Stargirl

Bent stupidly over your boss’s cold mahogany desk as small piles of paperwork go fluttering over its edge, there you were fulfilling the unspoken requirement of your job as an assistant. With a fat cockhead sloppily kissing the inner depths of your sweet cunt and your tongue lolling out of your mouth as you found yourself drunk off of the mean thrusts you’re being gifted with, you were assisting your boss with something alright.

Now, this wasn’t exactly how you planned for this morning to go buuut, one thing led to another and now you’re here anyway.

Babbled throaty attempts of his name escaped you as your glossy eyes traveled to the back of your skull in pure fucked-out ecstasy. Sure, you were supposed to be attending a meeting with the man right now but having your face smushed up against some expensive wood and listening to the string of wonton groans ‘n grunts that left your employer’s throat was far more enjoyable.

This probably wasn't one of your smartest decisions considering the meeting you’re supposed to be in is probably one of high importance. And yeah, this teeny tiny mistake of yours may or may not lead to one of the most bizarre tales of your life but hey, in your defense, you were too fucked-out to think of your future at the time.

Especially with the way your head gets tugged up from the desk so rudely by a fistful of your hair, drool spilling past your wet parted lips, legs shaking, and hips faintly bruised by the edge of the desk you’d been tossed over. How could you think about anything or anyone else when—

“‘Michi,” Was all that you could moan out over and over and over again. So stupidly loud too as if you didn’t have a care in the world, “H-Harder, mmphf-, fuuck..”

Pulling your head back enough to give you the perfect chance to angle your gaze over to meet eyes with him, Yaga greets you with this fucked-out grin and a husked tone, “You’re too loud,” Before you can even fathom a reply, two thick fingers are getting shoved into your mouth. “Just beggin’ to be caught, huh?”

Talk about foreshadowing…

Your eyes roll in a mix of annoyance and pleasure, hips pushing back against him just as he presses himself forward. Then you feel his lips meet the crown of your ear and there’s a slight stutter in his thrusts.

“Lift your leg,” Yaga grunts hotly, to which your left leg pushes up to rest against the desk. “Fuck-, just like that,” He groans, removing the hand from your hair and moving it to your hip.

With your leg propped up against the desk, his cock hits a new angle inside you and even with his fingers pressed right against your tongue, you still manage to choke out a pleasureful whimper. Yaga’s feet shift against the floor a bit and he takes that sound of yours as a sign to keep hitting that spot over and over and over until—

His fingers soon fall from your lips and you flop right back down against the desk, one of his pencil holders going scattering to the floor as an arm of yours extends out to grab a hold of the surface's edge. Both of his palms meet your hips and he pins you down into the position you’ve found yourself in, drilling into your sopping hole like he’s grown addicted.

That rude plap plap plap! echoes all throughout his office along with each desperate moan that pours from your lips. At this point, neither of you were trying to be quiet anymore.

Before you even realize it, you’re making a filthy mess around his cock, tugging him deeper than before each time he reels his hips back and invoking the deepest groans of your name from his throat. Yaga found himself tossing his head back and the only thing he could focus on was that nasty squelch leaving your cunt.

A rough hand comes down on your ass somewhere throughout your high and you can’t even think anymore. You were too lost in all that felt good and didn’t exactly register the particularly pitched moan that left you until it was much too late.

Yaga could feel himself growing close so he leaned over you a bit, pushing his weight against you and moving a hand to the space on the desk right next to your side. You lift your head a bit, panting heavily, and his lips meet your neck.

Warm wet kisses are peppered all over the side of your neck and you feel him throbbing inside you, aching for release. “How mad do y’think the board will be?” Your boss utters into your skin, “Think they’d forgive me if I explained why I was s’late?”

You grit your teeth for a moment before choking out a response, feeling him smile against your neck as you do so. “I-I think you’d l-lose your-, hnngh… job i-if they knew what… hah, what you were doin’.” You stammer out breathlessly.

“Yeahh?” Yaga rasps, “I think they’d understand. Especially if I tell ‘em just how needy my pretty assistant’s been all day.” He emphasizes with a harsher thrust forward, causing you to choke on your own moan.

“Sir,” You gasp suddenly, eyes fluttering shut.

Your boss lets out a throaty sound, “Fuuck, d-don’t do that.” That simple gasp of yours was all it took for his cock to begin throbbing and aching for release inside you.

He was right there on the edge—ready to bring this quick fuck to an overdue end, shuffle your clothes back on properly, and then go stumbling into that meeting as late as ever. And yet, somewhere throughout the next groan that leaves his dry throat, his office door flies open.

“Mr. Yaga, I can’t hold this meeting off any longer, we need—” You honestly feel bad for the poor woman who had to walk in on the two of you.

The scene laid out before her widened eyes was like something straight out of some cheap porno. Papers and other desk items were splayed out all over the floor surrounding Yaga’s large desk, the two of you were as disheveled and debauched as ever, and the position both of you stood in wasn’t something you could try and pass off as anything aside from what it was.

Not to mention the way you feel Yaga’s cock twitch inside you wildly just as he spills filthy ropes of cum into you. Looking back on this whole thing makes you laugh because it was probably then that you realized the man had some kinda kink for that situation. Y’know, getting caught.

Earlier you said something about how he’d probably lose his job if the board found out about what the two of you were doing but that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

Nope, instead it was you who lost your job. Obviously, the lady who caught you wasn’t going to keep her discovery to herself and she practically sprinted back to the meeting room just to tell them about you and your boss.

Less than twenty-four hours later and you found yourself jobless.

Being unemployed wasn’t that bad if you’re being completely honest with yourself. Or, it wasn’t too bad for a couple of days. At the time that this all happened, you were living with Yaga. He wasn’t just your boss but he was also a lover of yours.

The relationship was kept very private for reasons concerning your job so when you lost it, you thought that your life would go in a different direction for the better. You and Yaga could openly go on dates, finally work toward the future he claimed to have wanted to build with you, and basically live your life freely.

You were able to live on with that mindset for a wonderful duration of… three days.

Yeah, three days and then Yaga dumped you and kicked your ass to the curb. For a time, you were devastated about this. He had promised you so many things, treated you with so much love and respect, and cared for you in the ways any decent partner would but, you eventually came to the conclusion that he only did all of that because you worked under him.

The event that caused you to lose your job also put a nasty stain on your previously crisp and meticulously crafted résumé. Before getting caught having sex with your boss, you would’ve been a shoo-in for any and all office-related jobs that were hiring.

But after that? You could kiss an easy work-life goodbye.

You’d been aware of the risk that came with having a romantic relationship with your boss from the moment you and him started to cross those professional lines. Though, you honestly didn’t expect to get caught like that.

That doubt behind your expectations probably blossomed from the lust and romantic clouds that left you blinded for months. Yaga was amazing until he wasn’t. Nothing could’ve prepared you to lose your job, boyfriend, home, and a large piece of your dignity in less than a week.

Since then, you swore to yourself that you’d never allow work and romance to blend. The sex you had with Yaga, whether it be in or out of the office, should’ve remained as it was—just sex. Unfortunately for you, things with him became more than that and you foolishly let your heart get involved with something that could & should have remained strictly lustful.

It was always more than Yaga just being your boss. He was tied with most things that held importance to you, which is exactly why you lost so much so ridiculously fast.

The only positive factor about that entire ordeal is the fact that it happened six years ago.

You’re an entirely different woman now, as to be expected.

While the stain on your resume made things very difficult for you for a good half of those six years, you weren’t left completely ruined. You managed to get decent jobs here and there—not that you ever stayed for long. And no, you weren’t constantly getting fired or anything.

This time around, you were actually learning just how easy it is to wrap men around that perfectly manicured finger of yours. Job after job after job and they all proved to act the same way.

You’ll never forget the way things went with Yaga but, you eventually learned that you were just doing things with him all wrong. You lacked both control and confidence over your life with him—a mistake which you’ll never make again.

· · ──────── ·𖥸· ──────── · ·

Today marks the day that you walk into a new company. It’s a bit generic—your average supply company but, the pay was enough to spark your interest (among other things).

After a flawless interview, you were hired almost immediately and today was your first day in for training. You lucked up enough to score a decent position and it was from this first day there that you knew you’d find your way to the top in no time. Not to mention the previous owner of your new position had recently been fired so, the company was already looking for someone new & you just so happened to be in search of a new job.

And while you readied yourself for said first day, members of the office you’d be arriving to within the next few minutes were sharing their opinions on the woman who’d be soon to join them; you.

“I’m calling bullshit,” Was the first properly formulated opinion on you as a whole, not that you were able to hear it. “She sounds way too good on paper.” Gojo Satoru scoffs out to his favorite cubicle of assorted people.

His words earn a laugh or two from those listening, which only encourages him to continue his ranting.

Resting his chin against his palm as he eyes down the moderately distant entrance on the other side of the large office space, Gojo puffs out an impatient sigh, “I mean seriously, her résumé’s almost better than mine! Not to mention,” His head cocks over toward one of the separated rooms, “She gets her own office. Do you guys remember how hard I had to work for mine?!”

A few nods of agreement go out to the complaining finance director but for some reason that doesn’t seem to satisfy him so he turns to his trusted assistant; the unfortunate Ijichi Kiyotaka—a man who almost always has to listen to whatever rambles Gojo spews.

“Can you believe this?” Gojo asks with a faintly pouted lip and slightly tensed brows, eyeing the stressed assistant standing a few inches away from him.

Ijichi merely shrugs, “You were made aware of her addition to this company over a week ago, sir. I thought by now you’d have accepted it considering—”

A lengthy finger meets Ijichi’s face before he has time to finish his sentence and Gojo turns his head away, “Wait, shhh, I think I heard something.” He interrupts, pushing up on his toes a bit just to get a better look at the steadily approaching figure about to round the distant corner and enter the office.

With that, everyone else’s head turns to get a look as well but they’re all quickly disappointed when only the company’s marketing VP, Higuruma, walks in. The tired-looking man raises a brow at all the attention fixated on him but many quickly play it off with a greeting gesture of a raised hand and wave.

Higuruma waves back, a bit of confusion vexed onto his features considering he doesn’t typically receive that much attention from that side of the office but he shrugs it off after a moment and continues his walk onward.

“Damnit,” Gojo grumbles, bringing his wrist up to check his flashy Rolex for the time. “She should’ve been here by now, no?”

One of his nearby interns let out a snort, “Y’know, this is the longest I’ve ever seen you outside your office, sir.”

Moving his hand just to meet eyes with the recently spoken, Gojo quirks a slim brow, “It is not.” He breathes out dramatically, trying to defend himself for the past thirty minutes he’s been lingering around awaiting your arrival. “A-And even if it is… Color me intrigued, I just want to see if the woman matches all that I’ve heard about her. It’s not like this is an easy company to get into, so—”

“..It wasn’t an easy company for you to get into, maybe,” Another intern murmurs jokingly, earning some chuckles.

“I heard that,” Gojo grumbles, “But my point still stands. I’m just curious and want to welcome her in.”

Ijichi clears his throat a bit, tempted to toss in his two cents regarding Gojo’s presence around the main office. His boss pauses again and slowly turns to send his assistant a look, “Is there something you’d like to say, Ijichi?”

“Well,” Dropping his dark brown eyes to the floor and moving a nervous hand to awkwardly push his glasses up a bit, Ijichi swallows thickly. “It’s just that you called her joining us ‘bullshit’ only a few minutes ago, a-and you don’t even think she’ll last long but now you want to welcome her in…?”

Gojo’s quickly taken back by Ijichi’s mentioning of an earlier comment he’d made out of annoyance—having grumbled something about how you’ll only last a week or so before you’re onto the next company or even fired. A couple of whispered agreements are exchanged by different employees, followed by giggles and other murmured comments that point out the inconsistency in Gojo’s attitude toward the newcomer.

Placing his hands on his hips, Gojo tuts, “Okay, yeah, I did say that but can a man not have a change of heart? I haven’t even seen the lady yet. For all I know she could walk in here all shy ‘n worried about joining us, which will make me feel bad and—”

Someone clears their throat, “Mr. Gojo.”

“—then I’ll take back everything I said, welcome her in, act like I haven’t been waiting on her for hours, and pretend to be surprised that she’s likely just as impressive in person as she is on paper. I was just a bit bothered by the fact that—”

“Mr. Gojo!” They whisper-shout this time, finally earning his attention.

Gojo sighs and looks at them for only a moment before that person nods their head over toward the entrance to the office and when the man follows the gesture, all of his word vomiting dies out on his tongue and just about all thoughts go flying out the window.

Many nearby heads turn, just like the first time when Higuruma had entered, except this time around it’s not in vain.

Around the corner comes a woman with her head held high and a determined look fixed firmly onto her features—that woman is you. Ignorant of all the talk about your arrival, you waltz right into the office behind someone by the name of Kusakabe.

The brunette that was leading the way for you was apparently your new assistant, which you thought was a wonderful perk to this job. He’d been giving you a tour of the building and the two of you had finally reached the floor you’d be predominantly working on.

As your heels go click-clacking across the cool flooring with each step you take, many eyes trail your every movement—only one pair in particular miraculously earning your gaze.

Kusakabe was explaining the layout of the office to you, telling you about how there were a total of two separate offices, one of them now belonging to you, and that the common space was where everyone else under you worked. As he points and shows you things, your eyes naturally wander elsewhere to get a look at all that he’d yet to explain and you finally notice how much attention is on you.

Heads popped up from a bunch of different cubicles and many were trying to play things off as if they weren’t looking at you but it was still obvious despite the magazines some hid their faces behind. The few people trying to look inconspicuous as they took in your presence sparked a warming smile to spread across your face but that’s not what really drew you in.

No, what captured your attention was the set of cerulean eyes focused solely on you from across the room. As your gaze met his, an unspoken vestige of tension drafted into the air. The office was huge so there was a great deal of space between where you and him stood but you still felt something upon meeting eyes with him.

Kusakabe soon noticed where your attention had landed and he stepped closer to you only to casually point in the direction you were already focused on, index aiming at the man staring at you, “That man over there is Gojo Satoru, our financial director.”

You nod slowly and your lips are steady to part as you reply in a whisper, still holding eyes with the man of current conversation, “I see. Does he stare at everyone like this or…?”

Your new assistant chuckles and turns his head to look at you, “Honestly? Yes,” He says lightheartedly.

To which you’re the first to break the little staring contest and return your attention to Kusakabe, “Wait, really?” You gasp slightly, noticing the way the brunette laughs again.

“No, not seriously but he does do that with new people. You’ll meet him more formally later and see for yourself,” He explains to you, earning a simple nod of your head in response.

Then, Kusakabe turns to show you into your office and you motion to follow after him once more.

You’re not sure what, but something tells you to look over to that guy again. Gojo Satoru you repeat mentally as you shoot your eyes over one last time. He was looking away but as soon as you turn, he does too, and another long distant staring contest is held between the two of you before you watch his face twist up a little.

With the cockiest smirk you’ve ever seen in your life, and although you can’t hear it from where you are, Gojo lets out a scoff before looking you up and down and then turning away—quickly disappearing into his nearby office with a slam of his door.

You bat your lashes and your brows are quick to meet in a mix of annoyance and confusion. You haven’t even officially spoken to the man and yet he has this nerve to flash such a displeased look at you? Or was it more a look to flaunt his ego—perhaps something to hide his intimidated demeanor?

Whatever it is, you merely brush it off with a roll of your eyes and turn to follow after Kusakabe.

First day into this place and you’ve already managed to leave a sour impression on someone, great.

· · ──────── ·𖥸· ──────── · ·

Inside that office of his, Gojo’s returned to his desk in a fit of… well, he’s not quite sure what he’s feeling right now.

You haven’t even done anything yet but, without a doubt, Gojo does not like you. Eyes narrowing as his thoughts begin to consume him, all he can replay in his head is the initial image of you rounding that corner behind Kusakabe. Unfortunately for him, you’re gorgeous. Which is an annoyance already because that makes you a distraction for him.

Not to mention the way you hold yourself together, head all high ‘n mighty with this confidence that bothers something deep within him—something he can’t quite put a finger on.

His hands shift to swipe up a pen from his cluttered desk and Gojo begins to twirl the item in between his fingers as he contemplates a few things. Ijichi soon comes sliding into the office quietly, not daring to say a word and disturb Gojo’s focus on whatever thought he's having.

A flashback of your resume, which Gojo only got a glimpse of because he was busy bothering the HR department instead of being productive, comes popping into his head. Absolutely flawless. Hell, he would’ve hired you instantly too if he’d been your employer. Even after reading over just the first few lines but shit, the perfection behind your résumé was uncanny.

And above all else, Gojo’s jealous. He’s been working at this company for almost two years now—steadily climbing up, of course, but it still took him a long time to get to where he is right now. Which doesn’t even make sense to him. He went to college with the CEO!

It’s not like Gojo exactly needs this job, he’s rich. He’s only here because of that recently mentioned CEO. Gojo’s had money all his life so by the time he reached his late twenties, he found himself bored. He felt like he’d done everything he was meant to do in life except get a proper job.

Which is why he’s here now. This job gave him a challenge, he had to work hard to get hired, work harder to get promoted, and damn near stress himself just to get a conversation or two with that guy he went to college with.

Then there’s you. You who got to walk in here and have everything served to you on a silver platter right before his very eyes. And you have the nerve to be stunning?

Talk about greed…

The way you had turned and flashed such a warming smile to everyone when you came in—too friendly for Gojo’s liking, might he add, all beaming and welcoming… His eyes just roll at the memory of it. It was probably fake, that smile of yours. Fingers crossed and you turn out to be a bad person so he can have a real reason to dislike you.

Shaking his head, Gojo realizes he’s overthinking this whole thing. He doesn’t care about you. You're just some newcomer! You’ll be gone in a week—the last chick in your position had only been here for two months before she was gone so he doubts you’ll last longer.

Or, that’s what he tells himself anyway. Because not even two minutes later and he’s standing from his desk and pacing over to his office windows, peeking through the blinds and trying to get the best view of your whereabouts from where he can.

Your office door is now closed so he can’t see anything that’s going in there but he can’t help but wonder what kinda person you are. The previous marketing director and Gojo didn’t get along too well so maybe that’s a part of whatever stigma he’s attached to you already. Hence his nebby nature now.

Watching your office door like a hawk from the confines of his own space, Gojo’s got one hand separating the blinds for a good view and the other tightly clasped around a warm cup of coffee. In the midst of sipping on that morning beverage of his, a sudden choke on the liquid alarms the nearby Ijichi, who comes rushing forward as Gojo begins to cough and then point at something.

“Sir, are you okay?” Ijichi asks as he approaches his boss with an abundance of napkins.

