryomen sukuna x reader

summary: born with two too many limbs and faces, he was abandoned, left for the nature to bury him in a grave at the mere age of six. apparently, there was one enemy to the nature of the world, who seemed to go against every rule of survival; you.

warning/s: heian era, smut at the end (skipable), sukuna has two dicks, use of sukuna's stomach mouth, p in v, creampies, slight breeding kink, praise and degrading kink, overstimulation, aphrodisiacs, angst, mentions of blood, nearing death (no actual death though), sukuna's villain arc, he was a monster you'd never despise, growing up together, they were both doomed from the start, fluff so i don't end it all, sukuna using you as a weight for training

a/n: i have no words. this man awakens something inside of me.

The rumors had spread like wildfire.

The child born with too many eyes, too many limbs, had devoured his twin in the womb. A demon cloaked in human skin, they whispered. He was evil incarnate, an abomination that would only grow stronger if left unchecked. But killing him outright would be a sin too great for their souls to bear. So they left him to rot. On the desolate side of the country, where even the air could be considered poison, they abandoned him.

They thought they'd washed their hands clean.

They thought starvation would take care of what they couldn't.

But death didn't come as quickly as they had hoped.

Sukuna was nothing more than a husk of a boy now, his four arms limp at his sides, his ribs threatening to pierce through his skin with each shallow breath.

Nature, just as cruel as mankind, had left him no mercy.

And then you appeared.

"Hi,"

The sound was soft, almost too soft for his dulled senses to catch. He barely mustered the strength to crack open one eye, a faint glint of crimson meeting yours.

"What?" he rasped.

You didn't answer right away, instead stepping closer to the monster that the land itself seemed to despise. There was no hesitation in your movements, no fear, no disgust.

"You.. you're just like me," you murmured.

Sukuna's lower right eye twitched, barely enough to take you in. You were as battered as he was—maybe worse. Wounds marred your body, some barely crusting over due to the lack of vitamins, others oozing sluggishly with infection. Your skin looked like it could rip at any given moment, stretched too thin over bones that jutted out in sharp angles.

You looked truly pitiable.

But Sukuna didn't care. Or at least, that's what he thought.

He was going to die anyway. Forming a bond would be useless.

He scoffed, his head lolling back against the harsh, cracked tree he was leaning on, waiting for death to take him away at the mere age of six.

"We're both dying,"

You said what he couldn't, spoke his mind instead of plastering him with questions.

You were younger than him, yet knew such harsh reality to come.

Your lips quirked in something resembling a smile, though it faltered under the weight of your exhaustion.

The boy hummed in return.

With that, Sukuna let his eyes fall shut, deciding to fade out the world— and you— with it.

Hours later, a sharp scent cut through his haze.

Sweet.

Fruit.

His eyes snapped open. He turned his head and found you kneeling beside him, holding a piece of overripe fruit out to him.

"Eat," you simply said.

He snarled— or at least tried to— but his voice came out weak and hoarse, "Don't… pity me."

Your brows furrowed, frustration taking over you. Without a word, you leaned closer, your small hand pressing against his chest. His eyes widened, alarm breaking through his mind.

"What are you—"

Before he could stop you, you raised the fruit to his stomach mouth. Its sharp teeth parted instinctively, and before Sukuna could refuse again, you fed him.

Your fingers brushed against his canines, but you didn't flinch. You didn't so much as blink as the beastly maw devoured the offering, juice dribbling from its corners.

His lower eyes narrowed, glaring at you even as the sweet taste spread across his tongue.

"Stupid brat," he muttered, but his voice lacked any true hatred. Towards you, that is.

You didn't respond, only settling back into your spot beside him, already reaching into a cloth bag for more.

"Wh-what's your.. ah- your name?" you mused as you revealed another fruit to him, guiding it to his stomach.

Unlike him, the maw ate gratefully.

He seemed to think, his body relaxing at the feeling of it getting taken care of.

Truthfully, the boy didn't have a proper name. He was named Ryomen due to his two faces— that was all to it.

He grunted, "Sukuna."

You smiled, repeating the name. With a grin, you revealed your name to him.

And surprisingly, he did the same thing.

He repeated it.

This became your routine.

You, a ghost of a child, scavenged for what little life had to offer. Sukuna, the boy they had condemned as a monster, became your charge.

Each day, you'd sneak into villages, weaving through the shadows like smoke. You stole food, medicine, anything you could carry with your frail form, and brought it all to him.

You hardly ate yourself.

No one knew who you were, only that you'd often show up and steal relentlessly.

"That stupid brat! Don't let her get away next time; she needs to be punished properly!"

"Sinning at such a young age is so unfortunate. May she find the right path."

"—there's no right path for her! The devil's captured her soul— we should finally burn this brat for good!"

Sukuna could say the same about them.

Those 'saints' who left you with infection-littered wounds.

Those 'saints' who chased after you for simple fruit.

A little girl, with more bones than meat.

Was Sukuna really the disgrace of the world when this was the way other people thought of innocent life trying to survive?

Whatever. He didn't have the time to think about it.

Not when he'd hold you with his lower arms to stop your squirming.

He discovered reverse cursed technique at a very young age, which became good use. He'd heal you, acting as if he couldn't hear your sobs.

Sukuna's touch wasn't gentle, nor was it kind, but it was efficient. His hands, rough and calloused despite his young age, pressed against your frail frame, glowing faintly with cursed energy as it stitched together your wounds. He worked silently, his expression unreadable, but his lower eyes betrayed the tiniest flicker of something foreign. Something he wouldn't dare acknowledge.

"You cry too much," he muttered, his voice gruff as if to mask the faint twinge of unease your sobs caused him.

—that, unfortunately wasn't a lie. You'd cry a lot. So much, the beast wondered when you'd ever run out of tears.

But in no sense were you a dramatic little crybaby. You'd cry a lot, but not often. When you did, you usually couldn't stop it anymore, and it would go on for hours— the monster had no idea what to do in that case. He figured he wouldn't kill you for the simple act, since you were so useful.

But that weeping would go on his nerves. It replaced the warm feeling in his organs— the one sitting slightly beneath the sternum— with a cold one. It'd feel like it was clutching, singing a melody of helplessness.

