Welcome Home, Satoru: in which you, Satoru, and Suguru have sex after not being together for a month. Satoru is especially rough w you and Suguru isn’t happy about it. (WC 6.6k)

First Time/ First Date: in which they confess their feelings for you. You have sex with them for the first time, this is also your first time having a threesome. (WC 8.8k)

1 Year Anniversary Celebration: 🧚🏽‍♂️ in which you go to dinner to celebrate your anniversary. Your husbands are teasing you at dinner & you fuck them in the car after. (WC 5.2k)

Bedtime with Suguru: in which you make love with Suguru and are missing Satoru. (WC 2k)

Suguru Teases You & Satoru with Each Other: 🧚🏽‍♂️ in which Suguru takes control over you and Satoru, making you fuck each other by his commands. (WC 4.2k)

You Watch Satoru Top Suguru: in which Suguru, who normally tops, asks to bottom. You and Satoru take advantage of the opportunity. (WC 3.9k)

Satoru is Determined to Make You Squirt After You Do it For Suguru: this is a continuation/ part 2 of ‘You Watch Satoru Top Suguru’. After you squirt all over Suguru’s face, Satoru is determined to get you to do it in his dick this time. (WC 2.4k)

You Flirt with a Stranger and Suguru Goes Feral: in which you test your luck by flirting with a stranger to see how your husbands will react. (WC 5.2k)

Come Back, Suguru: 🧚🏽‍♂️ in which you and Satoru are worried about Suguru after he falls into a depressive episode. (WC 5.2k)

Happy Birthday to You: in which you test out your dom side and your husbands are willing, submissive participants. (WC 4.1k)

Mole Theory: in which your husbands find out about the mole theory and kiss all your moles. (WC 700)

Let’s Make This Official: in which you move in with your boyfriends and they propose. (WC 6k)

Going Public: in which your engagement to Satoru & Suguru is announced to the Higher Ups and students. (WC 4.6k)

Suguru’s 30th Birthday: you and your husbands go to Okinawa to celebrate Suguru’s birthday. On the itinerary: gifts, tourist destinations, and overstimulating the birthday boy. (WC 4.5k)

Surrogate Girl Dad Suguru: Suguru brings home Nanako and Mimiko after finding them locked in a cage at a secluded village. (WC 2.5k)

Satoru is the Perfect Cure for Insomnia: Satoru helps you fall asleep after a stressful day. (WC 2.5k)

In Sickness & In Health: Satoru and Suguru are distraught after you break your ankle, doing everything in their power to take care of all your needs. (WC 3.3k)

Some men would go to the forest late afternoon, solely to come back the next morning, long before the first crowing of the cock. With dreamy eyes veiled by a mist and minds completly blank, as if the night creatures of the woods sucked their memories away.  

They would reckon some bits and snippets of nightly wander, with cold wind brushing their cheeks and hazy visions of a woman's voice pulling them towards the weird-looking hut. But they could never remember the details, and thus the forest witch was nothing but a tale creeping through the creaky windows of the wooden houses.

The villagers stayed away from the woods, and children were forbidden from going near.

And everyone went by this silent rule.

Oh, well… almost everyone.

For two lumberjacks, Toji Fushiguro and Sukuna Ryomen, could not care less about the trumped-up fable.

Two massive, burly men – the biggest in the village, truly, and the only ones providing the thick timber logs.

It was not that other husbands didn’t dare to dive into the woods, but rather… well, there was just too much harvest, and every pair of strong hands was needed. At least that was the thought that allowed them to sleep serenely.

Without risking their lives, without the danger of meeting spectral creatures and chicken-legged huts.

But Toji and Sukuna have only believed in things they could see. Touch, experience, remember in detail. That was why the tale of a forest hag sounded to them both rather foolish, almost made up.

Did their mothers, grandmothers and great-grandmothers warn them about the dangers of the forest?

Surely.

But even as nippers, they couldn’t keep their prying eyes away from the thick greens, with one tree spookier than the other. 

Thus, now, at the age of thirty-five, they still didn’t care about all the rumours going around. And the daily occurrence of villagers tucking tightly inside their houses after the last beams of sun left the earth was quite amusing.

Fools, they have thought, while going back and forth between the forest and a village every single day.

Until, well… until one day they saw a hut.

The dusk has fallen quietly over the golden fields, with a deep purple blanket covering the sky. Nothing but a faint glimmer of stars crept through the dense trees, and both men found themselves rather lost.

They had never gone that deep into the woods, but the need for logs was higher around that time as the summer solstice was just around the corner. And with the planned celebrations, grand feast and fire jumping, they would need much more timber than usual.

It was not that they couldn’t find their way out, but all the looming trees started to resemble eerie creatures. With branches curling restlessly behind their backs, as if trying to brush two foolish souls passing through the enchanted woods. The lethargic melody of crickets was long gone, leaving the forest in a deathly silence.

Nightly wind brushed their dust-covered shirts, bringing a gentle shiver down their spines.

Was it caused by a cold?

Or maybe by a deep, dread feeling of someone, something, lurking behind the gnarled branches?

They walked farther and farther, thinking that they were getting closer to the familiar fields of the village. Thinking that the little pond they passed every day was right behind the next tree, with slimy frogs humming on the cold stones. That soon they would notice a golden glimpse of not-yet-sickled wheat and wooden houses filled with candled warmth.

Their backs burned from all the gathered logs, and eyes tried to see through the thick darkness filling the forest air. Not even stars could help them, and for the first time in their lives, a bizarre thought had crossed their mind.

That maybe they could have listened to all the cautionary tales about the dangers of the woods. 

That the trees were truly unpredictable and wicked, with their sharp needles poking their skins.

That a faint meow stretching between the softwoods was a bad omen.

"Did you hear it?" Sukuna murmured, stopping in tracks. 

Toji furrowed, finger gripping the saw firmer. "Was that a fucking cat?"

They stood in place, listening carefully for another sign that some normal, living creature was wandering somewhere around.

Another soft meow sent a shiver down their spines.

"Why would a cat be here?" Sukuna murmured, going towards the source.

Whether it was a foolish decision or not, they would need to find out on their own.

As the cat could mean two things – firstly, another village somewhere nearby and a place where they could spend the night. 

Secondly…

"You know why," Toji murmured, with all the warnings his grandmother had stuffed into his head suddenly lighting up.

Sukuna scoffed, looking over his shoulder. "Don’t tell me you’re scared."

"Fuck no."

But why would the cat be here? He wanted to add.

They moved slowly, with the muffled meows growing clearer and higher-pitched, but none of them noticed a feline slipping between the branches. 

They walked for another five, ten, maybe fifteen minutes, and even glimmering stars looked down at their sweating backs with a silent frown. Wandering that deep into the forest could not finish well.

But then, something appeared.

A hut.

Tall and looming, resembling something straight out of those delirious tales they loved to ignore that much. Spreading an eerie atmosphere, with a cold air biting much harsher than before. 

It stood in the middle of the woods, having a skull–topped fence surrounding it in a neat circle and a black cat sitting lazily on one of the milky heads. Wet earth dipped under the big, thick claws of a long chicken leg, made of nothing but skin and bones.

At its top sat a small house. Made of dark wood, with smooth walls and a crooked roof pinned rather messily. 

Both men furrowed their brows, seeing no doors nor windows, although grey mist loomed over the bended chimney.

A cat meowed, a raven croaked, and the woods came even closer, as if inviting them in and slowly covering all the paths with their thick branches.

"Yeah, I’m not doing it," Toji murmured.

Sukuna’s crimson eyes gazed at the wicked hut before a sight slipped away. "Fuck no."

They needed a single glance to turn around on their feet and walk away. As far as they could, till the endless plains of woods would let them out.

Because, at some point, they would find the right path. Probably.

Thus they walked, and walked, and walked till their legs were burning and faint meowing was left far behind. The trees never changed, bending and curling above their heads like spider’s webs, with leaves and needles dropping onto their shoulders.

The air was biting frost, although summer had almost come, and carried a lingering taste of rottenness.

At some point, they finally saw a faint glow. Pale glimmer, drawing from between the dense trees. A rise of hope bubbled in their chests, with fingers gripping the saws and legs suddenly moving much faster. 

They finally found it – an exit from this wicked forest.

With crows following their every step and darkness sharpening its teeth to swallow them whole. 

Little stones rolled beneath their feet, cheeks bled from the curled branches slashing through their skin, backs dipped under the weight of carried logs, but then they took the one last step and–

And found themselves back in the hut.

The faint glow they had chased was just a moonlight bouncing off the skull fence. The cat was still there, with yellow eyes glancing at them rather cheekily – as if the feline knew that both men were already done for.

Grey smoke still curled around the chimney, but this time it was much denser. Thicker, and it seemed that someone must’ve been inside this little, wooden house. 

"Dear God," Toji murmured, taking a deep breath. "How is it possible?"

Sukuna’s brows furrowed, crimson eyes slashing with the cat’s amused gaze. "I don’t know, but we need to keep moving."

"Where? We walked for twenty minutes and did a fucking circle."

They didn’t dare to walk past the skull-topped fence and thus stood still at the edge of the forest. Trees behind them chanted wickedly, tickling the backs of their sweating necks.

"You’re right, okay, let’s try that way," Sukuna pointed out at another path. "Maybe we will find a neighbouring village."

So they did just that.

And when their eyes caught a sinister hut again, towering over the looming trees, they both cursed under their breaths.  

Each path they took always led them straight towards the skull-topped fence, and after the fourth time, they finally crossed its border. They walked past the creamy heads and purring feline before standing by the bony chicken leg.

Everything looked like a nightmare – the hut, the fence, the moonlight shining on their wet foreheads and a cat, slowly sitting up. 

Like a fever dream they couldn’t wake up from, and every little detail of the tales whispered by the villagers suddenly flooded their minds.

They didn’t want to end up as the blasphemous hag’s sweet little treats. With their bones licked clean and dumped down the endless pit of her basement. 