Gojo starts shaking his head but doesn’t spare the poor guy any more of a reply before swiping the napkins from Ijichi’s nerved palms, briskly wiping his mouth off, and moving to swing his door open.

Still confused, Ijichi merely follows after Gojo with furrowed brows and ends up walking right into him. At the same time, both men stumble to get a full view of what caused such an abrupt reaction.

“You’re joking,” Gojo mutters under his breath, now glaring across the office with an irritated eye twitching in tandem with his emotions. Because not only did Nanami Kento—the company’s CEO—go out of his way to visit this floor for the first time in weeks but of course he’s only making an appearance to talk to you.

When Gojo first saw the tall blond round that entryway corner, he thought he was just imagining things. But now that he’s stepped out of his office to get a better look, he’s left baffled. Your office door is open and Kusakabe is clearly panicked as he talks to the very intimidating Nanami. Although Gojo can’t quite make out the conversation from where he’s standing, watching you walk out only a few moments later tells him all he needs to know.

Gojo’s eyes follow every movement of yours as Nanami gives you a nod of his head, and clearly tells you to ‘follow him’. Then comes that annoying smile of yours before you so graciously trail behind the man. Without even thinking, Gojo swats his mug back to Ijichi, who barely clutches onto the item, and then his feet begin to move.

Being curious is one thing, nosy is another. Doubting you is one thing, talking shit about you before you even got there is another. And having your position as Marketing Director handed to you is one thing but earning Nanami’s attention on your first day here is another ordeal entirely.

Just who the hell are you? And why were you gaining all the things Gojo’s wanted since his first day here on your first day?

Gojo makes it halfway across the office just as Nanami disappears behind that corner, heading toward the elevators. You, following closely behind, stop for a second and it’s in that instant that Gojo’s feet pause flat on the floor.

He’s not sure why he’s stopped so suddenly but he doesn’t get much time to think about it before you turn your head back and look directly at him—almost as if you knew he left his office just to follow you. The sudden eye contact makes Gojo swallow down this weird feeling in his throat he wasn’t aware existed until now.

You watch the way his eyes narrow at you and, as if to get back at him, you then let your gaze fall downward along his body before rising back up. A natural twitch in the corner of your lips is felt before you mock his earlier expression with an attitude somehow cockier than his was.

Gojo is left visibly offended; brows so frustratedly scrunched up, eyes carrying a level of irritation that almost makes you want to take things a step further and laugh, and hands balled into tight fists at his sides. His lips part ever so slightly and you can tell it’s killing him not to say something right now-, anything, really.

The sound of your name being called from around the corner breaks the tension entirely and he watches the way you flinch a little. Your eyes get a bit wider and whatever mask of confidence you just put on falters for not even half a second before you turn away with a prompt reply of ‘coming, sorry!’ and then disappear within the blink of an eye.

It’s only day one but, without a doubt, Gojo cannot stand you. A feeling of which he highly doubts will ever change.

m.list | next file >

"Where." The single word carried the weight of an execution order...

"O-outside," she hiccupped again, pointing with a shaky finger towards where the clown was making balloon animals, "D-daddy he made a b-alloon and it exploded in m-my face!" her voice hitched on another sob. Watery eyes locking onto his which were now glowing a brilliant crimson as he held her protectively against his chest- watching this painted fuck of a man who was now grinning broadly at the new wave of children. "H-he laughed at me crying..."

You stepped closer, hand settling on his arm trying to draw his attention to you- it was a lost cause… this you knew. The only thing he cared about in this moment was his daughter and the man who'd dare to upset his flesh and blood...

"Don't." He said sharply.

"Sukuna, it's just a street performer. From the festival. She's not actually hur-"

The look he turned on you was arctic, the force of it freezing the words in your throat, "He. Made. Our. Daughter. Fucking. Cry." Each word was enunciated perfectly, a low snarl of fury, "And no one, makes my girls cry."

This wasn't the man who helped with bedtime stories. Nor the man who picked you up with one arm when your legs ached and held you tenderly against him… This was the man who had ripped out hearts, who'd torn men apart with his bare hands- a man who had no qualms about spilling blood in his wake. A ruthless, vicious tyrant who did not tolerate threats when it came to his family, even if it was just a street performer.

Your eyes flickered to your baby girl, her wails- her tiny voice cracking each time she tried to speak… You decided that if the man had scared her that badly, then he had it coming… Right?

"Go," your voice was gentle, "Do what you do best-" you leaned up, placing a gentle kiss to his jaw, "and keep us safe."

The smile that graced his lips was dark, twisted, a hint of madness dancing across his handsome face as his gaze turned back to the clown who was oblivious to the fate that was about to befall him.

"Stay with your mother," Sukuna's voice was soft- a rare tone reserved only for the two of you as he began peeling her arms from his neck.

"NO!!!" she shrieked, clinging tighter, fresh panic washing over her, "D-don't leave me, daddy!!" Her voice was filled with genuine terror, "Y-you can't go! You can't!"

Sukuna struggled internally- a war between the father he'd become wanting to stay by her side and continue holding her until she was calm, and the monster he's always been, demanding retribution.

He stroked her hair once, "I'm not leaving you... Just going to make the painted fuck go away."

"Sukuna," you warned, "I know I'm backing you on this but…" you glanced towards the clown, "it's a children's entertainer doing his job in the middle of the day. There's a lot of people here… You can't just walk up to him and-"

"I know exactly what i'm going to do," he cut you off, finally transferring her to your arms despite her desperate protests.

"What are you going to do?"

"Whatever it takes." He was already moving toward the front door of your shop, shoulders set, a confident stride in his steps, hands shoved in his pockets, his expression darkening the further he walked away from the two of you.

Your daughter pressed her face against your cheek, "Is daddy going to make the bad man go away?" she whispered, her arms locking around you, fingers tangling in your hair, "Daddy always makes the scary things go away."

"Yeah, sweetie," you murmured, watching Sukuna through your shop window, "he does doesn't he?" you nuzzle into her, bouncing her once, "Your daddy is always there to shield us, and to take care of us… even when it comes to the small things."

"Uh huh," she sniffled, wiping her eyes, "Daddy's strong."

You smiled at that, "The strongest," you agreed.

Through the glass, you watched him step onto the sidewalk, his presence immediately carving a path through pedestrians who recognized him. Even from this distance, you could see the exact moment the clown sensed death approaching. His hands faltered on the half twisted balloon, painted smile freezing as something screamed in his brain, danger.

In one fluid motion, Sukuna draped an arm around the clown's shoulders. The balloon that had been moments from becoming a dolphin slipped from his hands, squealing as it flew into the air and landed on the pavement.

"Hey, buddy," Sukuna said loudly, his voice pitched for the benefit of the parents and children nearby, dripping with absolute false warmth... "My little girl loved your act. Mind if we get a private performance?" Without waiting for consent, he tightened his grip around the clown's neck, steering him away from the crowd.

The clown stumbled alongside him, forced to move by Sukuna's iron control. To onlookers, they looked like old friends... No one noticing the clown's growing terror as they disappeared around the corner. 

The moment they were alone, Sukuna's mask shattered. He slammed the clown against the brick wall with enough force to crack the man's skull, leaving just the right amount of blood smeared behind as a reminder of his strength. One tattooed hand crushed his throat while the other gripped his jaw, forcing eye contact.

"Listen very fucking carefully you painted piece of shit," Sukuna growled, face inches away, "you made my daughter cry. You scared her. The last person who did that lost everything from the neck down."

The clown's eyes bulged, breathing ragged as Sukuna's grip slowly crushed his windpipe, "I-I-I'm sor-"

"I could kill you right here," Sukuna continued, voice dropping to a whisper that promised agony... "Peel you apart piece by piece. Feed what's left to the stray dogs behind the market." His grip tightened until the man's face began purpling, eyes rolling back. "No one would even notice you were gone until the smell got bad..."

Just as consciousness began slipping, your face flashed through his mind- that same soft, loving smile you always wore… And then his daughter… the way her little cheeks dimpled when she smiled at him, the trust she put in him. You were both waiting for him to return. He could almost hear your voice, feel your arms around him, your hands cupping his cheeks as his daughter clung to his pant leg…

Fuck…

Killing this guy would take forever… Longer than he'd like to be away from you both…

God dammit…

"But I'm feeling generous today," Sukuna released his throat, letting him suck in desperate air. Before the man could recover, Sukuna's fist buried itself in the man's stomach, folding him in half. "So i'm offering you a choice. Leave this city. Never work as a clown again. And if ever see your ugly face- painted or not… I'll carve a permanent smile from eat to ear," the tip of his finger dragged along the man's cheek, cutting a thin line through the makeup before forcing his chin up, "Do i make myself clear?"

The clown nodded frantically, tears cutting tracks through his makeup.

Sukuna's thumbnail dug into the corner of his mouth, "Answer me. With words. No nodding."

"Y-yes-" The clown managed, his voice hoarse, "yes. Pple-please... Yes. Th-thank you."

"Get out of my sight." he snarled, tossing him by the face to the ground.

Sukuna waited until the guy was out of sight before pulling the black bandana from his pocket, wiping the white greasepaint from his hands. Only then did he stroll casually back around the front, his face bored- neutral, the one he typically wore.

When he reentered, his eyes immediately sought out you and his daughter. The relief on his daughter's face when she spotted him made his heart tighten... He was .

"Problem solved," he announced, holding his arms out for her to transfer herself from your embrace to his without hesitation.

"What did you do?" you asked, your voice quite enough so that she couldn't hear.

His eyes met yours- and you smirked knowing the look...

The clown had survived, but only because killing him would have taken too long.

"Softie~" You chuckled, leaning against his arm.

"M'not," he muttered, pressing a kiss to his daughter's hair as her eyes fluttered shut, "Just had other things to do today…"

His daughter's tired voice rose from the crook of his neck, "Did you make the bad clown go away," she smiled sleepily, "just like you promised?"

"Yeah..." he whispered into his hair, "No one gets to scare you. Not while I'm around, little one."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

As night fell you found Sukuna laying sprawled out on his daughter’s tiny bed, his large frame comically oversized for the child sized furniture. There on his chest, she was draped across him like a koala, fast asleep with one small hand still clutching his shirt. His tattooed arm curled around her, dwarfing her little body.

He wasn’t asleep. His eyes tracking your movements as you entered her room, alert as always, though his body remained perfectly still to avoid disturbing the little girl using him as a bed. 

"She wouldn't let go," he grumbled, his deep voice barely audible.

You moved to sit on the edge of the bed, gently brushing her hair from her face, revealing the peaceful expression of a child who felt completely safe.

"How violent did you actually get with the clown?" you asked quietly, your fingers lingering on your daughter's cheek.

Sukuna's eyes met yours in the glow of the turtle nightlight, unflinching, "Violent enough."

"You didn't kill him."

It wasn't a question, but he answered anyway, "No." His eyes flicked down to his daughter, then back to you. "Didn't need to. Yet."

You nodded, understanding the unspoken message. The "yet" was contingent on whether the clown was stupid enough to ignore Sukuna's warning.

"You know you're stuck here for the night, right?." you nodded toward her death grip on his shirt, "She won't let go of you, not even in her sleep."

"Yeah… I know. Wouldn't be the first time, won't be the fucking last." He sounded disgruntled, but you knew him well enough to catch the glimmer of contentment in his eyes, "This kid loves me too damn much."

You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, then, to Sukuna's lips. He returned the kiss, teeth nipping at your lower lip, his free hand coming up to cup the back of your neck.

"She's not the only one," you say under your breath, but loud enough for him to hear, eyes locking onto his. "We're both so lucky to have you, Sukuna. Thank you, for everything. For taking care of us, and for being her protector."

He looked away, uncomfortable with the sentiment despite everything you'd been through together, "It's what I do," he replied gruffly...

You smiled, settling beside him, head pillowed on his broad shoulder, half your body hanging off the tiny bed as he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you to him best he could, "You're going to wake up with an achy back tomorrow."

"Don't give a damn," he grunted, pressing his face into the top of your head, "can't really move when I've got two brats sleeping on me."

You chuckle softly, letting your eyes flutter shut, enjoying his warmth, the steady sound of his heart beating under your ear and the soft sounds of your daughter's breathing, "You could, if you wanted."

"You done yapping? You're keeping me up… Go the fuck to sleep already." his arm tightened around you, holding you against him, his own eyes closing finally.

You smiled, knowing that he'd never admit he loved being in this position- surrounded by the two of you,

You caught one last glimpse of him adjusting his daughter more comfortably against his chest, his large hand cradling her head with impossible gentleness. The most feared man in the city, reduced to nothing more than a pillow for his daughter and her mother.

Toji raised a brow, towel slung over his neck. “If you’re sayin’ that ‘cause you think you’re fat, ain’t takin’ you.”

You shifted on your feet, chewing your lip. “But if I just… wanna get stronger? Maybe more stamina?”

He tilted his head like he was sizing you up, then grinned. “Hmm that's nice... If you’ve got more strength, I don’t gotta hold back, y’know.”

"Tojiii... youuu!!!"

“Good girl,” he muttered, giving your ass a smack making you squeak and red as Geto chuckled.

You hugged Toji quickly, mumbling a thank you before scampering off to your room. where, unsurprisingly, Gojo had already invaded your bed. He was curled up hugging your plushie like it was a lifeline, nose buried into it.

“Satoru…?”

“Mhmm?” he cracked open one icy blue eye and grinned. “You smell like heaven. Don’t leave me ever.”

“I won't,” you laughed, sitting beside him. “Will you come help me shop for gym clothes?”

That, apparently, was the magic phrase.

“YOU’RE GOING TO THE GYM?!” he practically flew out of your bed. “I need to supervise. I’m coming.”

You shouldn’t have asked. At the store, it was a disaster. Gojo was yanking crop tops off hangers, tossing booty shorts into your arms, dramatically flinging sparkly sports bras over your head.

“Satoru!!” you hissed, holding a pair of tiny shorts like they were radioactive. “I can’t wear this to the gym!”

“Why not?” he pouted. “It’ll keep the boys away ‘cause they’ll know you’re already taken.”

“Th...that doesn't even make any sense. They’ll stare.”

“Let them!” he said proudly. “Let them die from jealousy!”

Thankfully, Geto came to the rescue, offering you a few sleek, modest and comfortable sets in earthy tones. “These look good. functional too.”

You smiled sweetly, relieved. “Thank you, suguru.”

Gojo looked betrayed. “Okay, what is this? Everyone ignoring me. I bring spice to your life and all I get is disrespect.”

Back home, Gojo plopped onto the bed while you laid out your new clothes on them. “I’m gonna miss you when you're gone,” he said, pressing his face into your thigh.

“I’ll only be gone for a few hours,” you giggled, stroking his hair.

“Exactly. Too long.”

***

The next morning, you stepped out in your brand new gym clothes, shorts hugging your hips, a tight sports bra, and a loose T-shirt thrown on top. you felt a little silly, but excited.

Geto handed you a gym bag with a smile. “Water bottle. Banana. Trail mix. Text me if you need anything.”

“Thank you…” you hugged him, touched by the thoughtfulness.

Nanami appeared, kissed your cheek gently. “Call me if anything’s off. Anything.”

Toji, who had just walked out from the kitchen munching on something, scoffed. “She’s with me, jackass.”

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” Nanami deadpanned, adjusting his tie.

“Yeah, yeah.” Toji stuffed the last of the bread into his mouth. “Let’s go, doll.”

He took a helmet for you and slung an arm over your shoulders, steering you out the door. You couldn't even wave goodbye before he led you to his black bike. He handed you the helmet and straddled the seat.

“Get on,” he said. “Gotta hold tight though. Might go fast.”

You obeyed without a second thought, sliding on behind him and wrapping your arms around his torso.

“Like a fuckin’ koala,” he muttered, shaking his head fondly. “If I feel your tits pressin’ into me one more time I can't promise if I'm gonna crash us into a wall.”

“Shut up toji!!” you squeaked, as he laughed loud and revived the engine.

“Hold on, princess. Let’s go build that stamina of yours.”

***

Gym smelled like sweat and steel, music pumping through the speakers as you stepped inside with Toji beside you. Instantly, heads turned.

“Yo, toji !”

“Morning, fushiguro!”

“Spot me first, yeah?!”

He grunted a few responses, barely sparing them a glance, his hand sliding down to your lower back possessively. Everyone knew him. He was the best trainer in the gym. Big, broad and confident, the type of man people admired and secretly drooled over.

“All right, baby,” he said, tossing a towel over his shoulder. “Let’s see what that soft little body can handle.”

You swallowed hard as he started guiding you through the beginner routines. But the man couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Every “correction” involved groping, his calloused fingers brushing your inner thighs, his palm flat on your lower belly, adjusting your hips with a grip that lingered.

“Stretch, bend… yeah, like that,” he murmured behind you. You bent forward and thump.

You gasped, feeling the unmistakable pressure of his bulge nudging against your core. “Toji…” you whined, cheeks burning.

“What?” he feigned innocence, rocking his hips just slightly. “Form’s gotta be perfect, baby.”

Your knees trembled. He let out a chuckle and finally pulled back. After teasing you within an inch of sanity, he finally let you catch your breath, handing you a water bottle. “Walk on the treadmill for a while, yeah? gotta see a couple of clients.”

You nodded, slightly dazed, and he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your neck followed by a sharp bite.

“Don’t miss me too much,” he smirked, walking off.

You walked slowly, sweat sliding down your back as you tried to focus on the rhythm of your steps. You took a sip of water, cheeks warm. That’s when you heard someone giggling. You turned slightly and there she was.

Toned thighs, tight gym shorts, sports bra hugging a perfect figure. Her ponytail bounced as she smiled up Toji. He stood beside her, adjusting her posture, saying something too low for you to hear. She laughed again, arm brushing against his. His hands were on her hips, not in a dirty way but just there, showing her how to move, how to hold the stretch. Still, she leaned in too much. Her fingers brushed his bicep under the pretense of balance. Her eyes didn’t leave his mouth when he spoke.

You knew it was part of his job but it stung. Hard. You looked away. Swallowed and then looked again. And that was it.

“Tojiii,” you called, loud enough to carry. His head snapped to you instantly.

“Yeah, doll?” he jogged over, concern furrowing his brows. “You okay? Tired?”

You shook your head quickly. “I wanna go home.”

He blinked, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Doll, … I work here, yeah? Got that girl to train—she’s one of my regular clients. And those two too—” he nodded toward a couple of girls lifting weights across the floor. You nodded slowly, eyes flicking back to the girl who was still watching him.

“I’ll book ya a cab, hmm?” he said gently, pulling his phone out. “Call me when you get back.”

You stepped back and reached for your towel from his hands. “I don’t need a cab. I’ll call suguru.”

His brows drew together slightly. “Huh? wait—”

But you’d already turned, walking toward your bag without looking back. Outside, the cool air stung your skin. You dialed Geto with shaky fingers.