That must've been his nerves, he figured.

You were annoying him, he figured.

You sniffled, your thin fingers clutching at his wrist. "hurts," you whimpered, your face streaked with dirt and tears.

And there it was again— that feeling. Something in his chest was crinkling together.

"Then stop getting caught, idiot," he replied, his tone harsher than he intended. He focused on his work, forcing himself to ignore the wetness in your eyes. "Be faster. Smarter."

"I am fast," you argued weakly, your lips trembling, "they're just... mean."

The feeling in his chest was getting worse. Sukuna frowned, it almost resembled to actual pain.

A rare snort escaped him, bitter and sharp. "The world's mean. Get used to it."

You didn't respond right away, your small body trembling under his hands as he finished patching you up. Finally, you spoke, your voice quiet, almost inaudible. "Why do you help me then? If the world's so mean?"

Sukuna froze for a moment, his hands hovering just above your skin. His crimson eyes narrowed as he stared at you, his jaw tightening.

"Because I don't like broken things," he said simply, his tone cold and dismissive. "they're useless."

You blinked up at him, your expression unreadable. "Then why not let me die?"

He didn't answer, couldn't answer. His lips pressed into a thin line as he pulled his hands back, the glow of cursed energy fading.

"You didn't let me die either. Now shut up and eat," he snapped, shoving a stolen piece of bread into your hands.

You obeyed, gnawing at the stale crust despite how it scratched at your throat. You were used to it by now.

Sukuna leaned back against his usual tree— the one he almost died on— his multiple arms folding across his chest. He stared at you as you ate, his gaze deciphering, as if trying to solve a puzzle he didn't even want to admit existed.

"You're too small," he muttered after a while, breaking the silence.

You looked up, crumbs clinging to your lips. "Huh?"

"You're weak," he clarified, his tone blunt, "pathetic, even."

"Gee, thanks," you muttered, rolling your eyes.

"But," he continued, ignoring your sarcasm, "you're still alive. That means you're stubborn. Maybe too stubborn for your own good."

You tilted your head, watching him curiously. "And what about you? You're alive too."

He smirked faintly, a sharp, cruel thing that didn't quite reach his eyes. "That's because I'm stronger than them. Stronger than everyone. I just haven't gotten the chance to prove it yet."

"Then why didn't you leave?" you asked, your voice soft, "If you're so strong, why didn't you leave this place? Why are you still here? Feeding off fruit instead of hunting the animals to the north."

His smirk faltered, his expression hardening. "Because I have something to prove," he grunted, "to them. To the people who left me here to rot. To everyone who thinks they can decide what I am."

He was going to prove that the place they abandoned him to was the reason he was going to turn into a real monster. His career shall start from the place his realization begun. He would tear them apart, and only after this, shall he enjoy his own brought food; his victims.

You didn't respond right away, your gaze dropping to the bread in your hands. When you spoke again, your voice was quiet, almost hesitant. "I think you're just lonely."

His head snapped toward you, his red eyes narrowing dangerously. "What did you say?"

You met his glare head-on, your expression tired, and yet still stubborn, "I said you're lonely. That's why you don't want me to die. You don't want to be alone again."

For a moment, the air between you grew tense. Sukuna's hands twitched, his fingers curling into fists as if he were contemplating smashing your fragile frame into the dirt.

But he didn't.

Instead, he leaned back, closing his eyes with a huff. "You talk too much," he muttered, his tone laced with irritation.

You smiled faintly, the corners of your lips tugging upward despite the exhaustion etched into your face. "And you don't talk enough."

Another silence fell between you, this one less heavy, less suffocating. The two of you sat there, side by side, two broken children in a world that had already decided you didn't belong.

But for now, you weren't alone.

Then days started to turn into weeks, and the weeks blurred into months.

Sukuna grew stronger, his body filling out with lean, wiry muscle as his cursed energy became sharper, more controlled. You were still frail, still weak, but you had learned to move like a shadow, to steal like a raven amongst the humans.

Sukuna didn't understand it. Didn't care to, at first. You were wasting your energy on a lost cause. You should've run far away from him, left him to rot like everyone else had.

But you hadn't. Didn't.

And that caused him to grow over the years.

He grew rapidly, mainly because of his genes— but his muscles weren't something he simply got. He earned them by training.

What to understand under training? Well— he used you as weight, most of the time. You sat on his back when he did pushups or his arm when he trained his biceps. You were useful to Sukuna; that's why he kept you around.

Definitely for no other reason, though.

Nope.

Not because your voice relaxed him, lulled him to sleep.

Not because you smiled at him the day both of you were supposed to be left as nothing more than rotten bodies in this cruel world.

Not because you were so fearless of his anatomy— of him.

Not because you cared for him, so unnaturally much.

Not because you were a complete idiot for doing so.

And to keep things around meant taking care of them, unfortunately. He couldn't risk you dying on him. Not that he'd feel guilty.. sad or anything, but you were useful, could steal. And besides, he had spend a lot of years together with you. You'd grown into young adults together. He got used to your company.

So he never wasted any time when he healed your wounds. You usually had a lot of them, considering villages were basically hunting for you by now.

You even found a little shelter, good enough to hold the two of you. It was an abandoned temple, plants overgrowing the place— but it was enough.

The villagers were growing restless, their whispers turning to shouts, their torches raised.

"The girl's still out there!"

"She steals more than she can eat— she's bringing offerings to the devil himself!"

"We have to end this before they destroy us all!"

Sukuna listened to their cries from the shadows.

"Let them come," he muttered, his voice a low growl.

You glanced at him, worried, "Sukuna…"

He turned to you, his smirk sharp and merciless. "They wanted a monster," he grinned, "I'll show them one."

And for the first time, you weren't sure if you could stop him.

From the day Sukuna decided to show himself to the villages, things changed.

You didn't know what he was doing there. He wouldn't tell you, and you didn't ask. But every evening, without fail, he'd return to the little temple the two of you had claimed. Bloodied.

Always bloodied.

It was never his blood.

His steps would echo against the cracked stones, his frame filling the entrance. He wouldn't say a word, just slump down into his usual spot, waiting for you to do what you always did.