If they wanted to get out of the forest before sunrise, they needed to act quickly.

"Let’s cut this down," Toji suddenly rolled, leaving Sukuna speechless.

"You mean, the leg?"

The man nodded, with scarred lips curving up. "If we’re going to die anyway, why not get her first? If she’s as old as everyone says, killing her would surely be a piece of cake."

A silence stretched between them, as if both Sukuna and a black cat and a big crow, that had sat quietly on the fence, were trying to process what he just said. 

"You want to murder an old lady?"

Toji scoffed. "Don’t look at me like that. She’s a witch!"

"But she’s also a…" Sukuna wanted to say a human, but he wasn’t entirely sure.

Was she a human?

Or maybe a spawn of the devil, a satab itself?

Toji gripped an axe tighter, poking the bony leg with the wooden end. It was rather thin, and he wondered how such a fragile thing could hold a whole hut. 

A spell?

"Why won’t we just cut it down first and see whether she’s there?" Sukuna murmured, lifting his axe.

"And if she’ll be there, we will…"

Sukuna tsked. "Let’s see first. Maybe, if we ask nicely, a hag will let us go. Maybe she’s not even that bad as people say."

None of them believed it, and creamy skulls sitting quietly on long bones should be evidence enough.

They both raised axes – with muscular forearms bulging under the muscles and eyes glued to the thin ankle of the chicken’s leg. It was steady, with long claws gripping the earth and yellow skin pulsing under the spilling moonlight.

And the moment their arms had swung, something hit them.

No, something has burst at their faces, and only then have they noticed a row of puffballs. With white caps breaking under their heavy shoes and powdery clouds erupting right into their noses.

But it seemed they weren’t just normal mushrooms, as the world in front of the men’s eyes started to swirl. Gaze slipped into fogginess, and lungs filled with a bitter powder. It burned their throats, chests, pushing sharp needles into their hearts, till both fell to their knees. 

They cat meowed softly in the back, the crow hummed, and the moonlight could only glance down pitifully at two lumberjacks slowly sacking out.

𖤐 𖤐 𖤐

When Sukuna slowly opened his eyes, something heavy lay sprawled on his chest. Warm and purring, with black fur floating around his lips and soft paws brushing his nose. 

The cat, the same one they saw just a while ago, sat down right above his heart, with yellow eyes glued to his slowly waking up face.

His mind was still a bit dizzy, and the bitter aftertaste of mushrooms swirled on his tongue, sticking to each and every corner of his throat. There was something soft under his body, although, surprisingly, he noticed that he lay shirtless.

And as it turned out, Toji was undressed too.

Spread right next to him, with hands lifted high up and wrists tied to a… bed frame?

Fuck, slipped silently, as he realised that his wrists were tied too. Strong enough not to rip the smooth fabric, but soft enough not to hurt his skin. 

"What is this place?" Toji murmured, only now waking up from a deep slumber.

Sukuna couldn’t see anything because of the fluffy beast purring on his chest, but Toji…

"Fucking hell," he whispered, feeling his heart flutter.

Sukun turned head his way, seeing the emerald eyes of his friend glued to something in front of them.

Someone, maybe. 

You.

A witch.

Your back was covered by a velvet, purple robe, brushing the wooden floor. Wide sleeves hung from your wrists, moving like clouds with every gentle swoosh of your hand. Toji couldn’t see much of your face, but only its profile – soft and kind, with plump lips murmuring something under your breath and hair hugging your cheeks. 

The inside of the hut was much larger than they had thought, and surely you must’ve used a kind of special spell. Rows and rows of books lay messily on shelves, with dried herbs hanging from the ceiling. A massive, brass cauldron stood right next to you on the low wooden table, with eerie greenish mist floating above the bubbling water. 

It looked warm, rather cosy, filled with the gentle crackling of candles and their yellow glow lighting up your furrowed brows.

When Sukuna sneezed, feeling the fur tickling his nose, you turned their way.

"Oh my," slipped in melody, and Toji held his breath. Your face was even more beautiful than he had thought, with beaming eyes curving in a gentle smile. "Apologies, mister. Lucifer, go away, let him breathe," you shooed the cat, before sitting at the end of the bed.

And then Sukuna could finally see you – an angel.

Or rather, a witch, as the legends said.

But your countenance looked nothing like the tales forsweared, as Sukuna’s breath hitched upon seeing a glimmer dancing behind your eyes. So soft and kind. Plush lips twisted in a smile, and when his gaze slipped down, something in his lower body moved.

Toji couldn’t see it before, but the purple robe flowing down your figure was much more flimsy than he had thought. With your soft collarbones gleaming under the candle’s light, and barely covered chest. They could clearly see the swell of your breasts, with their heavy fat barely hidden behind the material. 

Fucking hell.

Maybe they wished you looked more like legends swore – a hundred-year-old hag with a crooked nose.

"Miss," Toji choked out, with a mouth dry as wheat. "I think there has been a misunderstanding."

Your head tilted, and eyes flashed with amusement. "A misunderstanding? Aren’t you the ones who mere minutes ago wanted to cut down my hut?"

Their lips fell flat. 

"And aren’t you the ones who wished to, hm, how was it…" slipped in a giggle, while a fat cat purred on your lap. "Kill an old lady?"

Both of them looked rather stupefied, and a sight of two burly men tied to your bed frame was quite pleasant. 

What’s more, you didn’t even try to hide your deep eyes wandering around their half-naked bodies. With heavy muscles beaming under the light coating of sweat, and palms big enough to crush your whole head. 

Their tall, massive bodies could barely fit on your bed, and a few spells needed to be used to make it a bit wider. Shocked, but oh so handsome, faces looked at you in disbelief, and you felt their eyes slipping between the swell of your breasts and plush lips curving mischievously.

"Have you heard it?" Sukuna asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Not me," you looked down at the black cat, petting its soft fur gently. "But Lucifer is my eyes and ears. You got lost, from what he said. No one ever told you not to wander around the woods in the night?"

Your giggle tasted like an aphrodisiac, and both men shifted uncomfortably on the bed. 

"Listen, miss, how about we apologise and you’ll let us go, hm? Let’s forget about–"

"Well," you interrupted, slowly standing up. The cat jumped off your lap and strolled towards the fireplace, sitting his fat ass on the soft carpet. "I usually have two ways of dealing with men of your sort," your fingers lifted a little glass phial with pinkish fluid. "I either clear their memories and simply let them go–"

"Wonderful, let’s get to it," Toji murmured, but you sent him a quick, cheeky look.

Oh, so that was not a way destined for them.

"Or," quiet footsteps filled the hut, as you walked towards a big carpet spread on the floor. With a single move, you rolled aside to present small doors, leading to the… "I throw them here. But no woman has complained about you two and wished for a curse, so fear not, dear sirs. Or, Toji and Sukuna."

You covered the basement, leaving them both scared and breathless.

"What have you heard about me?" suddenly rolled, as you walked back to the cauldron. The green mist still floated over it, and you turned at the long shelf filled with colourful little phials. 

"You’re a witch," Toji muttered, trying to keep his eyes on the back of your head and not the way velvety robes hugged your hips.

You hummed with a smile. "Go on."

"That you kidnap children," Sukuna added, seeing your back tremble in laughter. "And eat their flesh with iron teeth."

"Oh, truly?" came with a melodic laugh they both felt right in their cocks. Some purple liquid was added to the mixture boiling in a cauldron, and the mist changed from green to red. "That’s my favourite one so far. Anything else?"

You glanced over your shoulder to see their creased foreheads. One covered with raven hair and the other with soft, pinkish strands. 

"The women seem to like you," Toji murmured, noticing a little smile beaming on your cheeks.

"Haven’t you noticed a sudden surge in child births?" When they nodded slowly, you continued. "Well, no need to thank me. I’m glad I could help. And it leads me to why I decided to tie you up."

You looked more closely into the boiling cauldron, a gentle crease appearing between your brows. 

"Are you going to kill us?" Sukuna finally choked out, and your eyes quickly came back to them. 

Silence stretched mercilessly as they watched you come closer. And closer, and closer, till the bed dipped under your plush body, slowly climbing up theirs. Your knees scratched their thighs, palms dipped into the small spaces between their heavy chests, and soon a sugary fragrance hit their minds.

Curling around them sweetly, almost suffocating with the tender hints of berries and flowers, beaming on your soft neck.

Your hips straddled each of their thigh and the purple robe curled around your hips, hugging the spilling fat. Looking at the flowing material, they were rather sure you didn’t wear any panties.

Something bulged under your thighs, and a little smirk crawled up your lips.

"I won’t," slipped cheekily. "But first, sirs, say ah."

They furrowed, but opened their lips up, and before either of them could react, your fingers landed inside their mouths. With a gentle touch swirling between their gums and milky fangs, as if examining every curve of them.

You hummed softly before pulling the fingers back and allowing them to cough.

"Miss, are you crazy?" Toji barked, but you ignored him.

"Healthy gums, straight teeth, that’s good, good," slipped in a murmur, before your fingers landed in their hair. A silent tsk followed, as you pulled out two single strands.

"Hey, missy, what the hell are you doing?" Sukuna growled, wriggling under your hips. 

It did him nor Toji no good, because their already hard cocks dugged into the fat of your thighs deeper, pushing out a low, strangled hum of their throats. And a soft giggle from yours.

With two soft curls, you slowly slipped off their hips, leaving both men with a quiet disappointment. 

"You see, lots of women come to my hut with a wish to bear a child," their hair landed inside the cauldron, and a red mist changed into purple. "For many, I’m just a scary witch, but women cherish me as… a forest goddess, you may say," you mixed the boiling mixture with a wooden spoon, and a soft that’s good, perfect slipped through. "Fulfilling their desires is rather easy, you see. A simple mixture is enough to bloom their fertility."

Both men tried to listen closely, but could only focus on how quickly your warmth had left their bodies. 