“Honey?” he answered on the first ring. “Done already?”

“Suguu… can you pick me up?”

He was there in ten minutes. You didn’t say a word, just climbed into the passenger seat and pulled your knees up to your chest. He didn’t press. But when he glanced over at the red in your eyes, his jaw tightened. He drove you home in silence, hand resting protectively on your knee. He dropped you home, a kiss to your cheeks then drove off to work.

***

You didn’t have class today. And yet the whole day felt heavier than usual. You tried to read, tried to write, maybe even clean your room but your thoughts kept spiraling back to the image of that girl at the gym. He let her touch him. Let her press up close, even if it was all part of the damn job. You hated that it mattered so much. Hated that he was still at the gym right now. Still surrounded by girls like that.

Eventually, the weight of it made you curl into bed and sleep the day away, your chest tight and mind restless. Evening came. The apartment door clicked open. You stirred only when you heard the shower running. You moved to the couch with the plushie Gojo bought you once. A few minutes later, warm arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you gently from the couch into a lap that was all peace and safety.

Nanami smelled like cedarwood and clean skin. His damp hair brushed your cheek as he kissed your temple. "How was your day, sweetheart?" he asked, voice low and smooth.

“I… just slept,” you mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, voice barely audible.

He tilted your chin with two fingers. “All day?”

You nodded up at him. "Yeah..."

He hummed. “And how was the gym?”

Your face faltered before you could stop it. Your eyes dropped. You hated that he noticed it instantly.

"What's wrong, love?"

"Nothing," you whispered too fast, trying to turn away.

His voice turned firm. “What happened?”

“I-it's nothing serious—really.”

“Did Toji do something to you?”

Your head snapped up, panic flashing. “No! no, nothing like that—he didn’t—he didn’t do anything.”

Nanami narrowed his eyes slightly. “Then talk to me. What is it?”

You exhaled shakily and looked down again. And then, in a quiet, hesitant voice, you finally let it spill.

“It’s just… at the gym… when toji left me to go train someone else, there was this girl, she was really pretty and she kept touching him and smiling at him and… I know it’s his job but… I felt… so stupid.”

Your voice broke a little as you reached the end, cheeks flushed with shame. Nanami didn’t speak for a second. he just tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and kissed your temple again.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured. “He’s a trainer. That’s what he does. It's nothing to worry about.” he smiled.

You nodded reluctantly. “But she was touching him. On the arms. And her laugh was like… flirty. She likes toji. I know it.”

He raised a brow. "Oh? she likes him?"

You nodded, like complaining.

“And who does toji love?”

Your lips parted. "Wh-what?"

"I asked who does toji and all of us love, hmm?"

You blinked, dumbfounded. “…Me?”

“Exactly.”

He kissed your cheek, your jaw, then lower, down your neck. “You're our girl, yeah?” he whispered, breath warm.

You giggled softly, heat rushing to your chest. His hands moved up under your shirt. “That’s more like it,” he murmured, thumbing your nipple. “My pretty girl getting all upset over this… adorable.”

Before you could respond, the front door opened.

"I'm home," came Geto's familiar voice from the hallway.

You froze in Nanami’s lap as Geto stepped into the living room, a little strand of his hair damp from sweat. His eyes landed on you, then narrowed slightly when he saw where you were.

“Well, well,” he drawled, walking over and crouching beside the couch. “I don’t get this greeting?” he leaned in and kissed your lips gently, fingers brushing your knee. “How was the gym, baby?”

You flinched slightly, eyes darting to Nanami. He chuckled when you gave him a pleading look—please don’t tell him. Nanami raised his brow. “Should I not say?”

You shook your head so fast it was almost embarrassing. “Nooo...!”

Geto's brows pulled together as he looked between you and Nanami. “Okay, what'd I miss?”

A quiet laugh escaped Nanami as he shook his head. “She's been sulking all day,” he said, “ranting to me about this girl at the gym who was looking at toji.”

“Nanamin!”

The realization dawned on Geto almost immediately, the corners of his mouth twitched upward. “Ohh,” he hummed. “You were jealous, baby?” he teased, tilting his head. “Over toji?”

“I-I wasn’t! I mean—no!”

Nanami leaned in, his palm resting on your thigh again. “Oh, you should’ve seen her. Face all scrunched up the whole time.”

Geto’s hands joined his, trailing up your other leg. “You poor baby,” he murmured. “Did he stretch her out too? like he do to you before he fucks you dumb?”

Your mouth fell open, mortified. “S-stop! You two are being mean…”

They both leaned in, trapping you in the heat of their bodies. “You like when we’re mean,” Geto said softly, licking your pulse point.

“I’m not jealous,” you stammered, pushing at their chests feebly.

“Oh?” Nanami smirked. “Then why are you shaking like that, hmm?”

“I-I’m not!”

“I think you are,” Geto grinned at you. “Should we call toji, tell him how you’re acting like a brat over him?”

“Noooo! you can't...” you squeaked, face burning. You shoved them both lightly and scrambled off Nanami’s lap, your heart thumping. “I’m not jealous!” you insisted, running toward your room and slamming the door shut behind you. You could hear their soft laughs echo behind the door.

“She’s definitely jealous,” Nanami said.

“Agree, agree.” Geto replied.

And you were behind the door, cheeks on fire and your heart thumping like crazy.

***

Toji came home a little later than usual, sweat clinging to his skin, hair a little damp, gym bag slung over his shoulder. You didn’t greet him like you normally did. Didn’t even look up from the couch when he walked past. Not a smile, not a “welcome home.” Just silence.

He noticed. Ohh, he definitely noticed.

The first time he passed you, he let it slide. Maybe you were tired. Maybe you didn’t hear him. The second time, when he tossed his bag on the chair and asked, “You eat anything yet?”, and you just mumbled a “yeah” without even turning your head, his jaw ticked. When you pulled away from his touch later saying you were “not in the mood” he snapped.

And the next thing you knew, Toji’s hand was gripping your wrist as he dragged you inside your room, slamming it shut behind him.

“The fuck is wrong with you today?” he barked, pushing you gently but firmly toward the bed. “Been giving me this cold-ass shoulder since morning.”

You swallowed hard, eyes wide.

“Didn’t call when you got home,” he said, voice rising. “Didn’t reply to a single fuckin’ text. Didn’t pick up any of my calls. You just walked out the gym and vanished. And now you’re actin’ like I did something?”

“Toji, I—”

“No, you don’t get to shut me out like this without telling me what the fuck is wrong.” He stepped closer, hands on either side of your waist, pinning you in place. His eyes scanned your face, furious but confused, jaw clenched, chest rising and falling too fast.

Your lower lip trembled, eyes getting wet. “You’re scaring me…”

Toji froze when he saw your face changes. “Shit. No, No—fuck.” He ran a hand through his hair, stepping back. “Don’t—don’t cry. Fuck, don’t do that. Didn’t mean to yell. Shit. I didn’t even do anything, why are you crying like that?”

“You’re.... so mean,” you whispered, voice cracking. “I hate you.”

You pushed at his chest with both hands, stumbling out of his grip, hot tears streaking down your cheeks. Before he could react, you ran straight to the living room, where Nanami was reading on the couch. You threw yourself into his arms, sobbing into his chest. He held you without question, his arms secure around your waist, hand soothing your back.

Toji came after you, of course. Stopping at the hallway, panting, looking genuinely wrecked.

“The fuck happened to her?” he demanded, eyes narrowing at Nanami. “She said I’m mean. What did I even do? She’s never called me that, not even when I was bullying her cunt like—”

“Toji.” Nanami cut him off, calm but sharp. “For the love of God, don’t finish that sentence.”

Toji blinked, then rubbed his temples. “I didn’t even fuckin’ do anything…”

Geto strolled in just in time to hear the tail end of it, sipping on something cold. He glanced between the three of you and smirked.

“Toji,” he said with a chuckle, “You might wanna consider a career change if this is how it’s going.”

“What?” Toji blinked again, clearly not following. Then it clicked. “Oh.” his voice dropped into a knowing growl. “Ohhhh.....”

He started laughing, low and sharp. Cruel in how accurate it was. “That’s what this was about?” he pointed toward you. “That girl today?”

You didn’t answer, face buried in Nanami’s chest, fists clenched in his shirt.

Toji walked over with purpose. “You really got all bratty over that stuck-up cardio chick? Baby, that’s work. That ain’t fun.” He grabbed you by the waist, prying you from Nanami’s lap like you weighed nothing.

“Toji—let go!” you squealed, trying to fight him off.

“You wanna cry? fine. You can cry on my cock,” he snarled.

He carried you toward your room, ignoring your squirming, ignoring the way Geto was cackling behind him, ignoring Nanami’s slow exhale and murmured, “Toji. Don't be so hard on her.”

He dropped you on the bed, crawling over you, his big frame caging you in. You thought he was gonna fuck you mean out of anger. Instead, he pulled your shorts down and nudged your legs apart, slowly running the thick length of his cock up and down your folds not pushing in.

Your eyes widened. “Toji—”

“Shh,” he cut in, voice smooth and dark. “Let me ask you something, baby.”

His cock slid through your slick folds again, dragging right over your clit. You gasped, trying to close your thighs but his hand pushed them back open. “Want me to put it in?”

You swallowed thickly, face burning, unable to speak. He chuckled, slow and mean. “Just the tip, yeah? That’ll shut your jealous little head up?” he lined himself up and rubbed the tip right against your entrance without pushing in. “That enough to make you forget about her?”

You whimpered, hips twitching.

“No?” he murmured, kissing your throat, teasing the head of his cock at your tight entrance again, not entering. “Want me to really fuck it in? want it deep, or you just want the tip like a good little slut?”

You squirmed, unable to form any words, shaking your head.

“Don’t want the tip?” he smirked, hand sliding under your shirt, palming your tits. “Then what do you want, baby? want me to fuck it in deep and ruin that jealous little cunt so you remember who you belong to?”

“I—I’m sorry—”

“Sorry?” he cooed mockingly. “Sorry for what, sweetheart?" he slides his cock up your folds teasing.

"Sorry for saying you hate me?" another grind.

"Or sorry for not calling?" he rolls his hips again.

"Or sorry for being a pouty, bratty, little thing?”

“…All of it…” you whispered, breath hitching.

Toji’s eyes softened just for a second. Then he shoved the tip in. Just barely. Enough to make you jolt and moan. He groaned. “Tight little hole. Fuck, missed this cock, huh?”

You nodded desperately. “Please—Toji…”

He smirked, sliding in just another inch. “Gonna take it back now? that thing you said earlier?”

Your heart stuttered. “I—I didn’t mean it—” another push. “I don’t hate you—!”

“Then what do you feel, huh?”

“I—” you choked out, tears spilling again, “I love you—I love you, Toji, please—!”

He chuckled, finally burying himself all the way in one slow, punishing thrust. “Yeah. that’s my girl,” he whispered. “Now tell me… who’s my good baby?”

“Ahhh.... me,” you gasped.

He pulled out slowly and slammed back in. “Say it again.”

“Me—!”

“Who’s the one who gets all my love and kisses?”

“Me—!”

“Who’s the little thing bouncing on my cock every night?”

You sobbed, head spinning. “That's—!”

He smirked, licking a stripe up your cheek like a reward. “That’s what I thought.”

And just like that, he grabbed your hips and started fucking you for real. Deep, slow thrusts, each one sealing every filthy word inside you. Toji grinned down at you, his cock still twitching inside, his body hot and heavy as he leaned in, voice smug and low against your cheek.

“Jealous little bunny, huh?” he murmured, dragging his thumb along your bottom lip. “Gets all possessive for me? Hmm? Love me that much?”

You nodded furiously, lips parted, breath shaky.

“Oh? Thought you hated me?” he teased, voice dipping as he nipped at your throat. “Didn’t you say that, huh?”

“S-so… sorry,” you whimpered, clutching at his shoulders. “Won’t say it again… I– I love you…”

He hummed, pleased, his cock grinding just a little deeper. “Is that so?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Then… wanna mark me up?” he smirked.

“What?”

“To show that gym chick not to fuck with me, yeah?” he murmured, dragging your hand over his bare chest. “Come on, mark me up like a good little bunny. Start with my neck.”

Your eyes widened, but he tilted his head, baring his thick throat. “Come on,” he growled softly. “Bite me.”

You leaned in, sinking your teeth gently into his skin. He chuckled low. “Oh? you can do better than that. Bite harder, baby—gotta show her, hmm?”

You obeyed, a little harder this time.

“Good girl,” he groaned, voice roughening. “Now my arms. Come on, leave marks everywhere they can see. You want them to see, don’t you?”

Your lips trembled as you nodded and leaned in again. Toji just grinned, letting you claim him. He slowed his thrusts, just enough for you to breathe barely, his chest heaving, your body trembling under his. One of his big hands gripped your jaw, tilting your teary, fucked-out face up to meet his eyes.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, voice low and filthy against your lips. “Next time you feel jealous, you tell me, yeah?”

You nodded weakly, barely able to keep your eyes open. he smirked, cock still buried deep inside you.

“I’ll make sure to fuck the jealousy right outta you. Every single time.”

It’s unnerving. The flapping of wings in the pit of your stomach is exchanged for a more ill-seated churning when Satoru leaves and Sukuna takes his place. Yesterday when you didn’t have the gumption to ask how the hell this arrangement was meant to work, you might have called it nerves, but by only day two, it’s just frustrating.

The brute glances up from whoever he’s texting, visibly fiddling with his lip ring that shifts each time his jaw ticks.

You meet his gaze from behind your phone, dropping the device from your gaze when he doesn’t waiver.

“Do you mind?”

His head tilts an inch, his chin raised just enough that his smirk feels condescending. “Not at all.”

You can’t decide whether you prefer Sukuna when the weather in his world is stormy or when it’s sunny and he’s amused. They’re a different brand of asshole.

“You know, asking you for help was pretty fucking hard to do in the first place,” you begin, frustrated with the theatrics of your co-worker. His brow cocks as you pin him in place with your words. “So I’d appreciate it if you stopped making me feel weird about it.”

His lips press into a thin line, any hint of amusement fading. “Look,” he begins with equal frustration. “I’m not trying to make you feel weird for asking for help. I don’t give a shit how you learn about what we sell, even if it’s because of Satoru. I told you that from the start. If you want someone’s instruction, whatever. That’s fine.” He pushes up off the counter, all six-foot-something of him towering over you. “You’re allowed to ask questions about sex, especially here. But you knew from the start what I’m like.”

The demeanor he carries himself with that gives you the sense he thinks he’s above not just you, but everyone, still simmers under his skin. You can see it in the way he carries himself, like that egotistical mindset never fades.

But you can’t be upset when he’s honest with you, and open too in the subject that makes your stomach flutter. His words aren’t comforting, but they settle your frustration and nerves. Something in the way he’s direct and has nothing to hide reminds you why you ever asked him in the first place.

Pushing his fingers back through his hair, he shakes his head. “Why not just tell Satoru you don’t have experience?”

Your shoulders rise and fall as you face him. “It’s not…” You sigh, your gaze falling. “Just about Satoru.”

“Then what’s it about? What’s getting to you so much that you asked me?”

Running your tongue over your lower lip, you worry it in between your teeth. When it takes you a moment too long to reply, Sukuna grunts questioningly again, pushing for an answer.

“I just…” you stall, scratching your shoulder. “I shouldn’t still be a virgin at this age, right?”

Somewhere under all of that snide overconfidence is a man who was raised right, in spite of all of his shortcomings and his belittling behaviour. His nose scrunches, his head shaking from side to side in short, disbelieving movements. “What? Who fucking cares, that’s your choice.” Then, something else dawns on him as he starts up again before you can answer. “Wait. You’re a virgin?”

“See, it does matter! And whether it’s Satoru, or any other guy, they’re just gonna think I’m a prude or something because I haven’t–”

Running a hand over the faint stubble along his chin, his jaw briefly hangs open as he listens to your retort. When you keep going, at last he interrupts. “No, it doesn’t matter.” He pauses, pinning you in place with adamance. “The reason I’m asking is because I want to make sure you actually want to do this shit with me,” he states plainly, no amount of teasing present in the serious gaze he fixes you with. “I’m not fucking around when it comes to boundaries and consent.”

As much as his condescension and total righteousness is frustrating, you can appreciate his ability to be serious when there’s a need. At least he has a couple of redeeming qualities under all of those layers of snide narcissism.

Shutting your eyes as you try to formulate an answer, you give a short shake of your head. “Look,” you sigh, waving a hand through the air as your lashes flutter. “I don’t know what possessed me to choose you,” you begin, earning a snide huff from the other party, “but I wanna do this. I’ve tried dating apps and things but I feel like it’s so hard to meet people organically and I finally found someone I really like, so I just don’t wanna mess things up with Satoru, okay?” Your shoulders hang as his expression remains largely unreadable.

Your closing remark has your co-worker dragging his hands down his face. When he finally drops them to his sides with a plop as they hit the denim of his jeans, he gives a haphazard shrug. “All this for that asshole,” he mutters. “Why start with an arrangement like this, anyway? Why not go to the bar if you’re so against dating apps? It’s not like some one night stand means anything either.”

You grimace. “I want someone I trust.”

He won’t admit it, but it’s humbling to a man like Sukuna. Not because he doesn’t think of himself as trustworthy, but because he’s given you no real reason to put so much of your trust in him. He’s been cruel from the start and only a few days ago was reminding you that no matter your deal, you aren’t friends.

He’s still for a long time, a genuine disgruntled frown unrelenting. 

“Fine,” he gruffs at last. “For the record though, Satoru wouldn’t care that you’re a virgin. If he did, he’d be a piece of shit.”

If only your mind would wrap itself around that concept. Twenty some-odd years on an earth that treats virginity– particularly at your age– as taboo has taught you otherwise.

“Oddly insightful from you.”

Displeased as you throw snide commentary back at him, he takes another step forward. “No matter what you think of me, I wasn’t raised wrong.” His tone is low, almost dangerous, and you’re surprised when warmth spreads to the pit of your stomach. You’re grateful he’s already turned back to his laptop as you find yourself blinking at nothing in particular. “What did you want to try anyway? And you’re buying, FYI. This is for you, not me.”

You hum thoughtfully as you find yourself staring between the gaps in the shelves at the far end of the story. Your gaze briefly stops upon reaching the vibrators, which feels like a fairly low barrier of entry. 

“A vibrator?” You query.

Sukuna, leaning over the counter on his elbows with his back facing you, rolls a muscle in his shoulder. “Sure.”

His lack of enthusiasm has you grimacing. “We get an employee discount, right?”

“Half-off.”

“That’s pretty good,” you comment in an attempt to make conversation as you slip out from the counter and walk to the wall to look over options.