You'd kneel beside him, a bucket of water already at the ready, and begin cleaning him. Your hands worked methodically, scrubbing away the blood that painted his arms, his chest, his face. It didn't matter how much there was or how long it took— you cleaned it all, sitting in silence as the water turned red.

He never flinched. Never winced.

You didn't ask what had happened, and he didn't offer an explanation.

This was your routine now.

You decided you didn't like it.

You were getting left out. He was going cold— you couldn't care less if it were towards the village and the world only— but what about you? You wanted to hear his voice, to talk to him, to be with him.

It was only weeks later that you began to notice them. The marks.

The first time you saw one, it was faint, almost invisible against his skin. A single black line curling along the biceps that met the shoulder. You didn't say anything, even as more began to appear, making their way up his limbs, across his chest, spreading like a dark disease.

You knew what they were.

You didn't need to ask.

Each mark was a crime— a sin carved into his flesh, branding him for the world to see. Murder. Destruction. Chaos.

You knew that.

He knew you knew.

At first, he acted like it didn't matter. Sukuna was stubborn like that, always pretending nothing could touch him. But you saw it, the way his gaze would flicker to you when he thought you weren't looking. The way his hands sometimes twitched when you got too close, as if he expected you to pull away.

He was scared.

Scared that you, out of all people, would abandon him.

But you didn't.

You didn't say a word when the marks began to spread across his shoulders, his back, his neck. You didn't flinch when the blood he came back with multiplied. You didn't recoil when his smile started to look more like a snarl, his eyes gleaming with something you didn't want to name.

You didn't support what he was doing.

But you would never stop him.

For the world had done the same to him.

Because no one stopped when they left him to rot, when they whispered behind their hands and turned their backs and called him a monster before he even had a chance to be anything else.

Because even though you didn't agree with him, even though you hated the blood and the way he was slipping further and further away from whatever humanity he had left…

You would never abandon him.

So you stayed.

Even as the marks spread like a curse, even as the villagers' cries grew louder, even as Sukuna's laughter began to echo like something bad had won against the world, you stayed.

Because that's what you'd always done.

And maybe that's why, when the marks started creeping toward his face, curling along his jaw and across his lower eyes, Sukuna never stopped coming back.

No matter how bloody he was.

No matter how much darker he seemed.

He always came back.

To you.

After Sukuna had received all possible markings on his body, you found yourselves wandering off the place it all started with.

He'd proven himself.

It was time to take over his own estate now. He shall be the god amongst the mere humans whom despised him, with you by his side.

Sukuna found an estate on a whim.

It was a massive structure, sprawling across the countryside like a symbol of decadence. It belonged to a king, or at least someone who thought themselves important. Sukuna didn't care who— it didn't matter. All he saw was an opportunity.

He stalked through the gates, dragging you behind him by the hand like a silent shadow. You didn't ask questions, didn't protest. You trusted him. Perhaps a bit too much.

He wasn't sure what pissed him off more; the way you clung to his side so willingly or the fact that you made him hesitate.

Sukuna had stormed into that estate ready to kill— prepared to cut through guards, nobles, anyone who dared stand in his way. But the moment he stepped inside, the warmth of your hand in his made him pause. Just for a second.

He grumbled, the sound low and guttural in his throat.

"Brat," he muttered under his breath.

You blinked up at him, confused, but before you could ask, three of his arms moved. Two hands covered your ears, and the third wrapped protectively around your head, shielding and blinding you from what he was about to do.

The remaining arm was the one he used to guide his slashes, cutting through flesh and bone as if it were paper.

Guards rushed at him, swords raised, and fell just as quickly. Blood splattered the polished floors, the walls, the pristine decor meant to show off the king's wealth. Sukuna moved like a storm, calculated and ruthless, cutting down anyone who dared oppose him.

But there were some who didn't fight.

Some dropped to their knees without question, trembling as they bowed their heads.

Sukuna's grin widened, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light.

"Swear your lives to me," he commanded, his voice a deep, menacing growl that echoed through the halls, "pledge your loyalty, or join the rest of them."

And they did.

One after another, they vowed their lives to him, fear etched into every syllable. Those were the ones he let live.

By the time he finished, the estate was his.

Blood soaked the floors, the stench of death heavy in the air, but it was done. Sukuna had claimed his place.

Servants began arriving the next day, desperate for shelter. They came from villages he'd decimated, from towns that whispered his name with equal parts fear and reverence. They gave their lives to him willingly, swearing fealty in exchange for protection.

Because that's what you had always done.

There was one habit Sukuna had carried with him since childhood— a strange, unspoken thing neither of you dared to label or even fully acknowledge. Whatever it was between you two, it wasn't something the world could define.

Certainly not a couple. That wasn't the right word. No.

But also… not not that.

It didn't matter. No one dared lay a thought on it.

The habit in question? Sukuna couldn't sleep unless you were right there. Not just near him, but with him. On him, preferably.

From the time you were small, he'd insist you lay against his chest, your frail frame curled up against him like you were the only shield he needed. As you grew, it became more than that— skin to skin contact. He craved it, though he'd rather rot in hell than admit it.

When you'd press your cheek against him, limbs tangled together as if the world wasn't constantly trying to tear you apart, Sukuna could actually relax. When your warmth pressed into his, he could let his many eyes close, feel his breathing even out. He swore he didn't care about the way your fingers would clutch at him in your sleep, or how you'd bury your face in the crook of his neck.

Didn't care that you drooled on him, for God's sake.

He definitely didn't admire that.

But there were nights when you'd wake up to find him staring at you, his eyes soft in a way you rarely saw. And he'd smirk, teasingly so, just enough to throw you off.

"You drooled all over me again," he'd mutter, pretending to be annoyed as he wiped at his skin, though the smug tilt of his mouth betrayed him.

You'd groan, shoving at his chest, "Then stop using me as a pillow."

"Who's using who?" he'd reply, wrapping his arms tighter around you so you couldn't escape.

It was stupid. Pointless. But also… it wasn't.