Quite unpleasant, slightly unfortunate.

Toji furrowed. "Miss, what does that have to do with us?"

"I also want a child. No, I need to have a child to keep the lineage of witches," rolled softly, with your voice slipping into something warmer. "That’s what my mother did. And her mother, sisters, aunts, and every woman in my family. All of them chose a man healthy like a horse, the most potent one in the entire village."

Oh.

Something bubbled in their chest. A sudden warmth, a wave of electricity washed over their bodies, as both Sukuna and Toji looked at your blessed face with round eyes.

For a while, nothing but the cat’s soft purring and the soft crackling of the fireplace filled the hut. A deep silence, marked by unbearable tension. Your lips fell in line, forehead wrinkled with a coiling thought.

Toji coughed. "So we–"

"Yes," you quickly added. "You are the most perfect for this role."

And the rest played out faster than they expected.

The misty, purple robes suddenly fell off your shoulders, fully unveiling your divine body. With perked nipples licked warmly by a candle’s flame and a plush belly, their teeth already itched to dip into. You started to move – slowly, with thighs jiggling gently and lips curving in a mischievous smile.

"You can refuse, of course," slipped in a bewitching sweetness, curling around their lips and minds and already leaking cocks.

Refuse? They would be fools to refuse a woman like you.

"If you wish, I shall clear your minds and simply let you go. I'm sure, at some point, my path would cross with yet another potent men," the mattress dipped under your weight as you, once again, started crawling up their bodies.

Your words creased their foreheads.

Another men?

"But if you decide to stay–"

Their breaths hitched, feeling the sweetness of your breath hit their cheeks.

Something wicked coiled behind your pupils – arousing, suffocating them with the lustfulness of your gaze. You looked into Sukuna’s crimson eyes before your lips touched the corner of his. Shortly, softly, slowly moving to the next man and gently licking the pale scar slashing his maw. 

"If you stay, you’ll need to be my obedient husbands. And give me lots and lots of witches," you whispered, waiting quietly for an answer. With your cunt dripping down their clothed thighs and their cocks shifting under your body. 

They stared at you – with crimson and emerald eyes sparkling in feary madness.

Oh, so you truly were a witch, for their minds suddenly filled with a flaming need to obey your wicked request. The sweet fragrance of your naked skin wrapped around their senses like a poison. A spell, maybe, and they wondered whether you truly cast a sort of devilish charm.

To mould them as you wished, bending and pushing their minds over the edge with nothing but sweet little whispers. And trickery eyes, cherry lips, heavy breasts just waiting to be fondled and, dear god, your cunt brushing against their thighs.

"What do you say?" You whispered, before placing palms on their cheeks. "Do you wish to go back to your village? Or maybe fill me up like good boys, hm? Today is my most fertile night, so it should go quite easily."

"Untie us," Sukuna whispered, with eyes not leaving your face even for a second. 

Toji kissed the inside of your palm softly, with emerald eyes looking at your warming face. "Come on, baby, untie us. If you want to have a baby, let’s make one, hm?"

With a single snap of your fingers, their wrists fell. 

And then, oh well… you truly were a wicked and powerful witch.

But still a rather foolish, stupid young girl, who knew nothing about men.

About lustful, foxy, much older and stronger men, who you accidentally aroused in a most maddened way.

Your belly hit the mattress before you even knew it, and big palms lifted your drenched hips.

"Wait–" you choked and tried to lift your chest, but a heavy palm landed between your shoulders. 

"Don’t worry, little witch," Sukuna rolled, leaning towards you. Warm lips curled around your earlobe before moving to the back of your neck, and shoulders and liquid spine. "Let your husbands take good care of you."

Drenched folds of your cunt met with Toji’s calloused fingers, before he spread them open. A sudden warmth hit your core, and he took a long and nasty sniff of your dripping wet.

"Baby, you smell so fucking sweet," rolled in a groan, before Sukuna joined him. 

His finger brushed your hole, scooping up a few sticky strings of juices. He licked it clean, with a low hum filling the hut. "Fuck, the best meal I’ve ever had. Arch a bit more, sugar, and spread yourself open."

His hand pushed you into the mattress even harsher, till breath knocked out of your chest. 

"Just like that, baby," Toji hummed with a sly smile, bending his lips upon hearing your teary gasp. "You’re doing so well already, hm? So fucking wet."

There was no need to ask, for both of them knew that you were a virgin. It was quite obvious, with your hole fluttering shyly, drenching their digits in gluey saps of cum. Juices trickled down your thighs, dripped onto the mattress, and Toji bent over to lick your skin clean. 

His tongue warmed the inside of your thighs, the mound of ass, before he finally spread your cheeks wider, and you felt the plush muscle on your warmth.

"A-Ah–" fell in a pitched moan, as you wriggled under Sukuna’s hand.

He leaned closer, brushing away single strands of hair from your cheeks. One of his palms still lay heavily between your shoulders, pushing you against the mattress, while the other started to fiddle with his trousers.

"Have you ever sucked a dick, sugar?" He cooed warmly, but mischievous flames danced behind his crimson eyes. When your head shook, he chuckled. "Of course not, such a sweet little witch. Though you really know how to fire up a man."

Another moan slipped between your lips when Toji’s tongue landed on your clit. Curling, pushing, and abusing the plump spot, making your toes curl in pleasure. Another wave of honeyed cum flowed from your cunt, and he drank it hungrily, growling in delight over the sticky cum dripping down his throat. 

"Fuck, baby, if that’s how you pussy tastes, you can use me all you want," he groaned, brushing his clothed cock against your foot. His finger slipped in, and before you could scream, Sukuna’s lips quickly crashed against yours. "Another men, you must be fucking joking. Although you really set the bar high, thinking you can take two cocks at once," he pushed it further, feeling your walls clasp his digit. "So fucking tight."

"Don’t worry, little witch," Sukuna mumbled, fisting his cock with one hand. "We’ll try not to tear you open. I’m sure Toji will stretch your sweet cunt enough to fit us both, hm?"

But seeing the veiny, massive thing sitting in his hand – you weren’t quite sure.

And only then have you realised that maybe you underestimated both of them. Thinking that using them to get pregnant would be smooth and easy, and after a mere few minutes, you would simply send them back to the village.

The whole husbands thing was just a foolish play, but, as it turned out, your silly plan has missed a few rather important details that.

Firstly, both Toji and Sukuna were massive. Muscular wasn’t the right word to describe their ripped bodies, with backs broad like mountains and heavy forearms manhandling you in the most toe-curling way. Two beasts, with necks thick as logs and rolling shoulders that could easily lift you without a sweat.

They cast a shadow over your trembling body, and Sukuna needed just a single hand to overpower you fully. 

You didn’t feel the unbearable air they’ve spread around each other until you foolishly untied them. 

It wrapped around your neck, weighted on your chest, with their hands and lips and brutal force slowly opening you up in the most pleasurable way.

With Sukuna’s fat cock pushing through your wet lips and Toji’s fingers keeping your hips in place.

"Come on, little witch, open up. Give me a good lick," Sukuna’s hand travelled from your back up, resting on head. Fingers gripped your hair gently, but not forcefully. No, after all, he wanted you to take him willingly – to swirl this wicked tongue around his leaking cock and get drunk on precum. "That’s a good girl, mhm, don’t bite it, you’re doing so well."

His words somehow tickled your mind, and you choked on his cock even further. Salty precum glued to your throat and veins scratched the roof of your mouth. His musky, manly smell pushed out yet another wave of honeyed juices of your cunt, and Toji drank them with a low hum. 

When the second finger joined in, you jolted, trying to move hips away.

"Ah ah, baby, there’s no running," Toji chuckled, feeling your fluttering walls hardly swallowing his fingers. "Fucking hell, at this rate you won’t take even a single cock."

His lips curled around your clit, sucking the plump bud with delighted growls and sending low tremors straight to your cunt. His heavy tongue feasted on your sweetness as if starved, with fingers slowly working you open and abusing a single, plush spot relentlessly.

"How do you feel, sugar? What does it feel like to have your pussy eaten out for the first time–fuck," Sukuna cursed, feeling your throat clench around his pulsing cock. "You look so fucking ethereal, hell, the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen. Don’t worry, I won’t cum inside your throat. I’m keeping it warm and safe for your sweet cunt."

You couldn’t stand it.

Their dirty words, warm fingers caressing your body with gentle strokes, all the buttons they somehow knew how to push to turn you into a miserable, whimpering mess. With crystal droplets swirling in the corners of your eyes and a pleasure washing over your spine each time Toji sucked on your clit.

When his fingers bent again, you cried. Pitifully, like an angel, sending a tremble straight to Sukuna’s cock. 

He moved, sitting right in front of you, letting your lips drop down even further, till the feverish head of his cock hit the back of your throat. Your fingers dug into his massive thighs, and saliva dripped down his balls. 

"Fuck, so good sugar, you’re doing so well," he warmly cheered you on, taking a hefty fist of your hair. "Suck on the head. Yeah, just like that, try to hollow your cheeks, take me deeper," when his head hit your back wall again, you started coughing. He quickly lifted you, brushing away a few dropping tears. Heavy hand squeezed your cheeks, pushing out swollen lips. "My little witch, where’s all the courage from before, hm? You really have no idea what you asked for."

You didn’t say anything, as his lips soon crashed against yours. In a sloppy kiss, with tongue swirling inside your mouth and a long stripe of spit dripping down your chin.

Oh, he was starving to feel that sweet cunt of yours tear around his cock. To feel your warm walls clasp around his shaft and soft moans fill the sizzling inside of the hut.

The heat coming off the fireplace mixed with your heavy breaths, sweating bodies and gluey fluids sticking to your skin. From the outside, they couldn’t see the windows, but now a soft gleam of moonlight crept through the foggy glass, smooching your wet cheeks with a cold light.