He hums his agreement, typing as his eyes skim whatever project he’s working on.

Taking the hint, you let your attention drift back to the wall of silicone and plastic. Although there are a variety of different options, you’d made up your mind a while ago upon hearing Sukuna’s explanation.

With a small black bullet vibrator in a discreet box with a purple-blue gradient in-hand, you make your way back to the counter, setting it aside. Whether out of curiosity or a subconscious movement, Sukuna’s attention flips to you as he evaluates the box on the counter. He languidly shoots you a glance before you fall into nothing more than background noise for him once again. You don’t get much of an idea of his thoughts on your choice, if he has any.

And much like his silence on your choice, that’s how you spend the evening, aside from when he teaches you to close. Over the past month or so you’ve grown to find the dead air less and less uncomfortable and no longer feel the need to fill it. He still shoots you a disapproving side eye every time a customer asks a question that’s left to your anti-social co-worker because you can’t answer it, but it’s noticeably less harsh.

By, like, a fraction. He’s irritated still, but he’s not outright disappointed. 

You call that a win.

You’re pretty sure your friends back home would call it sad.

But you can’t talk to Yuki or Choso about your arrangement with Sukuna anyway, so you suppose it’s not worth thinking too hard about it.

By the time you’re flipping the open sign and turning the lock on the door, Sukuna is ringing up the vibrator you chose, along with a bottle of something you didn’t add. He slides the payment terminal towards you as you make your way back. You don’t question his judgement upon finding the label to say toy cleaner. With your card in-hand, you find yourself hovering hesitantly over the payment terminal.

The question atop your tongue feels stupid.

“What?” Sukuna gruffs when you don’t speak your mind.

“Is this… a good choice?”

He sucks in a breath, measured. “It’s a fine first choice. It’s kinda cheap, but it’s a good starting point.”

“I know the quality and how long it’ll last would be affected, but does how cheap it is affect much beyond those two things?”

Another breath, but it’s equally measured. He picks up the box, his gaze darting across the lettering that covers it. “If it was your only toy, I’d say to invest in something better, but if we’re trying a lot, cheap is fine.” His mild expression seems to pick you apart when you’re faced with sanguine irises that flicker across your face. There’s the faintest hint of an upward quirk of his lips when he catches your pout.

“You never actually answered my question,” you mumble snarkily, snatching the box back from him.

No longer tempering his amusement, he shifts to the other foot with a full-blown smirk. “It’s a cheaper plastic or silicone. Less durable, the motor inside will give out quicker, and the battery won’t last as long. It’s louder than more expensive ones, too.” He glances at the box, a thoughtful narrow to his eyes. “It probably runs on watch batteries, which get expensive the more you go through.”

You recall him mentioning that to a customer, but given the circumstance, you suppose he’s right that it won’t matter. Nodding, you tap your card without another thought. He takes a bit of extra time to show you the remaining closing procedures which feels less like a courtesy and more like a curse given that you run on his clock at his will now, but you suppose a couple of extra hours won’t hurt here and there.

Even if you won’t be paid.

Shutting off the lights at the back, you make your way to the door where he waits. “So,” you start, digging through your bag for your keys, “my place is pretty noisy, should we–”

“Where do you live?”

“Oh, uh– I’m next to the station on third street.”

“Good. Meet me at the pub on the corner.”

You blink as he tosses you the store keys, barely managing to catch them in clumsy fingers. Before you can even protest, he’s already getting into the old but well-maintained black Honda across the street.

“O-kay,” you mutter to yourself, turning back to the door as you pull down the security shutter, locking both it and the glass door. His engine has already rumbled long into the distance by the time you finish fiddling with the old finicky locks and get in your beat-up vehicle. “You have to wait for me anyway, asshole.” Your muttering somehow feels better left for the world to hear rather than internalized.

The ride to the coffee shop has you once again replaying every life decision that brought you to this point in life. Maybe you should have given time to that guy who was trying to flirt with you in the library. Then again, you were studying for your final. Maybe you should have indulged the man who told you that you were pretty at a karaoke bar once. Well, no, he was creepy.

You’ve just been focusing on yourself and your fingers have done the trick anytime you were horny.

Not to mention, you can’t help but find that you don’t see yourself in porn and it doesn’t leave you feeling satisfied. That’s not even beginning to mention that much of what you found feels performative, which doesn’t cut it at an adult shop.

Though, that’s a lie too. Because at the end of the day although you are curious and this is something that you’re intrigued by given your environment lately, you’re equally hoping to impress Satoru.

Maybe Sukuna’s right that you should just tell him.

But that also feels like an uphill battle.

Stupid. This whole thing has you feeling like you’re overthinking everything and in an effort to stop thinking so damn much, you shut your car off and push into the pub.

Sukuna’s sitting in a booth at the back, already nursing a drink in one hand. His opposite arm is lazily strewn across the back of the booth, his gaze following you with that striking intensity that never fails to make your hair stand on end. Slipping in across from him, you watch as he leans back, completely at ease. As much as his arrogance can piss you off, his ability to remain calm and even puts out any fires your nerves threaten to stoke.

“Want anything?” He asks, jutting his chin towards the drink menu. Curiously, you flip to the first page before Sukuna’s hand comes down authoritatively, stopping you from browsing the menu he just offered. He flips to the back page confidently. “Non-alcoholic only.”

Fixing him with a scowl, you point towards his drink. “What are you drinking, then?”

He slides it an inch closer to you, an offer to test him. “Non-alcoholic IPA.” He lifts his hand from the menu, finally allowing you to browse your options as he leans back again. “We have rules to go over. Need your head on right and your consent after.”

As much as you don’t appreciate his commanding nature, you can admit it settles your nerves that he’s taking this seriously. He’s so flippant and dismissive when he wants to be that the soberness with which he’s treating the situation is reassuring.

In fact, it’s even a little hot, as much as you don’t even want to so much as think of the compliment. Truthfully though, you appreciate that he knows when to turn the damn attitude down.

Inhaling slowly, you look over the menu, waiting for the waiter to arrive. You order a Pepsi just for the sake of having something to hold and hide your fiddling as Sukuna’s gaze scarcely departs you.

“I thought we went over the rules already?” You ask when you finally have something to focus on. The condensation is cool against your fingers, a much-needed departure from the facetious personality across from you.

“Of the agreement, sure.” He starts, bringing his glass to his lips as he leans back casually. “But I’m not doing this without knowing what you want.”

“I thought I–”

He doesn’t give you the time of day, glass still held between his fingers as he leans forward on his forearm. “You want me in charge, yeah?”

You blink, nodding. 

“You understand that that puts me in a dominant position for our agreement, correct?”

Your cheeks warm as you nod again. “That’s kinda what I wanted,” you admit quietly.

He hums, a hint of his teeth gleaming behind a smirk. He lets the moment hang a second longer, basking in the way you squirm under his gaze. Throwing back what’s left of his drink, he sets the glass on the table with a dull clank. “Right,” he begins, “so you’ve never been with anyone before?” He asks, growing more serious again.

His ability to casually swing back and forth between both moods is beginning to piss you off.

“Yeah, you know that,” you reply snarkily.

His eyes narrow. “Not what I mean, sweetheart. You ever done anything with anyone? In any capacity?”

You chew on your lip briefly. “I gave a guy a handjob once,” you admit quietly, painfully aware of the public setting.

Sukuna’s eyes avert for a moment as he considers how to approach things. “That's it?”

“I– Yeah, can you stop asking?”

His throat bobs as he swallows, frowning. He lays his thoughts out plainly, straight to the point and without the arrogant attitude. “Think what you want of me, but I’m not trying to embarrass you. I already told you it doesn’t matter. I’m asking because it gives me a good sense of where to start.”

Sitting upright, you nod slowly.

“Do you masturbate?”

With every question, you swear your face gets warmer. “Yeah.”

“But no toys?”

“No.”

He rolls his jaw, prodding his tongue against the side of his mouth. “Alright. I can work with that. Do you know what you like when you touch yourself?”

“Do we have to do this somewhere so public?”

He snorts. “No one’s listening. The closest table is so sloshed you’d think it’s three in the morning,” he points out, motioning over your shoulder. Admittedly, he’s right. There’s a group of three women and two men all slumped over, eyes red-ringed and laughter bubbling from within. 

With a sigh, you turn back to him. “Fine. So what rules do we need to go over, then?”

“I need to know what’s completely off-limits for you.” He taps a finger once on the table. “I’m kinky but there’s shit I’m not into either.”

“Okay, um,” you take a moment to consider the toys lining the walls and some of the porn you’ve seen while browsing. “I don’t know, I guess I don’t think I’d be into whips or spanking.” Sukuna hums. “I know the candles are for… wax play, right?”

“Mhm. Some people like the pain.”

“I don’t think I would want anything painful.”

He nods his agreement. “Anything like that is off the table.”

Tapping your nails along the sides of your glass, you wrack your brain of the items that line the walls at work. “I don’t think I’m into collars or muzzles or anything.”

“Alright. No pet play. You not into being tied up, or just the pet part?”

Your hesitation is brief as you consider the difference. “I think I’d be okay with being tied up,” you muse. “Not yet, but–” you shrug, cracking a smile. “It sounds kinda fun.”

Sukuna smirks. “She’s a little kinky, I like it.” His lidded expression sends heat up the back of your neck and straight to the pit of your stomach. You adjust the way you’re seated, crossing one leg over the other as you focus on the glass in front of you. Amused, your counterpart pushes for details. “What about gags, handcuffs, and blindfolds?”

“I’d be open to those.”

His smirk grows, teeth bared just enough to call it a grin. “Alright. No whips, and pet and pain play are past the ceiling. Anything more intense than that’s off the table, yeah?”

You nod, grateful that he isn’t leaving you to try to come up with things when you’re scarcely familiar with the products at your own job.

“Hair pulling? Choking?”

You take a moment to consider it, but nod. “That’s fine.”

That seems to be the majority of his questions as he leans back in his seat again, stretching his arms overhead. He has that same expression from the day you originally made the agreement, the one that makes you feel like you’re no longer background noise in his world. Like you’ve surprised him and he’s willing to humor you.

“Alright. Anything else we can go over if it comes up,” he shrugs. “I just needed a baseline.” Yawning, he takes a moment to let his thoughts settle as he works out details in his mind. It gives you a moment to reset, gratefully taking the opportunity as you lean back in your seat, no longer fixated on your glass.

It occurs to you in that moment that he’s surprisingly quelled your nerves. You can’t place whether it’s through making a point of doing this in a public setting but ensuring this stays between you, or the way he’s actually maneuvering this conversation in a way that makes you feel open and in charge. Either way, you have to hand it to him that for a guy who’s made it clear he isn’t fond of people, he’s good with them. With you.

He spends a moment thinking things through before at last continuing. “Are you familiar with the traffic light safe word system?”

You meet his gaze, shaking your head.

“I need you to understand that even if I’m the dom, your word is my law. You tell me green and you leave shit in my hands to make you feel good. You tell me yellow and we’ll stop for a bit to figure out what you don’t like or what doesn’t feel good. You tell me red and my hands are off of you. What you say goes, you understand?” He leans forward with an intensity that seeps straight to your bones.

“Okay. I understand.”

“Good.” His shoulders rise and fall as he sucks in a breath, letting it out gradually. “And for the record, no kissing. No making out. No sex.”

As he repeats his rules, you press your lips into a thin line at how much he loves to remind you that you aren’t friends and these aren’t benefits. “You mentioned.”

“I’ll take my shirt off if it makes you comfortable, but that’s all you’re getting from me.”

“How sweet,” you comment dryly as he completely ignores your previous retort.

He grins, shrugging like the chivalrous man he is. “You didn’t ask for love, sweetheart.”

“And if I had?”

His grin stays in place, his chin lifting an inch as he regards you with the kind of expression only someone as conceited as Sukuna himself can manage. “Then you’d be switching to morning shifts.”

You want to roll your eyes, but you can at least respect his honesty, even if it’s painfully self-centered. You suppose it’s in part why trust comes easily with him. It’s not out of respect or friendship, but rather the simple fact that he doesn’t sugarcoat things. For better or for worse, he means what he says and has nothing to hide.

Jutting his chin in a motion to your nearly-finished glass, he keeps that painfully smug expression as he gruffs out a question. “Ready to go?”

Downing the last of your drink, you nod as you make your way to the bartender. She rings up your drinks together, only for Sukuna to step aside for you to pay.

Chivalry might just be dead, after all.

Your counterpart shoves his hands into his pockets with a haughty smirk, watching every micro expression cross your face as realization tents your brow, before twisting into a glare. Sukuna’s gait is entirely casual as his boots hit the pavement outside. When he comes to a halt by his car, his hand settles on the roof. “Send me your address,” are his last words before he ducks into the driver’s seat. The engine rumbles on and his music begins in an instant, a booming bassline that’s faintly familiar, but it’s too muffled to make out.

Sucking in a breath, you let the music fade as you head for your car, sending him your address just around the corner. You take an extra moment to make it to your car, breathing in the cool summer night air. The ever-present murky smell of smog hits you the moment the sharp scent of alcohol dissipates, but you’ve grown accustomed to it by now. The air on your skin is refreshing, and gives you a moment to think.

In spite of his frustrating tendencies, Sukuna treats sex– in all forms– differently from the men you’re used to. Not just men, but everyone. Even your closest friends. It’s not an expectation, it’s not something that requires any pressure. It’s whatever you want it to be, and whatever you’re comfortable with.

You appreciate the fact that in spite of you wanting him to take charge, this is all still at your beck and call. Sukuna says everything like it is. As much as you despise that for how plainly he’ll point out any fault the moment he finds it or throw you under the bus in a heartbeat when he sees himself as a man who’s always in the right, you appreciate the fact that he doesn’t make things into a spectacle either.

How many parties have you been to where ‘never have I ever’ turned into a wave of judgement, or a game where you found yourself lying to avoid it? How many times have you avoided parties altogether, hating the way all concepts surrounding you seemed to change over something that shouldn’t be everything it’s so often perceived as?

Hell, growing up in an era where sex was perceived as something cool and sold to adults through media only to be thrust into a new era where censorship is pushed more than education, it was bound to twist the perception around virginity.

Your own insecurity is an unfortunate side effect of those two very things clashing with one another. Just like your insecurity in the impression you’ve given Satoru, regardless of if you’ve actually spoken to him or not.

Which is why Sukuna’s attitude around sex is a breath of fresh air. There’s no judgement from him that you’ve abstained for so long.

And for that, you find yourself excited as you pull up to your house.

The man in question is parked before you even arrive, standing at the brick staircase by the time you lock your vehicle. The three-story building towers overhead, yet he still looks big at the base of the stairs.

His arms are crossed as he leans back casually, eyes on his phone. The racing jacket he sports hangs heavily over his broad shoulders. It looks like a replica F1 jacket of sorts, and in spite of its large size, the muscle definition beneath the tank top clinging to his skin is still obvious. It’s almost unfair that he’s so attractive and such a dick.

Just as the thought crosses your mind, his crimson eyes lift from his phone screen. He pockets it, looking you up and down once before letting you lead the way. You pull the front gate open without a word, unlocking the inner door and shutting it to latch behind you. Your apartment resides on the second floor, a single room backing onto the subway. Convenient, but noisy as all hell.

You like to think of it as the epitome of what it means to chase your dream, but in reality you know it’s little more than measly tape to cover up the fact that it feels more like failure. You’ve only been here for a couple of months and played at a couple of crappy venues that didn’t turn out well and you aren’t about to give up now, but your apartment fails to feel like home.

When you flick the lights on, it gives a warm glow to the run-down apartment.

“Make yourself at home,” you offer of the small space. It’s nothing more than a studio with a bathroom. A kitchenette sits at your immediate left with a microwave, fridge, and a single plug-in hot-plate, while your bed is pushed into the corner at the back. You’ve managed to fit a small TV on a table in the corner, and a tiny couch beside it, but that’s about all there is to see of your small space. Wallpaper peels at the top corners and there are stains and scrapes over the old wooden floor that could very well be older than you.

You’ve done what you can with the space. Over the couch is a number of signed and framed band posters and by the TV sits a cork board with memorabilia pinned to it. Old concert ticket stubs, set lists, and guitar picks all pinned or clipped in place. A lamp sits behind the TV in the corner that makes the space feel more warm, giving light to the two gaming systems sitting under the table. It’s not perfect, but it’s very you.

As you set your keys and bag on what little counter space you have, Sukuna takes in the sight of the small space, his gaze lingering on the signed posters and memorabilia before landing on your guitar, leaning against the couch haphazardly.

“You’re a concert girl?” He queries. It’s hard to get a read on where the question comes from when his tone lacks any real interest or enthusiasm.

“When I could afford it,” you agree with a wry laugh.

He hums, kicking his shoes off and dropping his jacket beside your guitar on the couch. He plops down on the double bed, picking up a drumstick sat on the small night stand wedged between the bed and the tiny table the TV sits atop. He twirls it on a finger as he continues to look around while you fiddle with the box for the bullet vibrator you got, picking at the tape keeping it shut.

Like a sixth sense, your hair stands on-end when his striking gaze settles on you again. He continues to fiddle with the drumstick, but his expression is otherwise unreadable. His slightly narrowed gaze gives you the idea that something is on his mind. “What?”

“Just thinking,” he mutters, his gaze dropping the full length of your body again.

Standing still at the counter, you chew on the inside of your cheek as he checks you out. Or something similar to that. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew this question would arise. A part of you had hoped to avoid it, but given the nature of your agreement with Sukuna, the question doesn’t bother you as much as it might from someone else.

“I won’t be offended, you know.”

The drumstick stills in Sukuna’s fingers. “About what?”

“If you ask.”

“Can you be fucking direct?” He sneers, his eyes narrowed to pinpricks as he fixes you with the kind of gaze that would have made your skin crawl a month ago. Back then, you would have taken it for genuine frustration, but you know now that this is a man who finds pleasure in the fact that one look can make someone avert their gaze.

But you don’t budge, turning to face him with the bullet vibe in-hand. “You wanna know why I’m still a virgin if I’m open enough to ask you for this arrangement.”

You can’t blame him. You get the feeling you’re a year or two older than him based on the fact that you graduated already and he’s in his last year. Your reply even seems to intrigue him as he leans forward just enough to show interest. You have his attention, although he doesn’t say it. He may not judge you for it, but you certainly can’t blame him for being curious. After all, your request was a bold one in the first place.

With a sigh, you set the toy on the counter as you manage to free it from its packaging. “You know how I told you I’m from a small town?”

“Mhm.”

“How small do you think I meant?”

He shrugs, having clearly never considered the question. “Ten thousand,” he throws out a haphazard guess.

“Four hundred people.”