Because in those moments, when it was just the two of you and the rest of the world could burn for all you cared, Sukuna wasn't the bloodied monster that came home to you. And you weren't the ghost of a child stealing scraps to survive. (Which, frankly, you didn't need to anymore, since Sukuna took charge of that. However, the villages contained a.. feeling.. you liked to experience. The bits of humanity. Sukuna didn't stop you, for he didn't understand, but he trusted you.)

There was once, when Sukuna had never experienced you like this. Not once in all the years he'd known you.

You came back from the village as usual, empty-handed this time, but without so much as a scratch on you. At first, he thought nothing of it— maybe you'd been lucky, maybe the villagers were slacking, maybe...

But then, you didn't say a word. Not one.

You were always the one to start conversations. Always the one filling the empty silence between the two of you with your endless chatter, your stubborn questions, your little quips that only made him smirk. So why the hell were you quiet now?

It irritated him.

"Oi," Sukuna barked, his sharp tone bouncing off the temple walls, "say something."

You didn't respond.

He narrowed his eyes, his arms crossing over his broad chest. This was weird. Really weird. Then he got a good look at your face, and something about it made his stomach twist, and the feeling in his chest cold.

You looked sad.

Why did you look sad? You weren't supposed to look like that. That wasn't you.

"Stop making that face," he snapped, scowling to cover the strange unease rising in his chest.

You still didn't respond, huffing and walking away to another room— that definitely was not the one you'd share with Sukuna. For mere sleeping habits, obviously.

Then he noticed you weren't eating either. That was the final straw. Sukuna was no saint— far from it— but when he was half-dead, starving, and barely able to move, you'd shoved food down his throat whether he wanted it or not. You fed him, cared for him, even when he didn't deserve it.

So maybe, he thought, he should do the same for you.

Yes. Yes, that was the answer.

Of course, Sukuna had never been great with the whole 'gentle' thing. Or 'patient.' Or 'subtle.'

So when you didn't eat the dried meat he shoved into your hands, he huffed and decided to take matters into his own hands.

Literally.

"Open your damn mouth," he growled, his lower arms grabbing your face with surprising force. Servants around the room stilled, their eyes widening. They knew you as the King's treasure— they never expected him to care, whatsoever.

You blinked up at him, startled, but still didn't say a word.

"Don't just stare at me— eat!" he barked, attempting to shove the food toward your mouth. When your lips remained stubbornly closed, his frustration boiled over, "Fine, you wanna be a brat? Then I shall make you—"

Without thinking, Sukuna grabbed your jaw, prying your mouth open with way too much force. His grip was rough, his fingers digging into your cheeks as he tried to shove the food in.

"Stop being so damn stupid—!"

Before any of the shocked servants could even dare to say anything, your muffled protest and wide eyes finally registered in his brain. He froze mid-action, realizing he was practically choking you.

"..Oh."

He pulled his hands back abruptly, the dried meat dropping to the ground between you. You coughed a little, your eyes watering, and for a brief moment, Sukuna actually felt awkward.

Which pissed him off even more.

"Whatever," he grumbled, crossing his arms again and glaring at the wall, "you're lucky I even bothered, fool."

You finally spoke then, your voice soft and hoarse from disuse. "…Sukuna?"

"What?"

Your lips trembled, and you looked up at him with that same sad expression that made his chest ache. "Thank you."

He scoffed, turning his head away so you couldn't see the faint pink tinge creeping up his neck. "Don't thank me. Just eat next time."

But you didn't.

And Sukuna, for all his glory, didn't know how to fix you.

And that terrified him.

He didn't know what was wrong, didn't know how to make you better, and the longer you stayed like this— silent, withdrawn, not you— the more it ate away at him. He wasn't used to fear, not like this, and it pissed him off.

So the next time you went into the village, he came with you.

It was a rational decision, he told himself. If he could just see what was going on, maybe he could figure out how to fix it. Plus, he'd make sure nothing happened to you while you were out.

The villagers, of course, noticed immediately. Sukuna wasn't exactly subtle. A hulking figure with four arms and marks that practically screamed danger didn't exactly blend into the background.

This was no longer just you, the lone thief darting through shadows.

No.

This was you and Sukuna, the two of you together.

A pair.

You were the reason Sukuna had survived this long. He knew that. Knew that now the villagers would too. They'd hunt you harder, piece together the truth of how you'd kept him alive, how you'd made him the monster they feared.

He didn't care.

He wasn't going to leave your side anyway.

You were safest with him. No one would dare lay a finger on you while he was there. That was the message he sent, loud and clear, as he walked beside you through the village, your hand clasped firmly in his.

But then he saw it.

The way your expression shifted.

You stopped, your gaze snagged on a group of children sitting in the dirt, their little hands busy smearing bright colors inside simple lines drawn on scraps of parchment. They were laughing, giggling, so blissfully unaware of the two of you.

Your frown deepened.

And that's when Sukuna realized.

This— this— was the reason for your depressive episode.

He froze, staring at you for a moment before he let out a loud, echoing cackle. He laughed so hard his sides ached, his upper hands clutching his stomach while his lower ones rested on his hips.

"That's what's got you sulking?" he sneered, "This? A bunch of brats smearing colors like idiots?"

You turned to him, cheeks hot with embarrassment, lips tugged into a pout. "Shut up."

He barked out a low, mocking laugh, leaning closer as his sharp teeth glinted. "Oh, don't tell me you're jealous of that? You wanna crawl around in the dirt and finger-paint too? What's next, you gonna cry about it? Pathetic."

You huffed, crossing your arms with a glare. "Hey! I haven't cried about such things since.. forever now— you can't bring that up!"

But you weren't mad.

Just pouty.

And he found that absolutely hilarious.

Back at the estate, though, Sukuna couldn't shake the image of your face in the village. That look of quiet longing, of sadness. It stuck with him, crawling under his skin until he couldn't ignore it anymore.

So, begrudgingly, he thought about it. Really thought about it.

And then, with a dramatic sigh, he sat down beside you, crossing his lower arms over his lap while the upper ones gestured at his body.

"Here," he said gruffly, as if this were a full sentence made to understand immediately.

You blinked at him, confused. "What?"

"My marks," he muttered, already annoyed at how awkward he felt, "use them. Color inside the lines or whatever. Just— stop looking like that. It's annoying."