Toji’s heavy hand smacked your hips, and he finally pulled off. A sweet string connected his lips to your stretched cunt, and he gave it one last, long and filthy lick, leaving your thighs trembling.

"Let’s try, baby," he mumbled, still oogling the way your drenched hole flapped around nothing. As if desperately needed to swallow something into its desperate clutches. "Sukuna, turn her over. It’s time to stuff our little witch."

They treated you like a rag doll, and you felt no different. Soon, your back hit Sukuna’s chest, and Toji’s hands landed under your thighs, folding you easily like a leaf – with cunt spread open and more of fertile juices coating your folds.

Sukuna’s hands reached to your perked buds, rolling your nipples between his calloused fingers. Maybe it was to send another wave of pleasure down your spine.

But, maybe, he wanted you to focus on something other than Toji taking out his massive cock and positioning it at your entrance. Sukuna’s fat shaft came right from below, smooching your drenched hole in warm, gentle kisses.

"It’s okay, sugar," he murmured into your ear, turning your head away. Fingers pinched your nipple, and another soft moan rolled through, making their hearts swell in ecstasy. "Don’t look there, just focus on me."

Your brows furrowed, and pleasure-blinded eyes tried to trace back, but his heavy hand kept your chin in place. "W-What is it?"

Toji chuckled, seeing your cunt already trying to swallow up their leaking heads. But would you be able to take them both?

Fucking hell, he didn’t know.

"Deep breath, baby," he muttered, covering your trembling clit with his thumb. He rolled it softly, helping your walls loosen up. 

And then slowly, slowly, two massive cocks pushed through the tight ring of your muscles. 

The pain mixed with pleasure, and before a scream rolled from your throat, Toji quickly leaned over. His lips swallowed a sharp cry, and cock pushed even further. 

Sukuna’s fingers kneaded your tits, with fat spilling from between his fingers, while Toji’s thumb worked slowly on your clit. In slow, deep rolls, pinching and pushing the sweet little button that helped their cocks slide deeper. Meaner, smooching and brushing your clasping walls, with their muscles trying to push fat shafts out.

"Sugar, fucking hell, try to relax," Sukuna muttered, feeling his girth get crushed between Toji’s dick and your trembling walls. "You’re doing good, so fucking good, our little witch. Come on, you asked for it."

You did, and maybe that made the matter worse. Because you, in fact, didn’t know what you were getting yourself into.

Not entirely.

Well, not at all, truly.

As you didn’t expect your cunt to burn in such fever, with walls getting brutally stretched by two massive cocks. Their sweet coos made your brain all fuzzy, with sweet little nothings whispered in gentle voices. Hands brushed away strands of hair sticking to your wet cheeks, and fingers kneaded your body with a rough softness, solely to let them get drunk on your melodic moans.

"T-To much–mhmm–that’s too–"

"Shhh," Toji whispered, licking away your tears. "You’ll take it like a good girl. Remember, that’s what you asked for."

Your head shook, and another whimper slipped away when Sukuna’s fingers pinched your nipple. "It’s okay, sugar, just focus on the pleasure. Yeah, that’s good," his hand squeezed your tit, while Toji rolled your clit with his thumb. "Relax, just like that. Fuck, you’re still squeezing us so hard."

"Let us fill you up, baby," Toji cooed with a nasty thrust. Their cocks moved in harmony, with two leaking heads sinking deeper and deeper, till they finally brushed your plump spot and let another moan fill the foggy air. "Can’t wait to see you fat and heavy, just like you wanted," he kissed the corner of your lip, wet cheeks, creased forehead. "And we’ll take such good care of you and little brats. Don’t worry, baby, we’re not going to leave."

At first, you just planned to use them and send them away, but hearing their loving murmurs and hands pulling you closer between their bodies – it seemed that it was impossible.

For neither Sukuna nor Toji planned to leave this sweet little witch, with the most melodic giggle and pussy they were ready to die for.

And if they needed to tie you up not to clear their memories – fucking hell, they were more than eager to do it.

To pump you full during the day and keep you soft and warm at nights.

The pinching pain soon evolved into something sharper – more heavenly, heated, with nerves of your cunt finally sending ripples of ecstasy up to your curling feet.

And they saw it too – a gentle crease appearing on your forehead and eyes crossing in unbearable pleasure. Their lips curved in a sly smile, feeling your hips slowly moving with theirs. With cunt swallowing them deeper and short breaths evolving into pinched moans.

"How do you feel, sugar? How does it feel to have us right in your womb?" Sukuna licked a long stripe of your neck before digging his teeth into your skin. His hand slipped down, pushing a little pouch of your belly. 

You whimpered, feeling his fingers circle their cocks through the plump skin. "S-so good–nghhh–feels sooo good–ahhh."

Their thrusts became faster, harsher, with two plump heads slipping smoothly through your drenched cunt. Soft crackling of a fireplace was soon muffled by filthy squelches coming from your sweating bodies, and crying moans rolling through your lips.

You felt sticky, feverish, bruised, with their cocks kissing your swelling womb and Toji’s body pressing you to Sukuna. He was heavy, with big palms digging into the back of your thighs and chest glued to yours.

"Fuck, baby, look at me," he whispered, and Sukuna squeezed your cheeks, lifting wet cheeks towards another man. "Oh, our sweet little witch, you look so fucked. Already drunk on our cocks, hm? Come on, baby, let’s make you cum."

Your clit burned under his thumb, swelling in overwhelming pleasure. Something warm started to coil in your belly. Although it might as well be their fat shafts sliding through your clenching cunt and bubbling precum at your womb. You could almost feel them in your lungs, heart, throat, and when both men suddenly sped up, something inside you burst. 

You could barely breathe, feeling Sukuna’s chest glued to your back and Toji’s arms curling around your bodies. His face nuzzled into the one side of your neck, while Sukuna dipped into the other, caging your senses with their musky, heavy scent. The one that made your body limp and dissolve into their touch.

Their cocks thrusted faster, meaner, sliding in and out in a messy pace and completly losing the harmony. Sukuna’s head caught on your entrance the moment Toji kissed your womb, and soon you became a crying mess, with lips swelling from their kisses and mind slowly driving away.

"I–I’m so close–mhmmm–gonna cum, I’m g-going to cum–ahhhh," one of your hands slipped into Toji’s hair, the other wandered back to grip Sukuna’s. "P-Please come inside, p-please please please, pump me full."

Something within them snapped, and soon their touch lost any sense of gentleness. No, it evolved into something much more lustful, maddened.

The need to see your body tremble beneath their fingers and feel the spasmatic clamps of your cunt. With honeyed sweet gushing out of your stuffed, reddened hole and walls still stretching under the swelling fatness of their cocks.

"Our pretty girl, milking us fucking dry, clamping on our cocks like a bitch in heat–ngh." Sukuna groaned into your neck, rolling your swollen nipples between his fingers. "Go on, sugar, cum for us, let us make you a mommy."

Emerald eyes caught your gaze, and soon a pair of warm lips crashed, for the hundredth time during this evening, in a messy kiss. "If I knew you ain’t old hag I would–ahh–knock you up sooner," his fingers pressed your clit for the last time, before both of their cocks nuzzled into your womb. 

The long-held warmth finally spilt all over your belly, sending heavy waves of pleasure through your body. Your cunt gushed out in sweet cum, drenching all three of you in liquid honey.

And when they came – you could feel it on your tongue. Fat ropes of cum, stuffing your cunt full till a few droplets spilt out from your swollen hole. Your lower belly rose, with their cocks still smooching your womb softly, coating it in thick, white spurts.

A moment had passed before Toji’s body fully lay down, and you almost fainted. Silence stretched pleasantly, with Sukuna’s fingers brushing away lost strands of your hair and Toji’s cheek lowering down to your chest.

Something pleasant, rather domestic, linked your hearts like a thread, and a long night has passed before you actually slipped away from between their sleeping bodies. 

And somewhere, during those long hours of their touches changing between the gentle caresses and harsh slaps, you decided that maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t clean their memories.

That maybe keeping them close didn’t sound that bad.

Especially as they promised to give you a whole coven of little witches – oh!

©liahcharms all rights reserved. Do not copy, plagiarise, feed AI, translate or modify my works.

I had so so much fun writing it! I really hope you enjoyed this little snippet of my local folklore, although the og story was a bit different...

I got a few requests for Hades!Sukuna so... I'll start working on Hades!Sukuna x Persephone!Reader fic <3

Collection taglist: @silverklaus @cherrys-wrld @buttclencher28 @anothergojostan @sirensdairy @waterisntwetanymoreiam @somekindofcelebrity @prome911 @iridescentshine @venussdovess @classycreationlight @bokenessa @sashabearsstuff @gater-grabber96 @venetiandream @luvducks19 @koreluvsspring @moonlight-inthe-sea @hashahasha @mysicnote @sukunasl-ttywh0re @princesstiti14 @kissthegoatt @chosoismyeverthing @getospuresoul

Your smile got bigger, and he pretended not to notice how easily that worked on him. Eight years, and he still acted as if your face had caught him off guard.

The first year after Shibuya had been the worst. You had arrived on the day he should have died with no past anyone could verify, both hands full of cursed energy and panic, and somehow dragged him to Shoko before death could finish making its case. He survived, but the burns still took his eye. Then you stayed through bandages and fever. From the first time he saw his face, he turned the mirror to the wall. Through every meal, he claimed he could cook for himself and then left it untouched—he had called you a nuisance. You still brought him soup the next mornings.

Now you handed him a plate before he even thought to ask, loaded with rice balls, grilled chicken, and orange slices without the white threads because he hated them. “You remembered,” he muttered as if it still somehow caught him by surprise after eight years.

You gave him a look. “I lived in your apartment for a year to care for you, Kento. I picked up things.”

Across the blanket, Gojo gasped. “He let you live with him? Kento, you slut.”

Nanami turned away. “I’m sitting with Yaga.”

“Yaga’s asleep,” Gojo grinned at Nanami, chucking the man his car keys back.