His nose wrinkles at the mere thought. Fitting for a guy who seems well-versed in navigating life in a massive city.

“So my options kinda sucked with guys my age,” you laugh dryly, returning to the counter where you set the toy down. You turn to him suddenly, a finger held out pointedly towards his chest. “Don’t even get me started on the older men.”

He snorts, barely more than a push of air from his nostrils that gives way to his amusement.

“It was one of those roadside attraction towns where our whole thing was like,” you wave a hand through the air, looking for the right words to describe it. “Having one of those weird statues or whatever that people will pull over to see.”

“Yeah? So what weird thing did you have, then?”

You crack a smile. “The world’s largest garden gnome.”

He blinks in disbelief, in sudden understanding of the whole situation. One single garden gnome painting a whole picture of who you are and how you grew up. “Damn. That blows.” There’s something so strangely friendly in the interaction that’s unbefitting of everything he is, but for a moment you forget this is Sukuna you’re speaking with.

You laugh. “Yeah. It’s not even the world’s largest anymore from what I’ve been told. So now we’re the ‘original’,” you make finger quotations in the air, “world’s largest garden gnome.”

He snorts again, pushing a hand back through his hair. “No wonder you like punk music. You did need to get out of your town.”

You surprise even yourself at how heartily you laugh. When he’s not being a stick-in-the-mud, it turns out he’s kinda funny. In fact, when he isn’t acting like he’s above you, there’s even a sort of warmth to him that you don’t mind. Whether it’s a public front and he’s dropped the curtain for a moment or he’s growing more comfortable with you is yet to be determined.

Or maybe this is like a one time event that you were lucky enough to witness.

“You must have gone to the city pretty often if you go to a lot of concerts,” he muses. “No interest in hooking up with a guy or doing this shit with someone before now?”

You frown, glancing up from the instructions on the bottle of toy cleaner as you loosely skim them. “I never really considered any of this until the shop. And I’d rather be with someone I know.”

He grunts in irritation before you even finish the first sentence, but he lets it go by the time you finish. At least his frustration with you is purely on a work level. “You don’t know me,” he points out. “You don’t know jack shit about how I am in bed and you barely know me outside of it.”

“I trust you, though.”

His gaze drifts to the floor, something stoic passing over his expression as he allows the thought to sink in. “You trust me,” he parrots dryly, for no other reason than to solidify them for himself. You open your mouth to elaborate, but he’s already talking over you before you can spit out a second word. Infuriating man. “Right. And now you want me to show you the ropes–” he pauses at the irony of his statement, a smug smirk returning to his lips. “Literally.” He stands up from your bed, tossing the drumstick aside in the midst of his amusement.

With a roll of your eyes, you stop whatever narcissistic or teasing comment was about to leave his parted lips, steering the conversation another way before he’s too frustrating to handle. “I can make a guess.”

Sukuna pauses, stepping towards you with curiosity. “About–” he raises his brows. “What I’m like? In general, or in bed?”

“Both,” you shrug. “You like to be in charge. You like to have someone who’s willing to admit that you’re better at something and you like to be mean about it. You like when people feel small around you, it makes your ego feel good like the big man that you are.”

Where you expect offense, you only find amusement, which unfortunately isn’t in your favor either. At the end of the day, he’s still running this interaction like he owns it. His head tilts, his grin unrelenting. The way the muscle shirt he sports clings to his chest as it rises and falls feels unfair. He’s a tease without trying, all because he has the fortune of being hot. “Oh?” His voice comes low, a grit to it that sends heat between your thighs. “Are we guessing, or psychoanalyzing?”

You shrug. “It can be whatever you want.”

His gaze flickers around your face as you move past him to the spot where he was just seated. The amusement laced through sanguine eyes as he watches you sits under your skin in the kind of way that has you grimacing. The way he picks you apart so effortlessly is a shadow compared to the pile of things about him that frustrate you, but you hate the way it gets under your skin.

He has no issues making himself at home either, moving his jacket aside so he can manspread obnoxiously on the couch across from your bed. Your brows tent downwards as he doesn’t hesitate to reach for your guitar either, as though he knows that, too, will get under your skin. “Here, I’ll move that.”

You dart towards him, picking the instrument up before his fingers can graze the neck, setting in on the stand it should have been on anyway. His brow quirks, head tilting as he watches your every movement. The way he moves through life so easily is grating.

When you take a seat again across from him on your bed, you tap your foot a couple of times on the worn wood below. It sounds hollow, even beneath your clothed feet. “So… What should we do?” You query, praying you can find a rhythm with him that makes everything more comfortable.

A smile curls at the corners of his lips. “I told you. You’re–”

His words come to a quick halt, expression twisting into disbelief and clear concern as your apartment rattles briefly, before the obvious noise of the subway passing behind the building follows, and the room settles as it comes to a stop. Unphased, you await his next words.

“You fucking live with that?”

You shrug. “Yeah. I uh– didn’t really realize it would be an issue until I moved in.”

A puff of air leaves his nose, his eyes trailing between you and the window where the train’s shadow cast across the floor moments ago. “How the fuck do you sleep? The subways run all night.”

“They’re less frequent at night,” you offer.

“How the fuck do you get off with that noise?”

Worrying your lower lip between your teeth, you shrug. “It’s just background noise.”

Sukuna hangs in a state of disbelief for a moment, crimson boring into you like even he’s questioning how the fuck he got here now. When the moment settles, he runs his tongue over his teeth and shakes his head, muttering a curse under his breath. “You’re something.”

“Thanks,” you reply dryly. The nerves of opening yourself up to someone buzz more as you draw Sukuna’s attention away from the train. Your leg bounces involuntarily, a hollow thump to it as you wait for a reply to your question, no matter how snarky it’ll inevitably be.

But the arrogance never comes. His eyes flicker down to your leg, the previous curl of his lips gone and replaced with something far more staid. With a hand on the couch’s armrest, he moves across the small room with ease, his large frame casting a long shadow over the floor as he blocks the lamplight. Your heart pumps hard against its cage, jumping to your throat when his palm settles on your leg, pressing it to the hardwood to stop its pace.

“Relax.” His voice has a sultry tone that feels foreign to you yet lived-in, like he knows just how to pitch his voice to send it like a shock straight to your stomach. You shift at the sensation, drawn to his gaze as he leans in with a brazen chuckle, clearly pleased that he can affect you in such a way. “Stop talking. Stop thinking. About all of this shit. About me, about the job, the money, the train. Turn your brain off.”

He’s right, painfully so, about every little thing on your mind. But the most relief you usually get is a warm cup of tea on a cool night, and even then it’s disturbed by a train every few minutes. It’s not like you haven’t masturbated, particularly since starting at the shop, but your brain always seems to need something to latch onto and porn feels so performative you can’t get into it.

Sukuna gives you something to focus on, taking the bullet vibrator from within your fidgeting hands as his other hand glides from your thigh to your torso over your shirt. His thumb frames your breast, the sensation sending a shiver straight up your spine. He uses just enough force that you could call the pressure he uses to guide you back onto your bed a ‘suggestion’ rather than a command.

“Give me a color.”

“Green.”

“Good,” he hums, low and smug as you watch his smirk grow into something painfully self-assured and egotistical as he flashes his teeth. You don’t have time to be annoyed when your lashes are already fluttering as he drags the bullet vibrator in his palm over your clothed pussy with just enough pressure that your breath catches. “And it’s not even on yet,” he purrs in that ever-condescending tone.

“I should have asked someone less–”

He grinds the vibrator against your clit in an effort to stifle your attitude, shooting you a smug smirk when it works. “But you didn’t.”

Your scowl barely has a chance to form before it dissipates as he glides a thumb beneath your shirt. The sensation has you shivering as he scrutinizes every micro expression you make when his thumb glides over the sensitive skin of your bare stomach. Goosebumps rise in its stead, inevitable as your body reacts to the sensation. You jolt when his touch is so feather-light that it feels more ticklish than something sensual, and like everything else he picks it up and files it away for later.

When he stops at your hipbone and dips two fingers beneath your waistband, you instinctively suck in a breath, stiffening. His movement pauses, eyes narrowing as he fixes you with a sharp gaze that you recognize as instruction.

“Green,” you breathe.

Something smug in his expression has you swallowing your pride at the realization that submission came easily. He’s too keen to have not noticed how you’re not running your mouth anymore, and you don’t need to read between the lines to know that he enjoys that fact.

With your consent, two fingers drag your pants down, haplessly discarded as his gaze trails the length of your legs slowly. You can’t make out what he’s thinking, your hair standing on end as some part of you longs for warmth in a partner who might revere you, but that isn’t what you asked for. It’s not who Sukuna is.

When his eyes meet yours, they narrow an ounce. “Stop worrying,” he admonishes the thoughts he seems to be able to sense as though your insecurities are written in the air for him to see. It warms your cheeks further than they already are. When he catches the twitch of your brow, whether it’s a tell that he’s correct or some bratty form of defiance, he brings a hand to your jaw, his thumb and finger forcing you to keep his gaze. “I’m serious. Bodies are all different, and–”

“That doesn’t make me feel better, Suku–”

His thumb and finger shift until he’s pressing your cheeks together to shut up your protests. “Everyone is different. You should be. Stop fucking worrying.” He loosens his grip enough to allow you to nod, no longer pursing your lips. “Focus on my hands. Focus on the feeling. Don’t think about the fucking train that’s gonna pass in three minutes. Don’t distract yourself.”

He releases your face, shifting his hand until he’s prodding your abdomen pointedly with a finger. He waits for your gaze to follow before continuing.

“Masturbation is one thing because you know exactly what you want and can make yourself finish quickly, but bringing another person into things changes how your body and brain work.” He moves his hand back to the bed as he leans over you, watching with a faint smirk as the other hand presses the small vibrator, still off, into your clit and you take in a sharp breath. “If you get distracted by all the dumb shit going through your head and don’t stay focused on how you’re feeling, your body won’t let you cum. You’ll go straight into overstimulation without orgasm, or your body just won’t respond. It’s common as shit and a lot of people don’t think they can cum with a partner.”

You blink at how strangely insightful and educational the tattooed prick can actually be. Your shoulders fall into the mattress as you focus on the pressure of the hard silicone pressed into your clothed pussy.

There’s another side to it as well that has your mind ready to reel into something far more tangential, as much as you know you should listen to his advice. The fact is that the very same man who told you not to expect love or care from him is sitting here reassuring you, all the while explaining to you just how much he understands the human body. It’s not just from a biological or fact-driven perspective either, he’s putting your pleasure first.

Sure, it’s worth acknowledging that at the end of the day your arrangement does revolve around your pleasure, but Sukuna’s not just insightful. In one way or another, it’s caring. Whether he wants to acknowledge it or not, you’ve heard horror stories of men not being able to find the clit and it’s driven you further into insecurity surrounding the very concept of sex as someone with no experience.

Sukuna isn’t just skilled or good as you’re sure he’ll put it. He’s put time into this. Not just the kind that comes with being with people, but the kind that comes with research and education.

You knew he could talk about toys without batting an eye.

This is deeper.

He flicks your forehead, eyes flashing with irritation as you protest with a yelp. “What did I just tell you?”

“You’re just kinda being sweet,” you excuse yourself, blinking at him from where he’s crouched over your lower torso.

Something flashes in his eyes. “Don’t fucking mistake being good at what I do for sweetness.” His lip curls, the word dripping in disgust like the very concept is venomous to him. “Or do I need to remind you that this is a fucking deal and the moment this shit’s over you’re nothing more than my co-worker who doesn’t know fuck-all about the product?”

You let out a disbelieving scoff at the way he manages to kill the vibe entirely over what you might consider a compliment. “You’re right. You’re a dick.”

He straightens as he takes command of the situation once more, making himself look bigger as he leans over you. He shifts the reins like he owns your every reaction and can predict the situation. With a flick of his thumb, he turns the bullet vibe on, the vibration a sudden and intense sensation even over your panties. It’s a stark contrast to what your fingers feel like.

“Now stop thinking.” He drags the vibrator from your clit back across your clothed slit, your lips parting as you arch into the sensation.

“How am I supposed to focus when you’re being such an ass?” You grit in spite of the pleasure.

“Now you know why I’m good at this shit.”

He drops the attitude again as he manages to turn you on without the sensual touch or words of a partner, but rather through other methods.

Keeping a steady, albeit low vibration setting over your clit through your panties, he slips a hand under your shirt again. His thumb glides smoothly over your nipple, raising goosebumps along with his calloused touch. Sharp crimson eyes fix on the way your gaze finally shifts from his movements to the ceiling, your hands reaching for the blanket laying over the mattress. Your fingers curl into the cotton as all thoughts of insecurity and Sukuna’s attitude finally dissipate and all you’re left with is a tingling sensation that spreads warmly to your extremities.

“Thaaat’s it,” he guides you in a low tone that acts like sparks in your mind, kindling a fire that burns out whatever last thoughts served as a distraction. At last it’s just you and the sensation of his finger circling your nipple, slow and sensual as he takes the time needed to work your body up to a point where the vibrator won’t be too much.

The mattress dips as Sukuna shifts, his footsteps lost on you as the train passes by the window. It’s nothing more than background noise with your exterior senses dulled to focus only on touch. You blink at the tattooed man as the noise of the vibrator is silenced, lidded eyes watching his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties.

“Color?”

You swallow hard. His gaze lowers as he watches the movement, every tiny detail catalogued as he reads your reaction.

“Green,” you reply, breathless.

He gives a nod, fixed still on your expression when he gives the first tug. On instinct your legs twitch to close, so he guides you through the nerves rather than ignoring them. “You’re good,” he gruffs. It’s not soothing, but somehow it settles a modicum of the uncertainty that comes with putting your trust in someone else in such a vulnerable way.

Once they’re over your knees, he tugs the panties off, sending them across the room.

You still can’t help instinctively trying to hide yourself from him, squeezing the blanket tighter between your fingers as the cool air of your apartment reaches your dripping core.

“You want my shirt off?”

The question hangs before you, eyes dipping down to the black muscle shirt he sports, tight over his built chest. It’s the kind of thing you would spot at a gym, but it’s just loose enough over the rest of his torso that it looks less like he’s showing off and more like he effortlessly owns the look and everyone else is just mirroring him.

Pulling your lower lip between your teeth, you nod. When you meet his gaze again, it’s smug. He knows every last word that just ran through your head like he’s heard it before and the thought should piss you off, but you can’t be too bothered when he sets the vibrator on your abdomen and grabs the hem of his shirt with crossed arms. He pulls it up over his head with intention, flexing his biceps as he does so and sets it aside. Conveniently, his shirt doesn’t fly across the room.

The tattoos that curl around the sides of his neck snake over his shoulders in thick off-black lines that curve over his pecks. There are another set of bands similar to his wrists on his upper biceps and circles at his shoulders. They sharpen the persona given off by his intense egoism and dyed black hair, but they also accentuate his muscles in the kind of way that has your pupils dilating as you trail over the lines before falling to his abs.

As if that sight isn’t a show enough, at the base of his abdomen is a snail trail that you fix on just enough to earn a chuckle. It’s startlingly pink, matching the roots you spot every few weeks when they grow out.

Your hips shift as your stomach clenches at the sight. The cool air makes it obvious how turned on you are, and when you look back up, Sukuna is smirking. You’re feeding his ego more than you could know.

Satisfied with your reaction, he settles both hands on your thighs, slowly pulling them apart. Exposed to him once again, you find that action has surprisingly replaced your nerves with something far more debauched that has your mind racing.

This time, in all the right ways.

When your legs stay spread, he picks the vibrator back up, flicking it back on in one deft movement. The bed dips when he settles between your legs, dragging the vibrator through wet folds and over your clit, you arch into it with a soft moan. “Now you’re getting it,” he smirks as at last you let go of the endless stress of thoughts and give in to pleasure. “A bullet vibe is too small for much else besides placing direct pressure on the clit,” he explains as though your mind isn’t on another plane. “So it works best with other forms of stimulation.”

He keeps the small vibrator pressed directly to your clit. Your head falls back into the mattress, balling the fabric of your blankets up into your fists.

“You gotta work with me if you want this shit to work,” he continues, his hand pressing your thigh down when he adds additional pressure to the vibrator and your legs jolt shut on instinct. “What feels good?”

“I– hah–” You blink, cloudy eyes fluttering open to drag across the ceiling until they find his gaze, impossibly red and horribly smug as a moan tears your words apart. “The pressure is nice.”

“Nice?” He parrots the word, dripping in amusement. “I’m using a vibrator on you, don’t mince your words.”

You arch into the sensation in spite of his chatter, but he pulls away when you don’t reply immediately. Swallowing hard, you adjust your grip on the blankets and blink as your mind reels trying to catch up to what he wants. “It gets me a lot closer when you press it into my clit.”

He hums.

“But it’s kinda nice when you take it away too, makes the feeling l-last longer,” you stammer over the sentence when he tests your words, pulling it away for a moment. Your hips jolt, but the sensation is nice.

Vibration isn’t like your fingers. It’s far more intense and works you to the edge quicker when Sukuna knows how to maneuver the toy. “That’s called edging,” he gruffs, pulling the vibrator back as he waits for your eyes to meet his again. “This is a pretty tame form of it, but the human body wasn’t built for a vibrator so you’ll cum too fast if I don’t and it’s not as good.” You nod weakly, gaze flickering back down to the small device that he’s still holding away from your body. “Some people like being brought to the edge and coming down over and over, though. If that’s something you wanna try, that’s fine, but let me learn what you like first.”

You nod again, chewing on your lower lip as you buck your hips into his waiting hand.

He clicks his tongue, amused. “Eager.” Before you can retort with something equally cheeky, he presses the vibrator back to your clit as the stimulation curls through your body again, warm and welcome. It blossoms from your stomach to your chest until you can feel yourself teetering at the edge again, only for Sukuna to pull back. “Finger yourself.”

“What? Me?”

“You fucked stupid already?” Condescending prick. “Yeah, you. I told you, a bullet vibe works best with outside stimulation and I wanna see what you do to get off.”

You huff out a sigh, but your fingers slip from the blanket, down your body until you feel slick gather along your fingers. They’re cold, the thin windows giving way to a chill that seeps into your skin. The sensation has you sucking in a breath when they touch your skin, one finger slipping first between your folds, cool and pleasant, and then another. You work yourself open at a comfortable pace and adjust your hips until you find a rhythm and depth that feels nice, though it’s nothing compared to the vibrator.

“Could you cum just from that?”

“I don’t think so,” you breathe.

He hums in acknowledgement, pressing the vibrator with gradual pressure back into your clit. Your fingers stutter, pausing altogether. “Keep going,” he mutters. Even through the fog of bliss, you follow his instructions and keep the pace, your fingers curling into your walls as they begin to convulse around you.