Your mouth fell open in surprise, and he immediately regretted it. "Don't make a big deal out of it," he snapped, scowling, "if it'll stop you from sulking, then fine. Go ahead. You can even add new ones if you want."

Your face lit up, a spark of your usual self finally flickering back to life. "Really?"

"Have I ever said something I didn't mean?" Sukuna grumbled, pretending to be annoyed even as relief washed over him, "Just don't mess it up."

You grabbed a piece of charcoal from your stash with a grin, leaning closer to him. "Don't worry, S'kuna. I'll make you beautiful."

He rolled his eyes.

"To think of it, you're already really beautiful.."

He scoffed, his lips curling up, "I am no such thing."

"To me, you are."

"..."

Your relationship was fine. There wasn't much else you could say about it. You weren't ready to ruin anything, and being in his arms made you content enough.

But there was this constant urge to have more.

You didn't understand these feelings fully, but you did know there were times when you wanted to please him desperately.

That's why you started training. A lot.

Obviously, you'd never live up to the King himself, but there was no denying the fact that you did… bloom. You didn't run anymore— not when you were able to take out people on your own.

And while you did all of this with the intention of keeping yourself safe, you somehow got another reward out of it.

His praise.

Your guilty pleasure.

You tried not to let it show, but you were desperate for it. Almost like a dog wagging its tail, ready for a reward after performing a trick.

And while Sukuna hadn't noticed that you specifically craved his praise, he had noticed that you'd grown a lot more obedient. You'd follow his orders without snarky remarks, without hesitation.

Take eating, for example.

Back then, Sukuna would've been fuming because, despite your circumstances and how you grew up, you were a picky eater. And Sukuna had actually been trying his best to break that habit.

Now? Now you ate without another word. No sarcastic quips. No fights. No using the King of Curses as your personal climbing material to escape his four arms.

Nope.

Just you, grimacing after each bite of whatever questionable food you'd been handed.

Sukuna was confused.

Hence why you didn't get the praise you'd been so desperately hoping for.

Well, fuck you, you cunt. What did I eat this fucking piece of shit for?

As you sat picking at a particularly unappealing piece of food, Sukuna finally snapped.

"Alright," he growled, crossing his arms over his chest, all four of them. "What's your deal?"

You blinked up at him, feigning innocence. "What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb with me." His eyes narrowed, glowing faintly in the dim light. "You've been acting weird. Eating whatever garbage you're given, training like a lunatic, not mouthing off— what's going on with you?"

Your cheeks flushed, and you quickly looked away, pretending to focus on your food. "I'm just… trying to pull my weight, that's all."

"Bullshit," he said flatly.

You flinched, your grip tightening on your fork.

Sukuna leaned forward, "Out with it," he demanded. "what are you trying to prove?"

"I'm not—"

"Yes, you are."

You hesitated, biting your lip, and Sukuna's frustration grew. He hated when you shut him out.

"I just…" You took a deep breath, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just want to make you proud, is all."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Sukuna stared at you, his expression unreadable.

And then, to your utter shock, he let out a low, rumbling laugh.

"That's it?" he said, his tone mocking but not mean, "You want to make me proud? You're such an idiot."

Your face burned with embarrassment, and you opened your mouth to retort, but Sukuna cut you off.

"Listen," he begun, "You don't need to break yourself to impress me. You're already here, are you not? That's enough."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you looked up at him, your eyes wide.

"Now eat," he barked, his tone snapping back to its usual gruffness. "And stop making that stupid face. It's annoying."

A small grin tugged at your lips.

"Yes, your Highness," you said, mockingly formal as you took a big, dramatic bite of your food.

Sukuna rolled his eyes but didn't bother hiding the smirk that spread across his face.

When letters started to come in, no one really knew how to address you.

You weren't his queen. You weren't his wife. You weren't his servant, and you certainly weren't his concubine.

You were you.

A force unlike anything the world had ever seen. The only soul who dared to hold Sukuna's gaze without fear, who could make him snarl one moment and laugh the next.

If there was one thing everyone knew, it was this; Sukuna respected you. A respect so profound that it bordered on reverence— something not even gods themselves could hope to achieve.

One day, another letter arrived.

It was addressed to you, though the sender didn't dare write your name. Instead, it bore a simple title,

The Crow.

The name wasn't unfamiliar. After all, it wasn't far from the truth. You had once been the solitary figure scavenging food for Sukuna, feeding him when the world left him to rot. Always flitting in and out of danger, quick and clever, much like the bird they now associated you with.

Sukuna scoffed at the name when he looked over your shoulder, your legs dangling off of his lap, a sharp smirk tugging at his lips. "The Crow, hm? How poetic."

You rolled your eyes. "What else would they call me? It's better than 'Bearer of Death' or 'The Pest', no?"

He barked out a laugh, leaning back on his throne, "I'd kill them myself if they dared to write something that pathetic."

The letter was an invitation from a village requesting your presence. It was worded carefully, dripping with false flattery and desperate pleas.

"They need you," Sukuna read aloud mockingly. "Right. As if this isn't a trap."

You knew it, and so did he.

But still, you folded the letter neatly and tucked it away.

"I'm going."

Sukuna's expression darkened instantly. His gaze bore into you, sharp and unrelenting. "No, you're not."

You raised a brow, "You're not my keeper."

"Correct. I'm your king," he snapped, hands finding their way to your waist, almost as if silently stopping you from an escape, "and I forbid it."

"Then come with me,"

He stilled, his gaze narrowing as he weighed your words.

"if it's a trap," you continued, "they won't expect you. In that case, we— you don't have to worry about dinner tonight."

Sukuna grunted, a smirk blooming on his face, "You're insufferable."

"So I've heard."

The two of you arrived at the village a few days later, Sukuna at your side.

The air was thick with unease as villagers scattered like mice at the sight of him. His reputation preceded him, the stories of his cruelty and power leaving no room for doubt.

What confused them most was him.

Why was he here? Only you were invited.

The village leader greeted you hesitantly, his voice trembling as he spoke.

"We… we didn't expect both of you to come."

"Clearly," Sukuna drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. His lower arms crossed over his chest while the upper ones rested at his sides, ready to strike if needed. "You thought you'd lure her here and what? Take her from me? Did you think you could threaten me in this way?"