Nanami caught the car keys, muttered something passive-aggressive, and stomped away to check his tent.

“So,” Shoko turned back to you, red in the face from canned beer. “When are you two going to stop making the rest of us pretend this is friendship?”

Your hand stopped over the salad bowl, and Gojo’s grin went feral with interest. “Oh, this is good.”

“Shoko.”

“What?” Shoko tipped her can toward Nanami, who had come back for something and then gone still behind you. “You saved his life, fed him for a year, planned his every birthday since, and know he gets weird about orange pith. At some point, paperwork should get involved.”

You looked over your shoulder. Nanami glanced back. And for a second, the river was louder than everyone.

Then you turned to the salad and said, “The potatoes are burning.” They were not.

After that the late lunch passed in silence while you both avoided eye contact until Gojo called to take a group picture. “Everyone in,” he grinned, holding his phone too high. “Birthday boy in the middle before he starts pretending he has emails.”

“I do have emails,” Nanami grumbled.

“Your internet is working?” Maki asked.

Nanami did not answer, which was an answer. Then he already started creeping toward the edge of the group when you noticed his hand go to the strap of his eyepatch. You saw it before anyone else did—the way his mouth thinned where the scar tissue pulled from the old, ugly habit of remembering his face existed.

“I’ll take it,” you said, reaching for Gojo’s phone.

Gojo looked offended. “I have the longest arms.”

“You’ll make everyone look short.”

Shoko rubbed Gojo’s pant leg comfortingly because she was drunk enough to show emotions in public.

You ignored Gojo and waved everyone closer. Yuta ducked behind Panda. Yuji shoved Nobara’s elbow out of his ribs. Inumaki held up two rice balls like peace signs. Shoko stayed seated with her beer and lifted two fingers without moving. And the rest awkwardly gathered around. While Nanami tried to stand behind you.

You looked over your shoulder. “Kento.”

He stopped.

“Come here.”

His mouth shifted, almost not at all, but you knew that almost. You had known it in hospital rooms, in pharmacy aisles, and in his bathroom when he turned the mirror to face the wall and told you he did not need help shaving. But you never told him to smile or that he looked fine, nor did you tilt his face toward the unscarred side or pretend the scarred side was not there.

Nanami was too proud a man for those things.

He stepped closer, looking at you, maybe in a warning or a plea not to make a thing of it. So you didn’t and took the phone, herded everyone into place, and, when Nanami tried to stand at the edge, said, “Kento, hold this.” And handed him the paper plate with the two skewers on it.

He frowned. “Why?”

“Because if Gojo holds it, he’ll eat them.”

“I’m not a big back,” Gojo said, already chewing.

Nanami took the plate because it gave his hands somewhere to be and confused him enough to get distracted from his body.

“Fine, fine,” Gojo said, lifting the phone higher. “Everyone act like you like each other.”

“I don’t act,” Maki declared.

“That’s why we cherish you, Kiki-chan.”

Maki’s hand immediately lunged to yank Gojo’s hair back.

You only stepped beside Nanami when the others crowded in, your shoulder brushing his arm as it had in hospital corridors, Jujutsu Tech halls, his kitchen at three in the morning, and every quiet place where he had tried to become awful so you’d leave him alone but failed because you kept coming back with groceries. “Ready?”

Nanami looked down at you, and for one second, his face shifted again—less alone, maybe. “Yes,” he answered. Then he turned his head at the last second because you chuckled when Shoko pinched Gojo’s cheeks—your eyes bright, one hand caught at Nanami’s sleeve, like you had done it without thinking.

The shutter clicked.

The picture happened in the middle of everyone laughing, talking, or yelling.

When you lowered the phone, Gojo took it back, glanced at the screen, and said, much softer than usual, “Oh.”

Nanami reached for the phone thinking Gojo was about to make fun of him. But then he saw the picture and realized he was not looking at the camera at all. Not even facing it.

He was looking at you.

The angle had hidden most of the eyepatch from view. His face was turned far enough that the scarred side fell into shadow, but that was the first thing his mind usually reached for, out of habit since Shibuya.

Then he followed his gaze in the picture and saw you.

You were smiling like the whole noisy riverside had narrowed to the space between your hand on his sleeve and his shoulder beside yours without any careful softness meant to spare him. Instead it was happiness, plain and unguarded—caught before either of you could hide it.

Nanami stared too long, and Gojo, for once, did not ruin it.

You too leaned closer, looking at the screen. “Oh.”

Nanami’s thumb squeezed against the edge of the phone.

“I look ridiculous,” you said, staring at something else.

“No,” he answered, too quickly.

You looked up at him.

His ears were faintly red. “You look…” He stopped. Everyone was still close enough to hear, and dignity was a habit even when it no longer saved him.

Gojo’s grin started spreading menicingly.

Nanami locked the phone and handed it back. “Send that to me.”

Gojo’s eyebrows climbed. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting.”

Shoko slapped his arm. “Satoru.” And Nanami thought she would be the voice of reason, but he’d forgotten the woman was drunk. “Let him do the Fushiguro thing in peace.”

Megumi looked up from where Yuji was showing him the backup photo his phone had taken from where it was propped against the cooler. “What thing?”

Gojo’s grin changed targets with speed. “Oh, you don’t know?”

Nanami had never been happier for Gojo’s lack of attention span.

Yuji zoomed in the picture on his phone before Megumi. And low and behold, in the corner of the photo, Megumi was looking at Yuji.

It wasn’t near him or past him but directly at him, with a small smile he clearly had no memory of making.

Nobara leaned over Yuji’s shoulder and made a noise of pure disgusted delight. “Oh, that’s embarrassing.”

“It was an accident,” Megumi snapped, snatching the phone away.

“You do this in every picture,” Panda laughed.

“I do not.”

Inumaki, already scrolling, turned his own phone around to show an old photo from their trip to Osaka.

Megumi lunged for it too, but Gojo caught the back of his shirt without even looking.

Yuji smiled traitorously. “You stare at me?”

“I was checking your surroundings.”

“By staring at my sleeping face in a locked train compartment?”

Megumi went red to the ears and tried to get Inumaki again. “Give me the phone.”

Gojo, delighted, lifted it out of reach.

Yuji leaned into Megumi’s shoulder, warm and shameless. “That’s cute.”

Megumi flicked the back of his head. “It’s not.”

Yuji rubbed the back of his own head but continued to grin dumbly.

Megumi covered Yuji’s face with one hand. “I’m going to kill all of you.”

“I’m sending it,” Gojo said to Nanami, still grinning, but he did not say anything else about the way Nanami had looked at you.

Your phone buzzed first. Then Nanami’s.

---

After dinner and the cake—which had been cut badly by Gojo while he was trying to get the biggest piece for himself and fixed by Maki’s blade—was eaten, everyone spread out. Nobara and Maki vanished into the woods with one lantern and two blankets. Shoko drank by the fire, her feet in Gojo’s lap while he massaged them and argued with her about the terms of their bet. Ijichi snored in a chair. Panda and Yaga were talking over roasted marshmallows. Inumaki and Yuta were catching fish in the dark with too much confidence. Far down the river, Yuji walked with Megumi, their shoulders bumping.

“Sensei’s sitting alone again,” Yuji said, nodding toward you by the water.

Megumi followed his gaze. “Nanami-san will go.”

“You think?”

“He has been watching her for twenty minutes.”

Yuji grinned. “They’re so married for people who say, ‘we’re just friends.’”

Megumi shoved his hands in his pockets. “He looks at her a lot.”

“She knows how he takes his coffee and practically everything he likes and dislikes.”

“He keeps pain medicine in his office for her cramps. Asked me to fetch it last time.”

“You know she bought him that ugly beige camping mug.”

Megumi’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t look at Yuji when his arm slid around his waist casually. “He says it was a practical gift.”

Yuji laughed and leaned into Megumi’s side. “The man is down bad in business casual.”

“You would know,” Megumi mildly smirked.

Yuji’s grin widened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re holding my waist while saying that, so it’s not nothing.”

Megumi looked away toward the river, where the lantern light caught the scars cutting across his own face: one near his left temple and eye, the other paler on the opposite side, half-lost when he ducked his head. “You were walking too close to the water.”

Yuji looked delighted by this.

Megumi’s hand tightened once at his side before Yuji could start testing him. “Shut up.”

Farther downriver, Yuta lifted the lantern higher while Inumaki crouched near the bank, one sleeve pinned and empty where his other arm used to be. The light caught the stitches across Yuta’s forehead when he bent too close, watching Inumaki’s face again instead of the water.

“Salmon,” Inumaki warned without looking up.

Yuta straightened immediately. “Right. Sorry.”

Inumaki glanced back at him, eyes soft above his collar, then pointed at the river like Yuta had been the one scaring the tiny fish away.

Yuji followed Megumi’s gaze and smiled softer this time. “Everyone’s kind of obvious tonight.”

Megumi huffed a small laugh. “You’re one to talk.”

“Huh?”

“You were staring at me in the picture too.”

“I can admit that…" Yuji’s grin went soft around the scar cutting through his lip. “Maybe I like looking at you.”

Megumi looked away first, jaw working like he wanted to argue and couldn’t find anything worth saying. The distant lantern light caught the scars near his left temple and eye before he leaned in closer, his hand moving lower on Yuji’s waist. “Shut up,” he muttered, eyes dropping to Yuji’s mouth as he dragged him closer. “Come here.”

Yuji’s hands fisted in Megumi’s hoodie as he glanced back toward camp. “What if someone sees?”

“We’re not fifteen anymore,” Megumi whispered near his ear, moving Yuji’s face back toward him with a careful hand. “And everybody here has seen far worse things than grown adults kissing.”

Yuji laughed under his breath, his breath warm against Megumi’s mouth. “That’s true.”

Megumi pushed him back against the nearest tree to get them out of the path where the firelight could reach. His hand slipped under the hem of Yuji’s hoodie and settled burning at his waist.