Your breaths turn to soft, somewhat shy, moans with every second the vibrator spends pressed to your sensitive bundle of nerves. The world around you is fuzzy and you swear you can even hear the static that gathers at the edges of your vision. When your abdomen begins tensing and the rhythm of your fingers grows less accurate, more frantic, he uses more pressure to elicit the exact reaction he’s looking for. The sensation throws you over the edge without warning, hitting you in waves far more intense than the best orgasm with your fingers has ever given you.

As your body reacts to each wave of the orgasm, muscles clenching in time, the vibrator shifts slightly and the sensation heads straight into overstimulation. Sukuna reads the reaction and pulls away, letting you come down naturally. Your chest rises and falls heavily as you stare up at the rickety old ceiling.

Letting go and giving in entirely to the pleasure feels good. Your thoughts don’t race. There’s no constant stream of what needs to happen for the rest of the day or when you’ll head to the bar for your next gig. You’re just on cloud nine.

You feel Sukuna rise from between your legs. He moves around the apartment like he owns the place, opening the only door that doesn’t lead out without asking, and returning with a towel.

Pushing up onto your elbow, you hold out a hand expectantly, but Sukuna holds it out of reach. “No. I told you you’re not getting sweet, but I’m not leaving you without aftercare.” He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, folding the towel into something more manageable before holding it out for you to wipe your fingers on. “An arrangement like this,” he waves the folded towel haphazardly between you once you’re done with it, “means that the person in the dominant position should be helping clean up and make sure the sub is in the right headspace.” He speaks so matter-of-factly, you have a hard time believing this is the same guy who asked if you applied for the wrong job.

Tonal whiplash if you’ve ever heard it.

“If you ever have sex with someone who puts you in a submissive position and doesn’t give you aftercare, dump the prick.”

Truthfully, you’re not sure Sukuna has any right to call someone a prick, but you nod regardless. You’re not about to protest when he is cleaning you up and has gathered your panties and pants for you.

Once he’s satisfied, he sets the towel aside and pulls his shirt back over his head. He grabs you a glass of water as you cover yourself back up, and is surprisingly domestic as he checks in on you. “Feel good?”

“Yeah.”

“See what I mean when I say the bullet vibe is best with outside stimulation?”

You blink up at him from where he’s standing, a neutral expression plastered to his face as though nothing’s happened and there isn’t a tent in his pants. “Yeah, I guess.”

His eyes narrow, chin tilted up slightly. “You guess?”

“Sorry. I just don’t know what to do now.”

Unbothered, he simply nods, his gaze passing to the window as a train casts a dark shadow over the apartment, gone in a split second. He runs a hand through black strands of hair, revealing the pink at the roots before crossing his arms over his chest. “Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been… whatever we are, with someone.”

He snorts. “Can’t say I have either, sweetheart. Just talk with me until I know you’re back in a normal headspace. Tell me what worked and what didn’t.” He brings a hand up to his shoulder, rubbing the muscle along his back idly as he stands a short distance away.

Now fully clothed, you sit upright. “Okay.” Letting out a breath, you navigate the blissful fog still hanging over you in search of something to answer. “I appreciate that you took your shirt off,” you admit, heat climbing your spine as it curls up to your ears. You press on, grateful that he doesn’t make a big deal out of it in spite of his minute smirk. “I liked when you used pressure, but it was a lot when I came.”

He hums. “That’s overstimulation. Was it a lot in a bad way?”

Your brow knits together in thought. It was too much in the moment, but you don’t suppose you’d label it as bad. “No. Not exactly. Just too much.”

Shifting to the other foot, he considers your words. “Overstimulation is a pretty common kink. There’re a lot of people who like being pushed into that territory because it is a lot but the stimulation is also pleasurable and it can push you to cum again pretty quickly.”

“I think I saw that in some of the porn I tried watching.”

“I would say it’s one of the more common kinks in the kink community. Makes sense.”

You nod slowly, considering the sensation as you shift, your body still feeling particularly loose. “I think I’d try it.”

“Sure,” he agrees, seeming to only half pay attention when he pulls his phone out. A dim blue light illuminates the lower half of his face before he shoves it back in his pocket. “You seem good. Feeling alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Great. I’m leaving.” He turns abruptly on his heel, tossing his jacket over his shoulder as he makes his way to the door. “Clean the vibe,” he reminds you. “And don’t use it too often. We’re not built for electronics, we’re built for fingers. It’ll fry your nerves and regular stimulation won’t feel as good.”

You nod solemnly, his advice adding up. “Wait!” You call when his hand rests atop the old door knob, the golden paint chipping away as it gives up the facade of luxury. “You don’t want anything?”

“No.”

You shake your head. “Why did you agree to this, then?”

He pauses, turning fully to face you. His gaze travels to the darkened path over the wooden floor where enough steps have been taken that the wood has physically worn away. “It’s convenient,” he offers, “having you take my shifts. It’s…” he trails off for a moment, his tongue running over his lower lip. “It’s helpful, really.”

You’re shocked at the sincerity behind the admission, like in spite of how frustrating and egocentric he can be, he feels he owes you honesty.

“But you’re right.” He lets the words hang, pools of cerise washing intensely over you as your head tilts quizzically. He blinks as he searches for the words to put his thoughts together. “Look, it pisses me off that you applied to this job in the first place, but you’re here now and Jillian likes you.” He shrugs his shoulders. “There’s fuck-all I can do about that and you should have known this shit before applying.”

Your eyes narrow as he repeats something you’re getting real sick of hearing. You can’t say you’re sure how this goes with the statement ‘you’re right’, either.

“But this shit is hard to learn if you don’t have an in.” His hand leaves the door handle with a hollow metallic clang as he takes a step towards you. He’s still across the apartment, but it bridges a gap of sorts. “Sex is treated as something you’re not supposed to talk about and kinks are taboo. So finding resources brings you to all sorts of sketchy sites or outdated books because the resources surrounding it suck.” He shrugs. “You should have a way to learn and experiment without feeling stupid for not knowing shit or for asking questions.”

“You literally called me stupid for asking a question not even ten minutes ago,” you interject.

“I didn’t call you stupid. I asked if I’d already fucked you stupid, because the question was stupid.”

You throw your hands in the air at his brazen reply, in disbelief that he can somehow manage to be simultaneously the most frustrating man on earth and unusually open and honest on topics that deserve discussion.

“It’s not stupid to ask questions about sex, or toys, or rules, or anything that makes you more comfortable. It’s not stupid to ask questions about your body or ask me to adjust to something that feels better.” He begins his clarification as though it helps at all. “It’s stupid to ask who I meant when I said ‘finger yourself’ when you’re the only other person in the room,” he snorts, amused as you shoot him a deadpan expression. “And it’s stupid as all hell to apply to a store where you don’t have any fucking clue what we sell.”

“You’re–”

“Yeah, yeah. Save it for later.” He makes a quarter turn, hand on the handle again. “I gotta go. See you at work.”

And with that, he’s gone.

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౨ৎ a/n ; helloooo!! thank you all so much for all of the support :') i couldn't possibly have imagined all the love for this series, so it seriously means a lot.

i've gone for what i think is a fun writing challenge for myself in giving sukuna and reader both a very interesting dynamic, while also showing that sukuna's views on sex are very different than traditional ones bc of his line of work. we'll see more of satoru's perspectives as well and where those views come from!! reader, of course, struggles with insecurity in spite of the fact that she is bold and confident and slowly but surely we'll see more of that come into play in further chapters as well as where it comes from.

i hope you're enjoying it so far <33

౨ৎ taglist ; OPEN. age must be visible in bio. 18+ only. @lilrosyhaven @tiny-mimi @grimm3r @yujisredkicks @knittybritty98 @sukunahs @saezzi @epicderpface @ynishalee @pandabiene5115 @silibiliballs @ane5e @feyrinnn @jkslvsnella @maomimii @megumuro @beereadzzz @beaniesayshi @ryomeowie @suguusatoo @gojosoups @yenayaps @m3owr3ow @tohru-tales @crimzie129 @lostgxrlblog @sterzin @scaraamo @sunyomz @norahlolzz @whateverineedsblog @buttclencher28 @blueemochii @pequnopastel @cupidxml @saintdilucc @officiallydrunk @yvannaille @brazzigy @ilovebeansyay @deewrites01 @martianzmars @volleyballgirl2022 @mtchamnsta @astrokenny @ge3ked @ri-sa20 @heichouaack @iluvgetosuguru @winkii

“You done?” you asked quietly.

Sukuna swallowed. His throat actually fucking hurt.

“No.”

Your laugh came out broken. Small. “What else is there to say?”

Everything. Too much. Not enough.

The problem was Sukuna had never learned how to explain himself without sounding angry. Even now, his jaw was tight enough to crack teeth apart. His huge frame stood frozen near the front door like he didn’t know if he was allowed any closer.

Because he probably wasn’t. The image kept replaying in his head. You're calling him over and over. Him ignoring every single fucking call like an idiot. The bar and Yorozu hanging all over him.

His arm around her waist because he was drunk and pissed and stupid and wanted to hurt you after the fight. 

And then your face when you walked in.

Jesus Christ.

He’d seen people die before and somehow that look still haunted him worse.

“I said I was sorry,” he muttered hoarsely.

You finally looked at him then. Red eyes. Wet cheeks. “Sorry doesn’t erase it.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” your voice cracked. “Because I don’t think you get it, Sukuna.”

His stomach twisted violently hearing his name like that.

Not Ryo.

Not even Ryomen.

Just Sukuna. Cold and distant, as if you were referring to a stranger.

“You embarrassed me,” you whispered. “You humiliated me.” 

His chest caved inward.“I know.”

“You made me feel stupid for loving you.”

That one physically made him flinch, actually flinch. You noticed too because your face crumpled for half a second before hardening again. Good. He deserved it.

Sukuna dragged a hand down his face hard enough to redden the skin. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“That’s the problem.”

Silence. 

The constant drum of rain, the sound of your uneven breathing. He couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t fucking breathe in it.

“You think I wanted her?” he snapped suddenly. “You think I looked at her like I look at you?”

“You had your hands all over her.”

“Because I was angry!”

“And that makes it better?!”

“No!” His voice thundered through the apartment before he caught himself. You stepped back instinctively, tbat nearly killed him. The second he noticed fear flash across your face he looked sick with himself.

“...fuck,” he whispered.

You wiped your eyes aggressively. “I think you should leave.”

“No.”

Your head jerked up. “No?” you repeated in disbelief.

“I’m not leaving till you hear me out.”

“There’s nothing to hear!”

“There is for me.” His voice cracked on the last word, actually cracked. You both froze. Sukuna looked almost startled by it himself, like his own desperation disgusted him. His fists clenched so hard his tattoos stretched over his knuckles.

“You think this is easy for me?” he asked quietly. “You think I know how to do this shit?”

“You should’ve thought about that before–”

“I know!” he barked. 

Then softer, broken. “I know.”

God, he looked awful.

Not physically. Sukuna always looked intimidating no matter what. Six foot something of muscle and sharp edges and dark eyes.

But emotionally? He looked ruined. Hair messy from shoving his hands through it nonstop. Eyes bloodshot. Hoodie half soaked from the storm outside because apparently he hadn’t even bothered with an umbrella when he chased after you.

“You didn’t even come home,” you whispered.

His face twisted because that was the worst part. You’d waited for him, called him, texted him. And he’d ignored every single one because he’d been angry after your argument and wanted to “win.”

God, he hated himself.

“I know.”

“That whole night I thought maybe something happened to you.” Tears spilled faster now. “I was terrified.”

His breathing stuttered. 

Then you laughed bitterly. “And then I walk in and see you with another girl.”

Sukuna looked like someone had punched him directly in the throat.

“She didn’t matter.”

“But I did,” you whispered. “And you still did it.”

That shut him up, because you were right. Completely right. The silence stretched so long it became unbearable. 

Then finally– 

“I don’t know how to lose you.”

Your eyes flickered. Sukuna stared at the floor like the words physically hurt to say. “I don’t know how to do that.”

His voice had gone rough. Not angry rough, raw rough.

“I’ve lost damn near everybody else in my life. Parents. Friends. People leave. Shit happens. Fine.” His jaw tightened. “But you…”

He looked at you finally.

And God.

You’d never seen him look afraid before. Not truly afraid.

“I can’t fucking do that with you.”

Your face wavered. Sukuna noticed immediately and stepped closer before stopping himself halfway like he didn’t trust his own body anymore.

“You’re all over this place,” he whispered desperately. “You’re in my routines. My brothers love you. Yuji asks for you before bed every damn night. Choso tells you shit he won’t tell me. Your stupid hair ties are all over my bathroom. Your coffee order’s stuck in my head permanently.”

He laughed once. Humorless. “I see somethin pink in a store and think of you automatically. That’s sick.”

A tear slid down your cheek.

“I fucked up,” he said shakily. “I know I did.” His breathing got uneven. “And I swear to God I’ll spend every day makin up for it if you let me.”

You stayed quiet. And that silence was making him unravel. Sukuna took another step forward, then another, until he was right there. Close enough that you could see his hands trembling.

Sukuna.

Trembling.

“I don’t know how to beg,” he admitted quietly. “So if I’m shit at this, that’s why.”

Your lips parted slightly. Then his voice dropped even lower.

“But please.”

The word sounded painful, like glass in his throat.

“Please don’t leave me over the worst mistake I ever made.”

You looked down immediately because your eyes filled too fast. Sukuna panicked. Actually panicked. His hands hovered near you before gripping his own wrists instead.

“Fuck– no, don’t cry, baby, please–”

“You made me cry!”

“I know, I know, I know–”

His words stumbled over each other desperately. You’d never seen him like this.

Never.

Sukuna was the kind of man who got angry when he got hurt. The kind that buried feelings so deep they turned poisonous.

But now? Now he looked like he was drowning right in front of you.

“You don’t understand,” he whispered. “I’ve been outside this apartment for an hour tryin to figure out how to make you stay.”

Your chest tightened painfully. “I almost didn’t come up,” he admitted. “Thought maybe you’d be happier if I disappeared.”

Your head snapped up immediately. “Don’t say that.”

His eyes softened instantly at your reaction. There you were, still caring, even now. That nearly destroyed him all over again.

“I love you,” he said suddenly.

You froze.

Sukuna almost never said it first. Almost never said it at all. But now the words were falling out of him uncontrollably.

“I love you so fucking much it makes me sick sometimes.” His voice shook. “You think I touched her because I wanted her? I did it because I knew it’d hurt you and I was angry and stupid and selfish.”

His face twisted in disgust at himself.

“And the second I saw your face I wanted to rip my own fucking arm off for touching her.”

Your breath hitched.

“I know sorry isn’t enough,” he whispered. “I know that.”

Then finally–

The thing that broke you completely.

Sukuna reached for your hand carefully. Tentatively, like he thought you might pull away. And when you didn’t? His entire body visibly sagged in relief. 

“Please,” he whispered again. Not angry, not proud, just desperate. 

“Tell me how to fix this.”

.

.

.

Will you forgive him?

It’s not like you expected a paying gig right out the gate when you moved to the big city to chase your dream of becoming a musician, but you at least figured you would be able to get something that pays in the meantime.

At this point, every rejection is a shot straight to the heart.

You applied to every store you could find with a hiring ad. Both online and in-person, skipping over the occasional store that you felt you weren’t cut out for. Now, it’s come to the point where you don’t have the luxury to be picky.

Still, the shoe store that wouldn’t hire you? At least you have shoes, even if they’re worn-in Vans and Converse for the most part.

The reception job at the law firm? It’s not like you have a degree or can cite any, but you know general laws.

This? You sigh as your gaze traces the letters across the failing light box, deep red letters spelling out Adult Boutique.

It’s not that you have anything against it.

It’s that you’ve never used a sex toy.

Hell, you don’t know the first thing about them.

You’ve never even had sex before.

Sighing, you throw your head back against the headrest of your old rusting sedan and take a moment to breathe in the harsh disappointment of chasing your dreams. Your hands settle in your lap as you set aside any reservations you have, snatching your resumé from the passenger’s seat and shutting the door behind you. You walk with as much confidence as you can muster into the shop, but it’s almost humiliating how far out of your wheelhouse you are when you’re met with the interior. For as confident as you are, it drains from you in an instant.

Humiliation is a kink though, right?

“ID?” You pause in the doorway before you can get much of a look at the store, staring at a man with piercing blue eyes and white hair. He’s handsome, maybe a year younger than you, and his friendly smile is horribly infectious.

You stand like a deer in the headlights, your lips caught in an embarrassing ‘o’ before your mind catches up. ID. You’re in an age-restricted store. Right.

“Shoot–” Your hands fly down to your pockets, reaching for the wallet…

… That you left in the car.

Your jaw hangs ajar at the realization, warmth climbing from the back of your neck to the tips of your ears as the handsome clerk’s startlingly blue eyes pin you in place.

You shut your eyes, biting down on your lower lip. “I’ll be right back.”

In the midst of your walk of shame back to your car across the street, every thought reminds you that you could just leave. You could forget this ever happened and simply accept you aren’t getting the job. The fact that your wallet is so empty that you left it in your unlocked car in a shady part of town serves as a reminder that, again, you don’t exactly have the luxury of being picky.

With a forlorn sigh and a drag of your hands down your face, you put on your best confident smile and make your way back inside. The clerk grins as you hand over your ID, leaning over the counter on forearms that you swear you’re not staring at.

They’re just veiny.

And incredibly hot.

“Sorry,” you sigh as you pocket your ID again.

“Don’t worry about it,” there’s a small wave of his hand to brush you off, and when you look up to meet his eyes, there’s a particularly sultry look to his gaze. It’s enough to warm your cheeks again, and you can only pray he doesn’t notice how much you’ve been staring. “Looking for anything in particular?” He bears a lopsided tilt to his grin that sets your nerves further alight as your stomach ties in knots under the handsome stranger’s gaze.

It’s gotta be a bad combination to be clueless on everything around you and thinking about the hot man in front of you rather than the job you’re applying for.

Shaking your head to center yourself, you put on your best smile. “Yeah, actually.” The man’s expression changes to intrigue as you hand over your resumé. His eyes skim it, brows raising.

He gives you a once-over, setting the paper down with a more genuine grin. “We could use the help,” he admits. “The owner’ll be in tomorrow morning, I’ll have her give you a call.”

That’s the most positive response you’ve received to an application thus far. Although you find yourself nervously eyeing a bottle of G-Spot Stimulating Gel on the counter that you don’t know the first thing about, you’re honestly relieved that things could be looking up. You can handle this job with a bit of research, surely.

“That would be great,” you offer a smile. “Thank you.”