The leader paled, stumbling over his words. "N-no, my Lord, we—"

"Enough." Sukuna's voice silenced the man immediately, "Speak. Why did you call her here?"

The village leader fumbled, his gaze flickering nervously between you and Sukuna. "W-We need her help," he stammered, voice quivering as he addressed the King. "A newborn… was recently b-born here." His words faltered, his fear evident as he glanced up at the King, "He's… different. B-Born with two faces."

The man swallowed hard, his trembling hands clasped together in desperation. "He's sick. None of the doctors outside the village will touch him," he admitted, his voice cracking under the weight of his plea. Then, his eyes turned to you, filled with a desperate kind of hope, "We heard the stories— how she saved you— and we thought…"

"You thought wrong," Sukuna growled.

But before he could end the man's life with a single swipe, you stepped forward, placing a hand on his arm.

"Let me handle this," you said softly.

His gaze flickered to you, his jaw tightening. After a long moment, he relented, stepping back with a low grunt.

You let the villager take you to the hut where the newborn was.

You knelt before the makeshift crib, your hands trembling slightly as you reached out to the newborn. He was tiny, frail— two faced.

One face contained of nothing more than fear, whilst the other cried out in pain. Yet, when your arms wrapped around his fragile body, he quieted, though soft whimpers still escaped his lips.

"Shh, little one," you murmured, your voice as gentle as a breeze. Sukuna watched silently from the corner, his arms crossed.

Carefully, you checked the baby's temperature, your fingers brushing over his small, fevered forehead. You examined his tiny body for signs of illness, taking note of the unnatural features that made the villagers so fearful. His two faces twisted slightly as he squirmed in your arms, but he didn't cry out again.

Turning to the trembling leader and a few others standing nearby, you, usually being considered nice, spoke firmly, "He needs specific care. His fever has to be brought down immediately. You'll need fruits rich in vitamins— papayas, bananas, oranges. Vegetables too. Carrots, spinach. And a steady supply of milk." Your gaze hardened, daring them to question you. "If you fail to provide him with these, he won't survive the month."

The leader nodded rapidly, almost stumbling over his own feet as he rushed to fulfill your demands.

Meanwhile, the baby's tiny hand gripped weakly at the fabric of your sleeve, his innocent gaze drifting up to meet yours. His other face, half-formed but expressive, mirrored the longing in his eyes. He clung to you like you were the only safe haven in his fragile world.

But then his gaze shifted, catching sight of Sukuna looming nearby. The King's lower set of eyes narrowed ever so slightly, his lips twitching into something between a pout and a scowl. The baby's hand hesitated, releasing its hold as if sensing Sukuna's displeasure.

You glanced at Sukuna, raising an eyebrow at his ridiculous expression. What was he? Jealous? Of a baby?

Biting back a laugh, you turned your attention back to the infant, cradling him closer and pressing a kiss to his tiny forehead. "Don't mind him," you whispered, though loud enough for Sukuna to hear, "he's just grumpy because he's not the center of attention for once."

Sukuna scoffed, his arms tightening across his chest. "Tch. Keep your bratty comments to yourself."

You grinned at him, unbothered by his tone. "Aw, is the mighty King pouting? You're really going to compete with a newborn now?"

"I do not pout."

"Oh, you absolutely do," you teased, hugging the baby close for emphasis. The infant snuggled into you, his soft breaths warm against your skin. He reminded you so much of Sukuna, except Sukuna's beginnings had been so much harsher, so much crueler.

Your smile softened as you glanced over at the man, "You were like this once, you know," you said quietly, "but worse off. No one held you like this, did they?"

"That's irrelevant," he muttered.

You turned back to the baby, rocking him gently. "Not to me,"

Sukuna didn't respond, but he didn't look away, either. Even in his silence, you knew he was watching, remembering.

He hated this.

Hated the way they looked at you, as if you were their savior. As if they had any right to ask for your help after the world had abandoned you. For no reason, might he add. You were not the devil's incarnation, you hadn't been a bad child, hell, for all he knew, you could be considered an angel. And yet, you were in the same state as he was the very day you two met. The world treated you so harshly for your mere existence. And Sukuna hadn't forgotten.

He stayed silent, letting you work.

When the day ended, you returned to his side, hands stained with herbs. He said nothing.

And yet, the villagers had the audacity to offer you flowers— an attempt at gratitude.

They were beautiful.

They promised you they smelled even better.

Who were you to decline?

But beauty has a cost.

The flowers— so innocent-looking, so sweet-smelling— were anything but.

The trouble began not long after.

At first, Sukuna noticed how clingy you became, latching onto him even more than usual. You'd run your hands through his hair (despite his scowls and harsh hushes), trace the tattoos along his arms, or rest your head on his chest longer than necessary. He didn't mind— not that he'd admit it— but it was odd. It was unlike you to be so needy.

Then, just as suddenly, you pulled away.

Your skin flushed, your breathing uneven. You seemed distant, yet restless, quirking around like a lost little thing.

And in the blink of an eye, you stormed off to the room you shared with him. No explanations. Just silence. The servants barely had time to question your behavior. You disappeared before they could even open their mouths.

Sukuna pretended not to care. You were probably sulking, he told himself. Maybe something the villagers said had gotten under your skin. But the longer you stayed locked in that room, the more agitated he became.

He wasn't going to check on you— not immediately, anyway. That would mean admitting he cared, and he wasn't about to give anyone that satisfaction.

Instead, he sent servants.

The first returned looking pale, as if they'd just seen a ghost.

"What's wrong with her?" Sukuna growled, standing at an intimidating height.

The servant stammered, failing to form a coherent response.

Useless.

A single strike ended their misery, and Sukuna turned to the next.

One by one, the servants were sent to your room, and one by one, they returned looking worse for wear— shaken, nervous, almost beaten down mentally. None of them gave him a straight answer. And that annoyed him beyond hell and earth.

By the third corpse, he was growing impatient.

Finally, one brave— or perhaps foolish— servant stepped forward, bowing low to avoid her wrath. "My Lord… it's not our place to say. You… you should see for yourself. But she… she needs time. Give her a moment, then go to her."