Yuji stayed still for half a breath.

Megumi felt it because he’d trained himself to trace the tiny delay before Yuji remembered where he was. The way his body sometimes braced for bad things before his mind caught up, like some old part of him was still waiting for another voice in his head.

Megumi’s thumb tapped into his skin.

Yuji continued to stare at nothing.

Megumi rubbed his skin again, gentler, and Yuji’s shoulders loosened. “Sorry,” he murmured.

“Don’t be.”

Yuji looked at him.

“Don’t apologize for that,” Megumi said, with his eyes dropping briefly to the scar through Yuji’s lip before returning to his face. “Just stay here.”

Yuji’s smile came back. “Bossy.”

“Yeah.” His hand stayed where it was, and for a second, Megumi thought about the stupid unfairness of it. Nanami could give someone things and call it practical. Gojo could make a public nuisance of himself with Shoko and somehow still have the world bend around it. But what Megumi wanted with Yuji, something with same surnames, still had to be phrased around loopholes, paperwork, and whichever court felt generous enough to recognize it.

He would still ask anyway.

Just not tonight. Tonight was someone else's.

But Megumi would ask soon. And Yuji would make some awful noise when he realized. Might laugh first, then cry after, then ask, ‘Are you sure?’ Like Fushiguro Megumi hadn’t built his whole life around being sure of very few things, and selfishly choosing Itadori Yuji every day wasn’t always going to be top of them.

Megumi hooked his thumb in Yuji’s belt loop, keeping him close. “Besides,” he said, lower now, eyes dropping to Yuji’s mouth, “it’s easier to appreciate you in the dark.”

Yuji’s smile got warmer. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Megumi muttered, having difficulty taking his eyes off Yuji’s lips. “Oh.”

Yuji’s gaze flicked once toward the firelight, then back to him. “You gonna use your technique, bro?”

“Don’t—” Megumi’s ears went red, but he knew to suppress his reaction because he knew that Yuji said dumb things when flustered or nervous or excited—pretty much all the time. “Don’t make it sound weird.”

“You’re the one who said it.”

“I meant so no one sees you panic every time someone walks past.”

Yuji’s smile softened at the edges.

“And yeah,” Megumi’s other thumb brushed against Yuji’s lips and his scar, and he added, quieter. “Only if you want.”

Yuji stared at his mouth and at the broader line of Megumi’s shoulders, where he crowded him against the tree without actually pinning him there. “Yeah,” it came easily, his breath catching around the word. “I—ah—want you to.”

The shadow at Megumi’s feet started to gather around them, darkening the space between the tree and the river until the campfire disappeared into a dark blur through the leaves.

Yuji let out a small, nervous laugh. “That’s kind of hot.”

Megumi closed his eyes and kissed him before Yuji could make the moment difficult by being sweet.

Yuji wrapped both arms around him because Yuji had never learned how to accept small things from Megumi without giving his whole body back.

---

Back by the river, you sat with your feet near the water, your lantern beside you. The paper plate on your lap held a slice of cake you had barely touched.

Nanami stopped beside you. “May I sit?”

“It’s your day.” You smiled up at him.

“I was told I’m allowed very little free will today.”

“That’s because you were trying to ditch your own birthday party.” You moved your plate, and he sat on the grass with a careful breath. His knee clicked. You reached into the bag beside you to hand him the small cushion you had packed.

He stared at it.

“For your knee,” you told him. “Take it before I throw it at you.”

He took it, and for a while, you both just watched the river pull silver lines around the stones.

“I heard Shoko,” he murmured.

“I figured.”

“I should have answered.”

You picked at the cake with your fork. “You don’t owe people an answer about me.”

“I owe you one.”

Your hand stilled for half a second before going back to picking at the cake.

Nanami looked down at his plate, keeping his scarred side half out of the lantern light.

“I wanted to spend today alone. That was the plan. A quiet mountain cabin. Sandwich from a shop. A book I would barely read.”

You nodded.

“Then you sent a list of food. A map. A reminder about sunscreen. Then seven messages about whether I could still eat spicy sauce.”

“You can’t.”

“I can. It just comes with regret.” His mouth curved a little.

Then he sighed. “I was annoyed. Then I looked forward to it all week.”

Your throat worked around a small laugh that came out thin. “You’re bad at gratitude.”

“I’m worse at friendship, apparently.”

You finally looked at him. He met your eyes, and this time he didn’t look away first. “You were there when I was hard to be near. Then I made it harder. I knew you would come back, so I let myself be careless with your feelings.”

Your fork dug into the cake because you didn’t know what to say to that. Some small part of you tried to make sense of it before you could hope. Pity, obligation, eight years of habit, his loneliness finding the nearest person who already knew where the medicine was kept.

Then Nanami reached into his jacket, pulled out a small box wrapped in brown paper and tied with kitchen string, and handed it to you. “I bought this months ago,” he whispered. “Just kept waiting for a dignified moment.”

You opened it.

A key sat inside, along with a tiny wooden tag carved with your name.

Your breath caught and you looked up at him. “Is this because you feel responsible for me?”

His answer came too fast to be polite. “No.”

Then he lowered his voice. “I would like you to come home.” His voice roughened at the edges. “As mine. In whatever order you can accept. Girlfriend first, if that is easier. Partner. Wife, someday, if you can forgive the delay. If you still want that after we learn how to stop pretending.”

Your palm pressed to your mouth.

He looked alarmed. “Was that too much?”

You laughed into your palm. “Kento, you gave me a house key as a birthday gift on your birthday.”

“It seemed practical.”

“You are so stupid.”

“Yes,” he smiled, softer now. “I am aware.”

You leaned over and kissed the scarred side of his mouth before he could brace for it, his skin warm against your lips.

Behind you, from across the camp, Gojo screamed, “PAY UP, SHOKO!”

You smiled against him.

He sighed, warm and beaten. “I should have invited you to the mountains.” His hand closed over yours, and he kept the key pressed between both your palms.

Gojo’s voice carried across the camp again, loud enough to make bats startle somewhere in the trees. “SHOKO, YOU CAN’T CHANGE THE TERMS AFTER THE KISS. MY SIX EYES CONFIRMED IT.”

“I can do whatever I want,” Shoko called back, flat and drunk. “Your first choice is dead.”

The camp went still for half a second.

Then Gojo shouted, “Take that back.”

“I meant I’m the only doctor you idiots have.”

“WE HAVE MY GOOD STUDENT YUTA NOW.”

Yuta immediately grabbed Inumaki’s sleeve and started dragging him farther downriver.

“I did surgery on him. And you. I’m superior.”

“YAGA, SHE’S BULLYING ME AGAIN.”

Nanami closed his eye. “Ignore them.”

You laughed softly, and the sound made his hand tighten around yours. You were still too close to him, leaving small pecks against the scarred side of his lips. The little wooden tag pressed into your palm, your name carved into it like a promise. “Kento.”

“Yes?” He hummed.

“I’d like to come home with you.”

He went still.

You looked down at your joined hands because saying it while looking at his face would have made your voice crack. “Not tonight. I mean, obviously, but I mean properly. I want to move in. I want to start dating. I want…”

Nanami’s face changed slowly, like watching the door open after standing outside with his hand raised for years. “Girlfriend first,” he added, quieter.

You nodded.

“Partner when you are ready.”

You looked up at him. “I’m not the only one who has to be ready.”

He lowered his gaze, thumb moving over your knuckles, careful around the key. “I have been ready in undignified ways for some time.”

Your smile broadened. “That might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He gave you half a smile. “Hope it’s not the last. I intend to do better.”

“You’d better.”

He looked toward the river because smiling at you too openly still cost him.

You remembered his face before Shibuya only in fragments now: old photographs, mission reports.

This was the face you knew better. “I do need time,” you admitted. “For the move, I mean. I have things at my apartment, clothes, books, souvenirs, the kettle you said was a fire hazard.”

“It was a fire hazard.”

You smiled down at the key. “I’ll bring the kettle last.”

“I will dispose of it humanely.”

You slapped his arm lightly. “You will not.”

“I will hire someone.” He sounded like he was going to get someone from the dark web.

“Kento.”

His mouth curved, small so that nobody across the camp would have noticed. You did because you had always noticed him in the margins.

He glanced down at your plate. “You did not eat your cake.”

“I got proposed to by a man who doesn’t know if he asked me to be his girlfriend or his wife. I don’t care about the cake right now.”

His expression sharpened with immediate concern. “Do you want something else?”

“No. I’m teasing you.”

“I still need an answer.”

You loved him for that. In his dry insistence, he could be given a kiss, a key accepted, and a future placed in his hand and still worry about your blood sugar before his own feelings. “I’m okay,” you answered. “Just tired.”

That, he believed. Then he stood with effort, offered you his hand, and you let him pull you up. His knee bothered him. You knew the exact stiffness in his jaw that meant it had started to ache.

“You should go back. Before Gojo remembers he has lungs and yells again.”

“He never forgets.”

“No. He simply uses them irresponsibly.”

He walked you back through the camp slowly. The fire had sunk low. Shoko was laughing at something Gojo was saying too close to her ear, her cheeks flushed from beer, one hand resting on the back of his neck as if she’d put it there to keep him from running off into the dark. Yaga and Ijichi had already retreated to their tents on the far end of the site. Panda lay outside his father’s tent with one paw over his face, asleep under the stars with a plushy like a log and snoring as one.

You saw Nanami notice all of it.

Nobara and Maki had not come back. Neither had Megumi and Yuji. Inumaki and Yuta were still missing somewhere downriver with the lantern and the knife, which you chose not to examine too closely.

At your tent, Nanami stopped. The zipper was halfway open. Inside, your blanket had been kicked into a pile, your overnight bag still unlatched, clothes spilling out because Nobara had insisted she could style you for glamping and then abandoned the project the second Maki called her name.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Nanami told you.