–

So, the good news is that you have a job. The bad news is that you still don’t know the first thing about what you’re selling. Admittedly, you probably should have done some research or looked over the product offerings on the store’s site, but somewhere between preparation for a new job and trying to sleep through the train shaking your apartment every few minutes, you forgot.

The kind woman who interviewed you over the phone and the store’s owner– Jillian– greets you at the door as you push into the store. Her graying hair is curled tightly at her roots, her eyes wrinkled at the corner and kind. She wears a pale pink wool sweater that compliments her lip gloss, standing at about the same height as you. She’s old enough to retire and still gorgeous all-the-same.

“Welcome, dear,” she smiles brilliantly at the sight of you, ushering you towards the front counter with a hand on your shoulder. “I appreciate the help, it’ll be nice to step back from the counter and keep my job behind-the-scenes.”

“I’m happy to help,” you reply with a kind grin, keeping up your best customer service attitude. As she leads you behind the counter, your eyes flick to the two tall men standing behind the counter. You recognize the first as the hot white-haired man who accepted your resumé. Cheery, charming, and strikingly handsome with toned muscles visible from under his white t-shirt.

The man beside doesn’t bear the same welcoming nature. In fact, they’re the definition of polar opposites.

Standing a couple of inches taller than the one you recognize, he has black hair that must be dyed, pink roots standing out like a rose among thorns. His ears are pierced in a multitude of ways with matching brow and lip piercings and tattoos that travel up the back of his neck, reaching his jaw. He’s in far darker and more casual clothes, arms crossed over his broad and built chest with his hip leaned on the counter, and a look of mild disinterest that does no favors for your nerves.

Where the white-haired man bears a friendly smile and a button-up that makes him look ready for a job in a cubicle, his black-haired colleague is very clearly assessing your every move, and looks like he could be on-stage at a dingy bar.

She introduces you to the men, earning a grin from the one you recognize and… nothing from the man with black-dyed hair.

“I’ll be in every couple of days to do the cash deposit,” she explains. “I’ll also drop by to check on the office and put together paperwork, but Satoru–” she points to the white-haired man who casually salutes in greeting, “and Ryomen–” her hand waves towards the frowning man who doesn’t react save for a glance at the older woman, “will train you. Satoru usually does the opening shift and Ryomen does the closing shift. We’re closed Mondays and Tuesdays, but you’ll work the rest of the week.” You’re grateful for the consistency, if nothing else. “You’ll take the midday Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays, you’ll be alone for a bit while the boys are in classes, and you’ll take the closing shifts on weekends to help Ryomen during busy hours.”

His gaze, a crimson so striking you have half a mind to wonder if they’re contacts, flicks to you, indiscernible, then back to Jillian.

“You won’t be alone while you train of course though, the boys and I will cover until you’re comfortable being alone.” She pats you once on the shoulder. “Does that work for you, dear?”

“Not a problem at all,” you nod. You clasp your hands together politely.

“Perfect!” She claps once in glee, clearly happy to step away from serving customers. You can understand that sentiment. “I’ll grab your paperwork.”

Satoru’s gaze follows her as she heads for the back room, then turns cheerily to you. “Hey, newbie!” He steps forward from the counter, outstretching his hand. “Nice to meet you.” Shaking his hand, you match his grin. “Well, by name anyway.”

You turn your expectations to Ryomen, who doesn’t move from the spot he’s standing in. His weight shifts to the other hip, still leaning against the counter when he juts his chin out in less of a greeting and more of an acknowledgement. “Hey.”

“Nice to meet you, Ryomen.” You give him a little wave.

“Sukuna,” he corrects you. His words aren’t sharp per se, but they carry a blunt edge. “Only the old lady can call me Ryomen.” His voice is as gruff as his style and stature, fitting of the brutish impression he gives off. His slightly narrowed eyes give off the notion that he’s evaluating you. Reading you.

With a tight-lipped smile, Satoru scratches at the back of his head. He shoots you an apologetic glance as you uncomfortably gather that this isn’t unusual for Sukuna.

“Got it, sorry.” You offer an apologetic smile, which he accepts with a nod.

Satoru steps forward to save you from the interaction, motioning with his head out to the store’s floor. “Why don’t I show you around?”

You nod gratefully, letting him lead you away from the counter. Sukuna’s gaze is quick to drop to the counter as he leans over a book of some sort, his chin resting atop his hand. You turn your attention back to Satoru as he leads you through the long back area of the store

A colorful assortment of dildos and vibrators line the walls of the first aisle, anything from glass to silicone in different shapes and size varieties. The light in the far corner flickers when you step into the aisle, faux wood creaking under-foot. The store has that sort of old strip mall feel where, although well-maintained, its age is evident in the old fixtures and failing lights.

“Sorry about him,” Satoru’s voice is a near-whisper as he shakes his head. His hair falls in front of those striking blue eyes as he leads the way down each aisle. You’re not sure you’d really call it showing you around, but you’re certainly walking the floor. “He’s uhhh–” he waves his hand through the air as he searches for the right term. “Moody, or something.” He chuckles. “I don’t know, you get used to it. Don’t take it personally.”

“He doesn’t seem like a customer service person,” you admit sheepishly, keeping your voice down.

Satoru does no favors keeping his own down as he barks a laugh. “No, not really, hey? He’s Jillian’s friend’s son, so–” he shrugs as you mentally connect the dots that landed him this job. “It’s an easy enough gig and honestly business is slow.”

“That’s a shame,” you offer, mostly for Jillian’s sake, although you don’t mind it being slow.

“I said it was slow, not bad,” he grins, eyes narrowing to that sultry gaze he shot you when you dropped off your resumé last week. “We have a lot of regulars. People who spend a lot. You’ll recognize them in time.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “It’ll be nice to have some company for the end of my shifts,” he adds, tilting his head to eye you. He crosses his arms over his chest, catching your attention as you glance at his muscles just long enough to consider yourself caught. He takes the opportunity and swings with it. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you.” His voice drops a tone, the flirty lilt warming the tips of your ears.

“Yeah, it’ll be nice to get to know you too.”

Jillian returns with paperwork before Satoru can take the opportunity to flirt any further– but you get the feeling he will. It seems to go hand-in-hand with his personality. Once everything is signed and Satoru has headed off for class, Jillian leaves training in Sukuna’s hands as she retreats to the back to file your paperwork.

Sukuna’s gaze is a slow drag down your form as he evaluates the dark blouse and nice jeans you chose to wear. Admittedly, you now feel a little overdressed given his relative comfort and ripped jeans, but in spite of the judgement clear as day in his eyes, he keeps it to himself. At least, as long as you don’t count the frown he bears. You can’t really tell if that’s meant for you or if that’s his neutral expression.

With a sigh, he shuts whatever book is on the counter behind him and gives you a rundown in short, clipped sentences. “Floor work first, cash after. You worked cash before?”

You nod, though the register looks fairly old here.

He gives a hum of approval. “Good. The floor's pretty self-explanatory. Everything is ordered by brand, then color. Shipments Mondays and Thursdays. Back room for any overstock.” He points over his shoulder to where Jillian disappeared as he lays out instructions like facts. “No clock system. Just work when you work. Pay is every second Friday. You’ll get a check.”

Again, you nod.

His gaze travels the length of your figure, but it doesn’t feel as though he’s checking you out. It’s an evaluation. And you’re pretty sure you’re failing before you’ve had the chance to start. “I don’t care what you do when customers aren’t around. Study, read, go on your phone. I don’t give a shit.”

“Oh, okay. That’s kinda nice.”

His tone is apathetic as he hums in agreement. “I didn’t have time last night and I know Satoru’s lazy ass didn’t clean this morning, so I’ll get you to organize the shibari while I put some shit away.”

You nod, slipping away from the counter onto the floor. His gaze tracks you as you very unconfidently thread through the rows in search of shibari. To your horror, nothing is well-labeled, which means there isn’t a distinct section with some big flashy sign to point you in the direction of a kink you don’t know the name of.

“It’s at the back,” Sukuna’s low voice calls out. Biting down on your lip, you move towards the back of the store, your gaze trailing along the wall. There are a number of bondage devices you can’t name, ropes that you assume go with bondage, and chains and whips that all feel bondage-adjacent.

So, more or less, you’re still at a loss.

Really failing that evaluation now.

Behind you, Sukuna is replacing products that were atop the counter at the front, but his movements stop when he fixes you with his narrowed gaze. “The ropes,” he points them out on the wall with displeasure prickling around the edge of his sandpaper-scraped voice. Now that you look at them, it feels obvious given how out of order they are.

“I know!” Heat flares beneath your skin in all the wrong places. Still, you won’t let him get to you. “I was just looking.”

He doesn’t reply, his crimson gaze boring into your expression so hard that you’re pretty sure he can see right through you.

At least you can’t fuck up the organization of the ropes.

Quietly sucking in a breath, you turn to the wall, pulling down the plastic-covered rope bundles that are out of place.

“So,” you turn your gaze over your shoulder. “You’re in school?”

“Mhm.”

“What are you taking?”

“Business.”

He’s difficult, too. Great.

Once the ropes are in a more sound order, you spin on your heel to face him. He’s already turning away, moving to a different area to put away a vibrator.

“Can I–”

“Here.” He tosses a bottle of lube at you, caught clumsily in unexpecting fingers. “Put that away, too.”

Pressing your lips into a tight line, you nod, more to yourself than him. At least you know what lube is.

You search the store for the spot where it belongs, twisting it on the shelf so the label faces out, then make your way to the counter where Sukuna’s already standing over his book again. Before you have the opportunity to speak, the bell over the door rings as a customer walks through the door. She’s around your age, and quickly flashes ID towards Sukuna, who nods.

A regular, you suppose.

The tattooed clerk’s eyes trail to you, jutting his chin out expectantly towards the customer.

Making your way up to the woman with cute blonde hair cut short, you fall into your customer service voice. “Can I help you find anything?”

“Hi!” She beams at you, her smile putting your first day nerves at ease. “Thank you, but I know where most things are,” she waves you off politely. “I appreciate it, though!” She moves past you towards the back of the store, whirling around suddenly as her gaze shifts between you and Sukuna. “Oh, actually, did you get any more of the cherry stimulants in?”

You turn your attention to Sukuna, who fixes you with a lazy unsure expression. “She can check for you.” He leans his hip on the counter again, arms crossed over his chest as he faces you. “It’ll be in the back. They come in a box with a cherry logo on them.”

Worrying your lip between your teeth, you nod as you make your way to the back.

Truthfully, the cramped room is a bit of a relief from the uncomfortable tension Sukuna just seems to naturally exude. Him and Satoru are big personalities in the most opposite way you can possibly imagine, but at least Satoru is willing to chat.

Jillian glances over her shoulder from an old computer at the back of the room. “Everything going well, dear?”

“Yeah,” you grin, though truthfully this already feels like a disaster where you’re being scornfully judged by your colleague and accidentally making enemies on day one. With one of the only people you work with. So that’s great. “There’s just someone looking for stimulants.”

She shifts in her chair, doing a once-over of the boxes. “Not back here. There’s an inventory list on this computer that you can usually use, but I don’t want to lose progress on your files. Can you ask Ryomen to check the holds drawer? Satoru might have put some on hold if he knew they were looking.”

“Sure, thank you!”

With a grateful smile, you head back to the front and relay the information to Sukuna.

“Holds drawer’s there.” He points to a handle on the lower inside of the counter. Within are a number of boxes and small sachet packs. “Mm, there they are.”

Clearly one of the sachet packs is what she’s looking for. Unfortunately, they all fail to say exactly what they are on the front with bright and bold brands rather than descriptors or even a damn cherry logo, which means you haven’t the faintest clue what you’re looking at.

“The orange one,” Sukuna adds when you’re still paused staring at the drawer. There’s an unimpressed lilt to his tone that has you wincing before you pull the sachet pack from the drawer. You do what you can to keep your expression neutral and feign confidence when you stand upright again.

The whole situation is tense and embarrassing. It might at least be tolerable with Satoru, but Sukuna either enjoys your suffering or he’s an asshole.

The unfortunate third possible option is both.

His grimace as you set the pack in his hand isn’t lost on you, although you choose to head towards the register in hopes that he can at least teach you how it works and you can get on with this day. He chooses not to say a word to you as the customer finishes looking around, returning to the front with a rose-shaped vibrator.

“Ooh, thank you!” She grins as she spots the packet at the register.

Sukuna nods, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you’re paying attention. “Just type the amounts into the register,” he explains, putting both prices from the stickers into the old machine. Once he hits the equals button, the cash drawer pops open as he gets the total and it calculates tax for him. The customer flashes a card, so Sukuna shuts the drawer and types the amount into the machine to his right. “While she pays, get the serials on each tag and write them here,” he explains, pulling the number from each barcode and writing them on a pad of paper left of the register. Once her payment is processed, a receipt prints, which he hands to her, keeping the second copy under the till. Finally, he bags the items.

She thanks him, giving you a polite little wave and retreating out the door.

You let out a breath, nodding. “The register seems easy enough,” you try more friendly commentary in spite of his half-assed teaching, but you suppose by now you shouldn’t expect Sukuna to be receptive. He hums, a judgemental flash in his eyes as he pins you in place with a narrowed gaze like he can see something you can’t.

He works his jaw in a slow grind of teeth like he wants to say something but thinks better of it, dropping your gaze. “I’ve got to study. There’s not much else to the job besides that, so keep yourself busy.”

Thankfully the rest of the day passes without much of a hitch and you’re able to leave as evening hits, with Sukuna staying to close the store.

He doesn’t give you another word for the remainder of the day. He doesn’t expect you to handle customers. He handles the till. He doesn’t even look at you as you let him know your shift is over. You aren’t sure whether to be grateful or dread the rest of your shifts with him, but thankfully you’re able to spend more time with Satoru tomorrow.

Given that you’re off a couple of hours before close, you use the opportunity to stake out local bars with stages and take note of a small pub tucked away in a little corner. The outside has a sign that doesn’t light up in the night’s cover, but within it’s rather warm, with string lights hung over a stage in the back. While you work on your online presence, it’s the perfect spot to get your stage skills up.

The thick metal of the door is cool on your hand, creaking on its hinge as you press through to the interior warmth. There’s a small two-man group on-stage performing low-energy grunge that seem to be garnering decent attention from onlookers and groups you would be willing to bet are regulars based on the way they move around the small scene.

Adjusting your jacket over your shoulder, you make your way to the bar. The bartender looks to be a couple of years senior to you, with short brown hair kept neat aside from a couple of stray strands that fall over his forehead. He has a prominent nose and sunken eyes that give him an overall air of tiredness.

The apron he wears over a clean-cut button-up pulls taut across his chest as he reaches overhead to set a bottle of whiskey along the back wall before turning his attention to you with a polite smile. “What can I get for you?”

“Oh, um, actually,” you begin with a polite smile, “I was wondering who I need to impress to be up there.” You point to the grunge band at the back as his gaze follows you.

He hums, his calm demeanor shifting from the routine of bartending to something more friendly. “I can give you the owner’s email. If you fit in with the crowd, he’ll work with your schedule.”

Casting another glance at the two men on-stage, you nod, chewing on your lip in an effort to hide your giddy smile. “That’d be great. So… what– a little moody, kind of chill? Maybe some minor chords in there?”

The bartender chuckles, picking up a glass like routine simply fills his subconscious. “Sounds to me like you’ve already got the gig.”

Leaving behind the smell of drowned sorrows and shared laughter, you can hold onto the fact that while your day took a turn for the worst, it’s just a job. Once you leave the building, you don’t have to think about it and can focus on music. Sukuna isn’t the end of the world and if you can manage to stay out of his hair, surely you can find some sort of common ground with him.

–

Wind whips too fast across the street when you lock your car behind you. Your unzipped coat flails in the wind, leaving you with a flustered expression as the shop door slams shut behind you.

“Hey newbie,” Satoru greets you with an amused grin. You flash him a smile as you smooth down your outfit, far more casual than the previous one with jeans and a band shirt. “How was yesterday?” He asks, wiping down the counter and tossing the wipe in a garbage as he claps his hands together to brush them off.

The chuckle that parts your lips is half-hearted as you drop your laptop bag atop the front counter. “Kind of a disaster?” You wince, shaking your head. “Is he seriously always like that?”

Satoru stands upright, running a hand through white locks. “He gets better when you get to know him, but yeah he’s kind of an asshole,” he laughs brightly, unbothered. “I’m pretty sure he thinks he’s all that and a bag of chips.”

“Sure, if the chips are sour,” you mutter.

Satoru snickers, nodding. “What happened anyway?”

“I didn’t immediately know where everything is without being shown,” you wave a hand through the air, letting it hang there for a moment in disbelief.

Satoru, unphased, grins. “Oh, yeah. Sounds like a classic case of not running on Sukuna’s schedule. You should really get on that.”

You throw your head back with a sigh, giving a dismissive wave of your hands. “Whatever, it’s a new day, right? Maybe it won’t be so bad today.”

Satoru teasingly sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Sorry newbie, but my sources are telling me today’s weather is looking cloudy in Sukuna-land.”

Satoru’s unseriousness helps settle a modicum of your nerves as you find yourself laughing at his charm.

“But hey, you’ve got me for a couple of hours first.” He grins, settling the balls of his palms atop the counter as he leans his weight back. One of his sleeves, rolled to the elbow, slides down his forearm to his wrist. “What did he go over with you, anyway?”

You laugh loosely. “Like, nothing. He gave me a thirty second run-down of the till and told me I don’t need to clock in or out.”

“That’s gold,” Satoru shakes his head in an effort to get hair from falling into his line of sight. “I thought he’d be nicer to a pretty girl like you.” His face lights up as you avert your eyes, smiling at the scuffed floor underfoot. He keeps the conversation flowing like it’s second nature. “Tell you what, I’ll actually try to show you around before he gets here, and you can tell me what brought you to the city.”

Recovering quickly, you fix him with a humbled expression at the callout. “Is it that obvious that I’m not from here?”

Satoru barks a laugh. “Yeah. You’ve got small town energy.”

“Small town energy? What does that even mean?” You follow him out from behind the counter as he leads the way to the back room first.

“Just vibes,” he shrugs. “It’s good. Cute,” he grins. You get the feeling he’s a bit of a flirt through and through, but truthfully you enjoy the attention.

Plus, he’s hot.

“Thanks,” you murmur with a bashful smile, chewing on your lip. “I uh– I wanted to give my dream a shot before tying myself down in a career I hate.”

His eyes light up as he turns to you with a palm on the door handle for the back room. “Oh yeah? What’s your dream?”

“Singing. Music,” you admit, feeling just shy enough that you avert your gaze in spite of your giddiness.

“No way.” He’s grinning widely now, his hand leaving the door handle as he chooses to lean against it instead, arms crossed tantalizingly over his chest. “I feel like I’m obligated to be the annoying guy who asks you to sing for me now.”