The King's eyes darkened, his lips curling into a snarl. Time? You needed time? For what?

Still, the servant's trembling voice and the hint of genuine concern in their words stopped him from storming in immediately.

"Fine," he grunted, dismissing the servant with a wave of his hand, "half an hour. If she's not better by then, I’ll deal with it myself."

The servant bowed deeply, sharing a concerned look before retreating as quickly as they could.

And so, Sukuna waited.

What was wrong with you? And why the hell hadn't you told him?

Inside the room, you were fighting for your life. You were left dizzy and overwhelmed. You pressed a hand to your forehead, trying to steady your breathing, but it was no use. The sensation was maddening, your body betraying you in ways you couldn't explain.

Your abdomen burned. It felt too hot for your body, and you were desperate. Desperate to get rid of it, to loosen it, to feel pleasure.

You cursed under your breath, glaring at the damned flowers on the bedside table. They were the culprits. Had to be. Their sweet, heady scent lingered in the air, mocking you.

And then it dawned on you.

They were aphrodisiacs.

You yelped, mewling in, what you could consider, pain. Pain of the lack of touch.

One thought after another paced into your mind, but the one that stung the most must've been the simple question; why?

Why did the villagers do this? Hadn't you helped them well enough? Weren't you good?

Were they still, after having received your help, desperate to damage the King's property? In order to weaken him?

You scoffed at the thought. Yeah, as if.

The more disgusting thought probably had to be that they weren't in disgust of you, no, they wanted you to reproduce. They wanted more of Sukuna's kind, for the man also had worshippers, not only enemies. And this village had been such as those, you hadn't missed their eyes lingering on the King's large form.

What had you done to deserve this?

You'd have to tell Sukuna eventually.

And that would mean the death of the villagers.

You didn't want that, either.

But it was only a matter of time until said King would find out about your condition.

You thought, maybe he'd find out by the use of his enhanced senses. He'd smell the aphrodisiacs, and know what had happend to you. Or maybe he already knew these type of flowers, and he'd be able to tell by the mere look of them.

What you hadn't expected was for him to find you hopelessly humping a pillow.

The one placed in the bed you shared with him.

You had thought he went hunting— and no other servants dared to enter his room without knocking and getting an approval.

And for his sake, you would've been embarassed to see him standing there, his upper arms crossed, his expression fading from surprised to.. amused? Whatever. The King could never be surprised, could he?

You would've been embarassed, if it hadn't been for the high effects these flowers had casted upon you.

You felt like you were in heat.

You couldn't stop. A mess of whimpers, mewls and moans was what you were.

"..m-m ngh- haa- 'm s-so.. s.. sorry— 'kuna—!"

To Sukuna, you were a sight worth millions.

What could he say? Your tits, once hidden behind your kimono, were out, bouncing along to your hopeless humping. Your hair was messy, your eyes droopy, but open enough for him to catch your blown out pupils— not to mention the fact that you looked up at him as if he were your savior. Your breaths came out shallow, and your moans.. your moans were what he could consider a masterpiece. It only added to his own arousal when you moaned his name. Well, petname now, apparently.

He wanted to touch you.

To demolish you himself.

"They've drugged you. I see. Their village shall burn to the grounds—"

"N-no! -kuna p-please don't leave meee!—" you panted, desperately rubbing your clit now.

He wasn't planning to leave, however hearing you beg for it was a little cherry on top. He smirked, nearing you as he yanked your hand off of your poor bud.

And shit, the way you looked up at him— your eyes glossy, partly embarassed and partly so deep in the haze of your own arousal.

His other hand tangled into your hair, snapping your head up to look up at him.

He spoke lowly, his voice a mere rasp,

"Tell me what you desire, my dove."

"You."

No hesitation.

Well fuck, if that didn't make Sukuna rock hard, then he'd be doomed.

"Hm. Stop your humping on that thing. Come here."

His hold on your hair guided you up. You whimpered, the loss of friction and close release could've been enough of a reason for you to have started sobbing.

"Your body is truly pathetic. You can't even withstand a mere aphrodisiac. How are you to survive in this world without me by your side?"

He yanked you up, holding you with his lower arms by your thighs as he pressed you to the nearest wall. You whined, the little clothing you still owned slipping down your form, leaving you fully naked. He was already shirtless, never fond of any tops.

"Hm. A day ago you would've cried from embarrassment. How amusing."

That's when you felt it.

Your cunt was directly pressed to his stomach.

Exactly where his maw was located at.

He wasted no time, slithering the thick muscle from your thighs to your chasm, and into your folds. The dip was delicious, spreading your arousal all around as it began slipping inside of you.

Sukuna's actual mouth acted with thoughts, for he was the one controlling its actions.

His maw, however, acted on pure instinct. That's why on the day you fed him, it wasn't his actual mouth accepting your offer, but his maw, which knew what he had needed.

And it knew what you needed, now, because it was pumping inside of you like a real dick, stretching you out in ways that should hurt if it werent for the mixture of his spit and your liquid.

You moaned loudly, holding into the man as you squirmed. The canines of his maw brushed over your plush thighs, trying to savour your taste.

It was eating you.

Literally.

You gasped when you felt Sukuna's free hands groping your breasts harshly, running his thumbs over your hardened buds.

He pinched them.

And you cried out. Loudly, at that. It hurt, the overstimulation just adding to it as your breasts swelled.

And then he spat on them, meeting your druggen, almost passed out gaze with his grin.

His tongue, still pushing inside of you as if it were to devour you at any moment, was originally going to make you cum.. but..

"S-stop- 'kuna please! E- haah- enough!"

Said man stopped immediately, his tongue stilling inside of you, your walls pulsating around him.

"What is it, brat? You haven't even had your release yet. Don't tell me it's already too much."

You shook your head, blushing as your hands went around his head. He shot you a confused look before you leaned in to press your lips on his.

He was taken aback. A grunt left his lips as he accepted his fate, though he seemed to still, as if not knowing what to do.

But you giggled, actually giggled at him.

"Want you 'kuna. W-want you to feel good too,"

"Don't be silly. You will wither trying to take me."

"'n y-you'll just heal me then, no?"