“You’re not going to make sure I’m zipped inside so a bear won't attack me at night?”

“There are no bears here.”

“You looked up bears before coming here?”

“I know you would have.”

“Touché,” you said, stepping into the tent. “Good night, boyfriend.”

The word sank in him for the first time.

He stood there for half a second longer than necessary, his expression caught inside something softer. Then he bowed his head once, because Nanami Kento had no available defense against being called yours except good manners.

“Good night,” he repeated, lower this time. Then he walked back to his tent with red ears.

You waited until his silhouette disappeared past the fire before you looked at the key again.

You did not sleep but lay on your back under the thin blanket, phone held above your face, the key box sitting on your stomach because you just couldn't put it away tonight.

Outside, the river moved, leaves shifted, someone’s tent zipper caught, and bamboo wind chimes knocked softly near the picnic shelter.

You opened your messages.

You: I should probably ask what your move-in requirements are before I accidentally bring the fire-hazard kettle.

His reply came so fast that your chest warmed.

Kento: The kettle is not entering my home.

You: Is it not mine?

There was a pause long enough for you to worry you had made it too much too fast, even though it had been eight years.

Then his typing bubble appeared.

Kento: Our home. The kettle is still not entering it.

You covered your mouth with your hand.

You: Cruel landlord.

Kento: Boyfriend. Possibly partner. Future husband, if I do not lose the position over fire safety.

You stared at the message until the letters blurred at the edges.

Outside, Gojo laughed somewhere, quieter than usual. Shoko told him to shut up in a voice that had no real conviction behind it.

You: You’re very confident about future husband.

Kento: I have been accused of waiting too long. I am correcting the record.

You: By proposing an entire life on your birthday.

Kento: It seemed practical. I deserved a gift, and you deserved something permanent for planning this day and everything before it.

You: I’m going to bite you.

Kento: That is not a logistical concern.

The squeal you made into your blanket was embarrassing and muffled. You rolled onto your side, holding the phone close to your face.

You: I keep thinking I’ll wake up and you’ll decide this was fever brain.

Kento: I am not feverish.

You: The key is beautiful, and my name carved into it looks good.

Kento: I had a professional do that. (It was Megumi.)

You realized he didn't want anyone to spoil it.

You: That makes it sweet, actually.

Kento: I am aware.

The next message came after a long moment of his typing bubble appearing and disappearing and reappearing.

Kento: I wanted you to have something that could not be mistaken.

Your throat tightened. All the noise outside seemed to move further away. Even the river sounded softer from inside the tent.

You: Kento.

Kento: You have had very little permanence since you came here.

You stopped breathing for a second.

Kento: No family records or household. No one to call if something went wrong who belonged to you before this world took you in. You have made a life anyway. I know that. I am proud of that. But I wanted you to have a door that opened because your name belonged there.

You pressed the phone to your chest and stared at the dark fabric of the tent roof.

Untethered.

You hated that word. It made drifting sound graceful.

Gojo and Ijichi had made you legal enough for payroll, rent, hospital forms, and mission reports, but none of it reached backward. There were still blank spaces where parents should have gone. No childhood address. No family name that meant anything here. No one who could say what you were like before this world took you in.

You had caught yourself envying the students for ugly things: clan fights, dead relatives, living relatives, inheritance arguments, grief with names attached. At least someone had known them before.

Jujutsu Tech gave you a file. Shoko gave you headache medicine before you asked. Gojo bought things you never requested and called it community support. The others made room for you without making speeches.

And Kento.

Kento with the second phone charger he pretended came in a pack of two. Kento whose apartment had become the only place your body slept properly. And now he was saying your name belonged on the door.

You typed and deleted six different replies.

You: I don’t know how to say what that means to me without sounding pathetic.

Kento: You have listened to me say “girlfriend first, partner, wife someday” beside a river. I no longer have grounds to judge anyone’s process.

You laughed, but it broke halfway into a few tears.

You: I didn’t think I’d get to be someone’s family officially here. I know that sounds stupid because people choose each other all the time, but I didn’t think it would happen to me. Especially not with someone who knows I drink coffee like it counts as water.

Kento: It does not.

You: I’m being vulnerable. You can be nice.

Kento: You are. I am keeping you grounded.

You: By attacking my coffee?

Kento: By reminding you that I know it.

You blinked hard, looking for the right emoji to express your distaste.

Kento: When you first appeared, I was suspicious of you.

You: Romantic.

Kento: You had no file, no verifiable history, and enough cursed energy to drag a half-dead man out of Mahito’s grasp. Suspicion seemed reasonable.

You: Still romantic.

Kento: I was also afraid you would disappear the same way you arrived.

You did not know what to say to that.

Kento: I expected someone to explain you eventually as a curse, technique, or a temporary consequence of some larger cruelty. I thought if I became too accustomed to you, the world would correct itself and take you back.

Your fingers hovered above the keyboard.

Kento: Then you stayed. Argued with my pharmacist, replaced the mirror I turned to the wall with one too small for me to avoid entirely. You even left soup at my door after I called you a nuisance. You became domestic before I was ready for you to be irreplaceable.

The tent blurred. You wiped at your face with the heel of your hand and nearly dropped the phone.

You: You can’t say things like this over text.

Kento: I can say them outside your tent if you would prefer.

Your whole body went warm.

You: Oh lord no.

Kento: Understood.

You: I mean yes? Or no. I mean I’m wearing an old shirt and crying.

Kento: I have seen worse.

You: You are so bad at this.

Kento: Noted. I will improve.

You smiled into the dark. Then his next message came.

Kento: If things become too dangerous again, I need you to understand something.

You sat up.

Kento: I will not let Jujutsu society decide what happens to you. I have given enough of my life to institutions that eat people and call it duty. If the choice is between staying and keeping you safe, I will take you and leave.

You reread that message, a mix of emotions swirling inside you and choking in your throat.

You: You mean that?

Kento: Yes.

You: But you love your work.

Kento: I love being able to help where I can. That is not the same thing.

You: And if I say I don’t want you giving everything up for me?

Kento: Then we will discuss it like adults. And I will still keep the car maintained.

It was just so like him, devotion inside an emergency plan.

You were still staring at the message when another sound came from outside.

At first, Nanami ignored it.

In his own tent, sitting upright with his back against a rolled sleeping bag because lying down had proved useless, he heard canvas shift from the direction of Gojo’s tent and assumed the man was awake.

Which was not unusual. Satoru rarely slept like other people. Three hours, sometimes less, then he would wander the halls of the school or appear in kitchens, bright-eyed and awake past reason, eating someone else’s food and pretending insomnia was a lifestyle choice.

Nanami typed another message, thumb moving carefully.

Kento: For clarity, I am not planning to take your choice away. I am saying you have one with me now. If something like Shibuya happens. If we need to leave, we leave together.

The shuffling continued. A soft thump. A rustle. Then something like a hand catching against tent fabric.

Nanami paused. Then resumed typing because whatever Gojo Satoru did at night was between him, God, and the nearest vending machine.

Kento: I should have told you earlier. Years ago.

A muffled laugh came from the other tent.

Shoko’s.

Nanami’s typing slowed. Another rustle followed, lower this time, rhythmic enough that his mind and his technique, traitorous and precise, started assembling possibilities he did not want.

No. Absolutely not.

Satoru would not.

Nanami stared at the wall of his tent.

Then a muffled sentence came through canvas and night air, Satoru’s voice far too pleased with itself to be mistaken for sleep talking.

Nanami closed his eye. And for several seconds, he sat very still.

Satoru wouldn't do that. Wouldn't traumatize his students like that, would he?

And there were students nearby.

Former students, yes. Grown adults now, all of them old enough to drink, vote, kill curses, and make bad decisions in forests. But still. They had been children once. Children Satoru had bequeathed and taught. Children Nanami had, against his will and better judgment, worried about.

Except Nobara and Maki had disappeared into the trees hours ago. Megumi and Yuji had walked off in opposite direction around the same time—even their cursed energies weren't within a detectable radius now. Inumaki and Yuta had not returned from whatever fishing ritual required one knife and an alarming amount of staring contest. Panda slept like a boulder on the other side of camp. Yaga slept like a dead man with a pension. Ijichi slept like a person who had spent fifteen years being emotionally waterboarded by Gojo Satoru and could sleep through artillery if it meant nobody needed him.

So Satoru was traumatizing no one he cared about except Nanami.

Oh, but wait… Ijichi.

Nanami’s eye opened. That was it, wasn't it?

Satoru had pointed out, years ago to Kento, the way Ijichi hovered around Shoko with the doomed attentiveness of a man bringing coffee to a woman miles out of his league. Had mocked him for it, interfered with it, sabotaged it, and once bought him a book on “assertive romantic communication” that Ijichi had accepted with both hands and visible despair. The book contained the worst possible advice, such as shaving your head made you more aerodynamic for dates.

That was not poor judgment.

It was Satoru declaring territory.

Nanami put on his headphones. Then his gaze dropped to his phone.

You were in the tent near his—awake, emotional, and his to care for. And you could probably hear this. His thumb moved before he had fully decided.

Kento: Pack your bag.

Your reply came quickly.

You: what

Kento: Quietly. Ten minutes. Meet me just outside the campsite entrance.

You: Kento what happened

He glanced toward the canvas wall as another sound reached him.

Kento: Satoru.

A momentary pause.

You: oh my god

Kento: Yes.

You: shoko?????

Kento: Unfortunately.

You: is everyone else asleep

Kento: Gone, asleep, or morally unreachable.

You: what does morally unreachable mean?

Kento: Panda.

You: Kento I can’t just flee a campsite because Gojo and Shoko are having sex

Kento: I can. Pack.

You were outside in eight minutes after having packed so quickly that even your bag was zipped wrong and your hair had come loose around your face.