"..."

He grunted, removing his tongue from you before placing you on the bed.

You looked so beautiful, spread out like a flower blooming. Your cunt was glistening, spread and messy from his tongue.

And yet, you had the audacity to feel shy at the moment.

Using your hands to cover what's his.

"Remove your hands at once, or I will not take any mercy on you, brat." He snarled, slowly pushing his pants down.

You obeyed.

And there he was.

There they were.

Standing at proud, over-human-sized inches, both of his cocks, glistening with leaking pre-cum.

He was right. You would wither trying to take him.

"Excited already?"

Oh, yeah.

How did you not notice the way you basically went on all fours within seconds, looking at his cocks as if they were treasures.

"S..so big—" your hands wrapped around his lower cock, experimentally giving a few pumps. The King, to all his glory, grunted, his eyebrows furrowed.

"So desperate, my dove. Tch."

Your mouth fell open as you went to take his upper dick, kitty licking over his tip, tasting his cum.

Fuck.

It didn't take long for you to wrap your mouth around his tip, pumping his other rock-hard, desperate cock.

And maybe, he was just as desperate— his hand wrapped around your neck, slowly inching his dick deeper into you.

You could cum on spot for what he said next;

"Good girl. F-fuck."

Not only did the big, bad King just do what you yearned for the whole time (praise you), but he also had stuttered (whimpered, really. But you'll take what you get).

You moaned around his large shaft, bobbing your head when you noticed you wouldn't be able to go any deeper. Tears were running down your cheeks, sobs escaping your full throat.

Your fingers engulfed him, your thumb rubbing his leaking tip while the other hand stroked his base, feeling the vein running underneath.

He was so perfect.

During your moment of bliss, you barely noticed his cussing, let alone his demands.

"G-get off— woman."

But you didn't.

You couldn't.

And he couldn't stop you, for the pleasure was way too great.

With that, he shot, not one, but two big loads onto you, one running inside of your throat and the other outside your throat, soaking your skin with white, sticky cum.

You were eager to swallow, and even more eager to continue, though your mouth was starting to get sore and tired.

"E-enough- for fuck's sake- off!" He groaned as he pulled you off forcefully, your mouth still connected to his dick by the mixture of cum and saliva.

Well fuck, if that wasn't a sight..

His dick remained hard, and you wondered how many releases he needed in order to soften.

"Real fuckin' minx. You think you can take both?"

You shook your head harshly, sobbing at the mere thought.

"Backing out? Already? How pathetic. I haven't even got the real chance to please you."

Without another word, he threw you on your back, gripping your legs and pressing them against your chest— literally folding you.

"'Kuna- Kuna haa!—" you cried out as you felt his tongue dive into your cunt again, his tip prodding the place right under your hole.

"Ca- can't take bo- ahh- both! Please!—"

He hummed, his tongue retreating.

"I suppose you can't, no."

"Huh?— Ah—!"

He entered you without another warning, without any time to adjust.

He was big.

He hurt.

But you did give him your promise that it'd be okay. And he said he'd heal you. So it should be okay if you could feel your walls clampering down on him, begging for a release and for him to stop his torture.

The pain easily mixed with the pleasure when he started thrusting into you, holding your legs with two of his arms, the other two keeping him steady above you. His other tip kept nudging your clit, making you cry out everytime your nerves got any kind of friction.

"Mhh. Such a glorious sight you are, my dove. So vulnerable.. can't even handle one cock, how are you ever supposed to take me?"

Ever?

You would've questioned it, if it weren't for the drool running down your lips, and the tears straining your cheeks. He chuckled, leaning down to you to lick away your tears and saliva.

His chest steadied your legs in position, and he used this as an advantage to run his hands all over your body.

You cried out when you felt multiple sharp teeth nibbling at your skin, some drawing blood, some sucking your skin.

He'd summoned mouths over his hands.

Moaning, you squirmed beneath him, his thrusts brutal enough to send you flying if it weren't for his grip.

"Ngh- ha- c-can't.. g'na cum-"

"Go on, little one. C-cum- fuck-" his breaths where heavy, and you could tell by his twitching cock inside of you that he was close aswell.

"Gonna f-fill you up, gonna fill you up so good— fuck- stop squeezing me like that, wo-hah- woman-!"

You came with a loud scream of his name, him following curtly after.

Hot, sticky cum filled your walls as he pulled out, his upper cock having spurt cum aswell. It coated your abdomen, up to your swollen breasts.

Shit.

"Haa- n-no! Enough-!" You yelped as you felt his fingers back in your hole.

He scoffed, "You're wasting my cum. Keep. It. In."

"Y-yeah as if I could do thaaa- holy shit!-" he filled you to the brim, knuckles deep inside of you, shoving every bit of his sticky substance into you.

"'Kunaaaaaa-"

"Fuck. Fine. I'll let this slip this time."

His hands hovered over the open wounds he'd caused, though he really rather looked smug. He healed you, fixing all what had to be fixed while hoisting you up into his arms.

"..this time?.."

He tilted his head.

"You didn't think this was a one time thing, did you?"

Oh but you did.

Whoops.

Blushing, you looked away.

"I- I don't want to be a concubine."

"..You're a fool to believe I'd consider you as such."

Silence.

Oh. Wait. That meant?..

"You know I'll still end those who hurt you, right?"

"Yeah."

He hummed, "Very well, I'll be on my way tomorrow. If you wish to follow, you are free to do so."

Silence.

"Sukuna?"

"Brat."

"Just.. spare the children and their parents, will you? They just—" you stopped, sighing as you nuzzled further into him, "—they.. he reminded me of you. You were like him too, once. I-.. it surprised me, that they didn't abandon him. I'd like him to do what we couldn't."

And what would that be? You and Sukuna basically could do anything. Were you saying he might've been uncapable of something? He killed all his life, he survived, he lived. What couldn't he possibly do?

"You must be mistaken, little one. We've done everything. We're capable of everything."

To his surprise, your voice came out weak. Weak like he'd never heard before. Not even when the people started chasing you with torches and knives, and spat mean words at you for your mere existence.

"...I'd like him to grow up loved."

"..."

...but Sukuna had loved you, hadn't he?

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