Nanami was already waiting near the entrance sign with his overnight bag in one hand. His hair was mussed from where he had dragged his fingers through it, and his eyepatch strap sat a little crooked. He looked you over once, checking that you had your shoes, your bag, yourself, then said, “My car is nearby. There is a hotel ten minutes from here. We will return in the morning.”

You followed him to the car. He opened the passenger door for you, and you hid a smile because he had always done that, even before tonight, even when he could still pretend it was only manners. Now the same small gesture felt claimed. He shut the door once you were inside, walked around to the driver’s side, and started the engine.

Neither of you spoke for the first few minutes of the drive. The road out of the campsite was narrow and dark, trees pressing close on either side. Nanami drove with one hand on the wheel, his profile lit by the dashboard glow. The eyepatch hid one side of him. The scars caught in uneven lines. You watched his hand shift, steady on the gear, and remembered the way it had held yours around the key. Halfway to the hotel, his expression changed.

“What?” you asked.

He looked horrified. “Have you been drinking?”

You stared. “What?”

“At the camp. Shoko was giving everyone beer. Gojo had that terrible sweet alcohol. You were emotional. I should have asked before taking you anywhere.”

“I had half a canned peach thing four hours ago.”

His jaw tightened. “That is not an answer.”

“It was barely alcohol.”

“That is also not an answer.”

“Kento, I am not drunk.”

“You were crying.”

“Forgive a girl for being emotional after pining after a guy for eight years then suddenly being pulled out of the friend zone.”

He opened his mouth. “That was not—" Then he realized better and closed it. His grip eased slightly on the wheel, and he tried again. “That was not intended to impair judgment.”

“Well, it did.”

“Then I shouldn’t have sent the texts.”

“I didn’t say that.” You leaned your head against the window, smiling despite the ache in your chest. “I’m sober. Just feeling happy because you accidentally became my whole life and then asked me that we could stop pretending.”

He swallowed. The car stayed very quiet after that.

At the hotel, Nanami carried both bags, and you let him because arguing with him in the lobby would have turned him into stone.

The receptionist looked at the two of you—your rumpled clothes, his serious face, the bags, the hour—and made a decision behind her polite smile.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “We only have one room available.”

Tumblr is so annoying sometimes, won't let me post all in one.

Taglist: @maplewood-valley @moruteloli

Part 2 [NSFW] | Masterlist | Prequel

“What a loser,” Sukuna grumbles as he re-enters, rubbing his reddening knuckles and surveying the damage to the front door. Biceps flexing in the stretched-thin cotton as he lifted up the frame and started trying to fruitlessly fix the damage he’d caused.

“What the fuck are you—”

“Got out on good behavior,” your soon-to-be ex-husband cuts you off, glancing sidelong at you in something almost like an apology for doing so. Finally giving up on fixing the door right then and propping it up against the front of the house and coming inside, making sure to wipe his boots at the door and shuck them off, nudging it closed softly rather than the usual thump and clatter. “Gonna cook dinner. What are you in the mood for?”

“Are you serious?” you huff, swivelling on the ball of your foot to stomp towards the phone, the baseball bat tucked beneath the sofa, anything to send him packing. “I want you out of this house. I can’t believe you think you can just waltz back in here and throw him out like that, you must be out of your fucking mind—”

Before you can reach either option, he’s behind you in a single step, thick arms looping around your waist and bringing you back until you’re flush to his chest, Sukuna’s entire body bends over yours, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. The heat of his body envelops yours, so familiar that you can’t help but find yourself almost leaning back into him, heart craving the touch of your other half even as your mind reminds you of all his wrongdoings.

“I said I was sorry, woman,” he mumbles against you, his strong, sturdy nose gliding along the curve of your shoulder to your neck, brushing all the way up to gently nibble the shell of your ear. 

You scoff. “No, you didn’t.”

“No? Hm. Could’ve sworn I did,” Sukuna frowns, that handsome set of full lips brushing kisses to your hair. He hums in thought. “Ah, I know- maybe it was the shock of seeing my darling girl letting some white-haired wimp in our home.”

He slips a hand from your hip, tracing the soft curve of your waist and following it past your navel, four large, thick fingers spreading to cup your mound. Under different circumstances, you might’ve argued a little longer, but… well. 

Of all the flaws Sukuna had, you knew he certainly didn’t have any issues making up for them tenfold with the amount of pleasure he could give you.

“Letting him touch her…”

Sukuna’s fingers push beneath the hem of your dress. Teasing the lace you’d worn for your date, he grunts in displeasure at the idea that you’d even wear it to begin with for another man, prying it aside and smearing his thumpad in rough, firm circles over your clit.

It was almost embarrassing how soaked you were already. Strings of webby slick dripping onto his skin as his other fingers inch lower, spreading and teasing your wet folds just to pat a couple harsh slaps to your fluttering hole. A shiver of pleasure rolls up your spine, knees weak and trembling just from the contact, held up just by Sukuna’s bulky arm beneath your midsection while he continues to rub and flick your clit.

Lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice roughens, warm breath coming out in soft puffs that tickle the sensitive skin. “Did he fuck my wife, too?”

Your pussy clenches shamefully, but you still dig your heels in for a little longer. It was the least you could do to get back at him for all the stress he’d put you through. “That was the plan for tonight.”

“Tch.”

Before you can even think to question what that meant, he’s pushing you forward and bending you over the back of the sofa, one palm pressing against your back while the other works on his belt. Snapping open the metal clasp and tugging the leather strip from the beltloops just to toss it aside, letting it clatter to the floor uselessly.

“You should’ve called me,” Sukuna grumbles, his hips rocking forward against your ass, the very prominent bulge in his jeans grinding between the plush of your thighs, the cold zipper sending a wave of chills through your swollen folds and up your spine. 

“Kid looked like a two-pump chump,” he adds on jealously. “He wouldn’t have been able to take care of you.”

Your hands bunch the couch pillows, rocking back against him now despite every rational thought telling you not to. What would your attorney think, seeing you back with the man you’d sworn off so little months ago?

“Mmmh. Not like you could do any better from the jailhouse.”

Sukuna scoffs. “What do you think I was doing while I was locked up, woman?”

“Clearly not learning any lessons,” you retort just as quickly.

His fat fingers slap down on your puffy cunt again, earning another spasm of your body as a gush of syrupy slick leaves your slit. “Don’t smart mouth me.”

You shiver, giving into his conversation demands. “Fine. What were you doing?”

He leans back just long enough to unzip his jeans and push them down, one fist wrapping around his base and tugging on the shaft a few times before finally lining himself up to your velvet entrance. Rubbing along your slit and between your folds, pushing just past the first ring of resistance and stretching you open around a size you’d once been able to accommodate with ease.

Distance certainly made something fonder.

“Thinking about you,” your ex-husband murmurs behind you, slowly pushing in still. Taking his sweet time filling you back out again and letting you acclimate to his sheer size. “Of all the mistakes I’d made, and h-how- ohh..”

“Did you just stutter?” you blurt in surprise, trying to lift yourself up a little and peek over your shoulder, just to have your head pushed right back into the couch. Only getting the slightest peek at how Sukuna’s cheeks and ears were dusted with a bright red that rivalled the pinkest hues of his hair. “Oh- oh.”

Lightning scatters across your body as he finally shoves forward and glides his cock home with a wet schhhlick sound, his thick fingers pinching and playing with your clit to ease the overwhelming burn. Grinding the fat head of his cock up against your innermost walls, he gives you a few seconds to adjust, grunting when you tighten up on him instead.

“Five months, three weeks, and six days,” Sukuna recounts in a huff. “That’s how long I sat in  that rusted ol’ cell. Couldn’t think straight, couldn’t live without you. And here you are, letting some other man come into our home and think he has a chance with my wife.”

His thumb presses on your swollen pearl and swirls. “Did you really think he’d be able to take care of you the way I did?”

“Nngh- no.”

“Thought not.”

You barely choke out a moan before he pulls back and shoves forward again, immediately setting a rhythm you have no hopes of following. Adjusting his hands to grip on either side of your hips and bouncing you up and down his length, his body folding forward until his chest pressed down on your back.

“Would he handle all your bitch-fits?” Sukuna pants into your ear, voice all husky and rough at the edges. “Let you crawl all over him afterwards like an animal in heat?”

“M-maybe,” you huff. Reaching over your shoulder just to grab a handful of his hair and tug, earning a loud groan from your other half. “Should call him back and ask him.”

Sukuna scoffs. “Hah.. funny. You’ve got jokes now, huh?”

“Had a lot of time to practice,” you retort, the thin thread holding your sanity together already starting to fray under his mean, steady strokes. “What was it again? Five months, three weeks, and…?”

“Six days,” he grunts.

“Right.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Sukuna’s lips plant messy kisses along your shoulder, hips picking up the pace as your walls constrict around him. Spreading his fingers between your folds and swirling his callused fingerpads in rough patterns over your needy clit to drive you to the edge. “I’ll do better.”

You moan into the couch cushion as he fucks you right over the precipice, every thrust punching the air from your lungs. His heavy balls smack against your clit as you squeeze around him, gushing out a wave of release that slicks over his thick cock and drips onto the floor beneath you.

Sukuna’s hand lifts from your hip to grab your hand, twisting his own until your fingers are intertwined with his. Wrapping himself around you tight as his hips stutter and broken rasps of your name escape his lips, thrusts turning sloppy as spurts of cum flood your cunt and paint your inner walls milky white.

“Please,” Sukuna pleads, almost whining as his hips stir the mess around, refusing to pull out yet. The scratch of his five o’clock shadow rubbing up against your cheek as he turns your face to look at him, dark eyes molten with an honest, unabashed adoration. “Give me one more chance.”

You twist in his arms, the angle clumsy and awkward, just to meet him for a quick peck that deepened quickly, pulling back out of breath and licking his spit off your lips.

“One more,” you concede with a sigh, watching as his entire demeanor lit up. “If you fuck up again, you’re gone for good, Ryomen. I’m serious this time.”

“Mmh. I won’t. Promise.”