You laugh heartily. “At least you know it would make you that guy.”

With a chuckle, he finally turns around to lead the way into the back room. He peppers actual explanations of the job’s inner workings between personal questions.

After explaining the inventory system on the back computer and how boxes are organized, he leads the way back through the aisles, pointing out different sections as you walk. “So, do you take gigs between shifts?”

“When I can,” you nod. “I’m trying to put together the money to get some studio time soon. I have some self-recorded stuff, but I don’t think I’m much of a producer.”

“Will you at least tell me what genre?”

“Um,” you shrug thoughtfully, “I guess like punk or indie rock?”

“Oooh, so you’re a moody guitar girl. I like it, I like it.” He nods his approval with a wide grin. The faintest of dimples forms at the corners of his lips, giving him a charmingly boyish smile.

Your genuine shared laughter sends flutters to the pit of your stomach, warm and welcome, as you finish threading through aisles and head back to the front counter. Satoru pushes up on forearms that flex under his weight as he settles atop the counter. You follow suit on the opposite counter, head tilting as you inquire about him.

“Jillian mentioned you’re in school, what are you taking?”

“Business,” he replies with a lopsided smile.

“Oh, like Sukuna?”

“Damn, you got an answer out of him?” Satoru chuckles. “Yeah, he’s a year ahead of me but we’re in the same program. I think he wants to do the whole company startup thing though, I’m looking to kinda take over for Jillian and eventually buy this place if things work out. She’s holding out until I finish.”

Your brow raises as you fix him with an inquisitive look. “You wanna take over here?”

“Don’t sound so shocked,” he chides, gaze lidded with an almost-cocky attitude. “Don’t get me wrong, I know it doesn’t seem busy even with online orders, but I actually think there’s a huge untapped market here.” He straightens and you can see the passion and drive gleaming in his eager gaze. “I think the way sex toys are sold both online and in-stores is outdated and makes a lot of people feel uncomfortable and I want to try to do something new to help people feel more comfortable and open in terms of sex.”

You blink, nodding at the insightful way that he goes on to explain the ins and outs of his opinion on the industry and how, although he loves Jillian, he can see a lot of ways to use his knowledge to improve the business and hopes to change the way kinks are viewed.

It’s not like it hasn’t occurred to you just how inexperienced you are, but as you nod along to his passionate explanation, it occurs to you just how experienced he is. He doesn’t say it outright, but he talks about the way condoms are made and how bad they can be for some people, how he hopes to bring in products for people who struggle with medication killing their sex drive, and even the intricacies of what products work well and which don’t and how he would love to stop stocking them altogether.

It shouldn’t come as a shock– it doesn’t– after all, he’s hot and flirty, but it certainly gives the butterflies in your stomach an edge that you aren’t sure what to make of. It’s not uncomfortable– Satoru’s still kind and has a welcoming personality– it’s closer to inadequacy. Like you should know more, and not just for job purposes. It doesn’t sit well.

But you shouldn’t be thinking about your coworker like that anyway, right?

Thankfully, before you can think too hard about the subject, Sukuna walks through the door with a heavy step to his boots.

Maybe ‘thankfully’ doesn’t suit his arrival, though. His gaze flits briefly between each of you before he heads straight to the back, giving you both a noncommittal wave as you greet him.

When the door shuts behind the brute, Satoru turns to you. He grimaces, faux empathy shining in cerulean seas. “The weather report was right.”

The day passes so quickly with Satoru even without a single customer entering the store that the rest of the day feels like a slog without him. Or maybe it just feels like a slog because Sukuna makes it clear he wants nothing to do with you. He even stayed in the back until Satoru had to leave in spite of the changes in their regular schedules just to train you.

He’s not even that unfriendly with Satoru either from what the kinder of the two told you. He tried to reason that your tattooed co-worker simply isn’t fond of new people, but you’re pretty sure your inexperience grates on his nerves.

And unfortunately, every little slip up seems to tack on. Your shifts with Satoru are a breeze that leaves you grinning bashfully over your new crush while your shifts with Sukuna have you questioning every life choice you’ve ever made.

Your first weekend closing shift with Sukuna, you’re pretty sure you confirm your suspicions that he simply doesn’t like you.

The bell rings overhead as a tall man with dark hair walks through the door. You greet him and offer a hand, but his gait is purposeful as he heads into the back after flashing ID. Passing the time by fiddling with a pen as Sukuna stares blankly at the door with a hand lazily strewn over his textbook page, your gaze lifts when the man returns.

“Excuse me. Do you know the difference between this–” he shows you a bullet vibrator, “and this?” He holds up a hitachi wand next, “aside from size?”

Your jaw hangs open stupidly as you try to formulate a response but find yourself at a loss when size seems like the reasonable answer. Feeling your face flush, you glance sidelong at the business major.

If looks could kill.

The worst part? It’s not even glare.

It’s the most unfiltered and raw disappointment you’ve ever seen.

He huffs, pushing up from the counter. “The bullet is discreet but weak. It takes batteries and they usually only last for five hours overall. It’s still a good amount of use, but they might be watch batteries, which can be a pain.” He shoots you a pointed stare that makes you wonder if you would rather have just embarrassed yourself in front of Satoru in spite of your crush. “The wand is rechargeable, way stronger, lasts about fifteen hours, and has a lot more vibration modes,” he explains confidently.

The man nods, setting the bullet aside as he brings the wand to the counter. Over the course of the past few days, Sukuna’s taken most of the floor-related duties away from you in spite of the fact that you have tried to do some research and are getting to know the sections and general genres of toys. That question simply didn’t come up. Yet for all of the times he’s made a motion for you to take over cash, he doesn’t even offer it this time.

You get the feeling this goes beyond his usual irritation.

You can practically feel it radiating off of him in waves of negative energy.

The moment the customer walks out the door, Sukuna’s palm splays across the counter as he turns with frustrating evenness to face you. Somehow his ability to keep his actions level while being visibly affronted is worse than if he would have just yelled.

“Do you think you’re cute for making my job harder or did you just apply for the wrong fucking job?”

Okay. Fuck this guy.

“You can’t be serious right now.”

He lifts his hands in a loose shrug. “Do I look like I’m kidding?” He replies, dry and even with venomous fangs.

You scoff, but relent nonetheless given that he is close to the store’s owner and you can not afford to lose this job.

Literally.

You can’t call a scoop of peanut butter dinner again.

“Look, I’m sorry, this is just–” you hesitate, your mind muddled as you search for an explanation. Sighing in exasperation, you throw your hands up, letting them fall to your sides with a plop against your jeans. You settle on the truth before you take too long to reply. “Sex toys are new to me.”

His jaw ticks as he leans his hip back against the counter, arms crossing over his chest. Somehow, he makes Satoru look small– not thin or short, but small– given how much bulkier he is. He’s hot too, but his personality stands as a bit of a wall between you. His jaw works, eyes narrowed as he takes in your words.

At last, he chuckles. Dry and devoid of any amusement. “Why the fuck did you apply here if you don’t know anything about the shit we sell?”

“Because I need a job?” You reply incredulously.

He huffs a sigh. “Just my fucking luck.” He turns back to the register, haphazardly tossing the receipt into a small bin under the counter before he grabs the bullet vibrator and heads out onto the floor. “Figure that shit out,” he calls sourly without looking back at you. “Watch porn or buy something, I don’t give a shit. Just don’t make my job harder.”

Leaning back against the counter where it meets the wall, you let your head fall back in disbelief.

Asshole.

–

You wish you could say your first month passes seamlessly, but Sukuna makes the seams painfully obvious.

With Satoru, they’re subtle but you still feel them.

They both present separate problems.

Sukuna is an outright asshole and you want to get things right if only to not hear his virulent voice. The silence is somehow better.

Satoru is kind, open, and caring, but leagues ahead of you in experience and you have a massive crush. There aren’t enough customers in the morning to embarrass yourself in front of him, but you do find yourself wanting to impress him and against your better judgement, you’re pretty sure you’ve given him the impression you know what you’re doing from what little research you’ve done and what you’ve picked up over the month.

At least you’re trained enough that you get a couple of hours to yourself between Satoru’s departure and Sukuna’s arrival now that their hours aren’t extended in order to train you.

“You gonna be okay on your own?” Satoru asks, shrugging his jacket over his shoulder.

“I’ll be fine,” you brush him off with a smile.

He nudges your arm, unknowingly sending goosebumps in a trail up your skin. “Good. Text me if you need something. Or, I dunno. If you’re bored.”

Your heart does a little flip. “Yeah. Okay, thanks.”

You watch bashfully as he leaves, offering a little wave. Once he’s out of sight, you lean on your forearms over the counter. With a forlorn sigh, you drop your chin to the vinyl below, staring blankly out the window. Truthfully, it’s nice to have a breather between each man. You need the time to prepare yourself to handle Sukuna.

Your mind’s distraction comes in the form of your phone buzzing a few minutes later.

1:36 PM Satoru || not bored yet? ;)

A distraction to be sure. Whether it’s fortunate or not– yet to be determined.

The door seems to be opening more and more with him these days and as giddy as that makes you, nerves are beginning to show more and more at the seams. It’s foolish really, and you know that, but you find yourself constantly coming back to your lack of experience.

1:37 PM You || Give me like 5 more minutes and then I will be

You can practically hear the laugh he barks, having grown fond of his company.

You’re still casually texting back and forth when Sukuna’s shoulder presses on the door. He moves confidently through the shop, casting a single glance at you before dropping his bag off in the back room.

He’s still a pain in the ass, but Satoru was right that you do get used to it. You’re not sure that you’d call that a win, but at least you’ve come to some sort of silent agreement with him out of sheer necessity.

He didn’t leave you with many options after realizing just how little you know about the industry. When he got in the following day and returned your greeting with a painfully mild ‘don’t bother’, you had to figure out some sort of system that would prevent him from interacting with you altogether if it means his attitude is milder.

That’s how you landed here. He handles the floor and questions, you handle cash. You can tell he hates the arrangement given that he’s not a chatty guy, but at least you aren’t pinned in place by his vile appraisal every time you interact.

He’s civil.

Civil enough.

Most of the time.

For him, anyway.

He’s less judgemental, at least, and when you are able to help on the floor, he tends to leave you be more often than not. It’s like the loosest form of appreciation you can think of.

You’re pretty sure ‘tolerates’ is a fitting word for how he sees you. Like some sort of intrusive insect that sits just out of reach.

When he re-emerges from the back with his coat shrugged off, you’re surprised to see him in a black button-up and slacks, carrying his usual aloof expression as he makes his way to the counter. Admittedly, it’s a good look for him.

It’s unfair that he gets to be hot and an asshole.

“Is there a reason you’re staring?”

Thank god you don’t find him intimidating anymore. He’s a dick. Even to customers from time to time, but you don’t find yourself feeling small under his judgement. Maybe you should, but your ability to quickly bounce back could easily be placed at fault.

Blinking, you avert your gaze. “Sorry. I’m just not used to seeing you so dressed up.”

He examines your expression as though he suspects a lie in your words. “I had a presentation,” he explains, surprisingly open as he offers the explanation willingly.

Holy shit. It’s the first sunny day in the Sukuna forecast.

“What sort of presentation?”

“A marketing pitch.”

“Oh, nice.” You nod, trying to keep the peace. “How’d it go?”

He nods, turning to the counter to open his laptop. “Good. We’re gonna workshop it a bit, but I’m hoping to pitch to investors soon.” There’s pride within the evenness of his voice that has you tilting your head, intrigued to get something genuine from him.

Leaning in, you push to see how much you can get from him. “Like, a startup idea?” You recall Satoru mentioning something of the sort.

His gaze fixes you from over his shoulder. You get the feeling with him that he’s always trying to read you. “Yeah. A platform where people can pitch their businesses to customers within a certain distance without needing social media.”

“Oh,” you blink, mildly surprised. “That’s a really good idea.”

He hums, turning back to his laptop.

“You don’t really strike me as the CEO type, if I’m being honest.”

“I’m not,” he agrees, surprisingly unbothered by the observation. You consider yourself lucky he doesn’t take it as an insult. “I’d be looking for a co-founder to handle the personal, financial, and sales bullshit. I’d run strategy and go-to-market.”

Admittedly, yeah. That suits him. He’s sharp and straightforward, he seems like the type to be more inclined to work on strategy and run everything without the constant need for approval and help from others.

“That sounds more your style. What made you think of the platform idea?”

He doesn’t look back as he replies. “Just seemed like something that would make money.”

You recognize that as Sukuna being polite. He’s shutting you down without a look that makes your skin crawl for once. You suppose it’s as good of a time as any to return to your texts. Your friend from back home has been religiously sending memes during your shifts to get you through the Sukuna days and today is no exception. You laugh at a few of them under your breath.

The day is as uneventful as usual. Sukuna even casts an approving glance in your direction when you correctly answer a customer’s question. He’s not so bad when he isn’t glaring every couple of minutes.

You pray the weather stays sunny in Sukunaland.

Shutting the register as a customer leaves, you turn back inside the store to find Sukuna back to work, hunched over his textbook and regurgitating the information into notes. You opt not to bother him, turning your attention instead to a flickering bulb in the back of the floor. Much like both men have chosen not to mention or fix it, you have too.

Turning your attention back to your phone, you cast a smile at your latest text from Satoru.

5:49 PM Satoru || how’s the pretty newbie handling our favorite co-worker??

5:53 PM You || The weather's looking surprisingly sunny today!!

5:54 PM Satoru || be on the lookout for rain. the weather can change on a dime

5:54 PM You || I can handle a bit of rain

5:55 PM Satoru || i’ll bet you can ;)

There your stomach goes doing flips again. Your thumbs fiddle with the edges of your phone case, pulling at the plastic as you stare at the message with that horrible mix of nerves and your stomach tying in knots. You get so caught up in your own self-doubt, you don’t realize you’re staring at Sukuna, busy with his own phone.

“What?” He gruffs, retaining that hint of annoyance.

“Hm?” You blink, brought back to the present. Before you, Sukuna is leaning against the counter, phone in-hand as his jaw shifts left and right. His lip ring noticeably catches like he’s fiddling with it. “Oh. Sorry.” With a shake of your head, you stare back down at your screen. Your gaze catches on the winky face. The underlying meaning behind it and his text. The impression you’ve probably given off working at a sex toy boutique.

The goddamn butterflies, though. The same ones causing the wave of self-consciousness that you know is foolish. But fuck is it hard not to feel that way when Satoru is undeniably the kind of guy that has people hanging off his shoulder with little to no effort. Your experience shouldn’t matter, but society has taught you to think otherwise.

“Hey,” you speak up on impulse before your mind can catch up to the move your mouth is already making. You can’t be certain whether it’s bravery or stupidity. “You know a lot about what we sell, right?”

His eyes narrow, minute. Just enough to catch your attention. “Yeah. I’m good at my job.”

The dig at your knowledge has you pressing your lips together. God, he’s frustrating. “Asshole.” His brow raises slightly, like something he once deemed uninteresting or unuseful has caught his attention and he’s appraising the situation to find if you’re deserving of it. “Is there, like… a way to improve without watching porn?” You query, worrying your lip between your teeth.

No longer engrossed in his laptop upon noticing your stare, Sukuna’s gaze bores into you. He doesn’t particularly make you uneasy now like he did when you first started, but it is sharp in spite of the evenness behind it. “I told you. Buy toys.”

You suppose you could have been a bit more specific. “No, I know that. A lot of them need a partner, though.”

He waves his hand in disinterest through the air like you’ve already answered your own question and he’s done entertaining any more. “Find one, then.” He’s already looking away as he replies.

You suck in a breath. “I’m from a small town. I just moved here, I don’t really know anyone.”

Sukuna just stares at you again like he expects you to figure it out yourself. His arms cross over his chest, his hip leaned against the counter. It’s not until the air turns stifling, your words hanging a hair too long as you meet his gaze that he cuts the tension with a disbelieving laugh.

“You’re asking me?” You can’t make heads or tails of his expression when it sits somewhere between disbelief and intrigue. It’s akin to the look you got upon calling him an asshole.

“No! Or– maybe? I don’t know.” The wince you shoot him is humiliating as you try to navigate the stormy seas you’ve set yourself sailing through.

“Why don’t you go ask Satoru?” He queries, pushing a hand back through his black-dyed locks like this question was never meant for him. Still, his tone doesn’t give off the impression that he’s irritated by you, so much as something more curious in nature.

Your gaze averts as your jaw hangs open in a frustrating moment of hesitation. Briefly glancing at the texts sitting in your hand is the only tell Sukuna needs, unfortunately able to read you like a book for some god forsaken reason.

“You’ve got to be fucking with me,” he chuckles, airy and amused. He pushes up off the counter, taking a step towards you like he’s laying out a challenge. “You don’t give a shit about the job. You’re trying to impress that fucker.” He rakes his tongue over his teeth, standing over you like he owns this damn conversation.

You cross your arms over your chest, fixing him with your own judgement. “You don’t have to make a big deal out of it.”

He pushes a condescending breath through his nose, smiling with nothing but mockery. “I don’t, but I’m gonna. You two would hit it off.”

Frowning, you opt to not give him the reaction he wants. Your nails dig into the skin of your arm. “I think I liked you better when you didn’t talk as much.”

“Most people do,” he smirks. He steps forward, hands in his pockets as he leans over you. “You still want me to teach you a thing or two, sweetheart?” His tone drips with condescension now that the person he once saw as little more than a pain in his ass has become something he can toy with.

You roll your eyes. You hadn’t expected your quiet co-worker to be this kind of an asshole. Why couldn’t he just say no and move on? Where did all the theatrics come from? “Why are you such a dick?”

“Answer the question,” he deflects, unbothered and painfully egotistical.

You huff, staring at the lemon-shaped vibrator sitting atop the counter that you’ve been contemplating buying for the last hour. “Fine. Yeah, I do.”

He blows a breath through his nose, standing upright again once he’s gotten your admission in his hands. “What’s in it for me?” The way he stands over you, chin tilted, and eyes narrowed, makes you huff.

You hadn’t exactly thought that far ahead. Hell, you didn’t expect to even voice your thoughts out loud. You barely even know enough about him to offer him anything. “I took business as a minor,” you suggest. “I could tutor you.”

“Nah, I’m set.”

You shrug, exasperated. Your hands wave uselessly through the air before plopping back down at your sides. “What do you want, then?”

He regards you with a thoughtful expression. “I’ll train you to close. Doesn’t matter what you’re doing, if I ask you to take my shift, you drop whatever you’re doing and take it.”

You shift your jaw to the left, chewing on the inside of your cheek. You expected worse.

“And you don’t tell Jillian or Satoru you took my shift. I keep the money.”

Ah. There’s the ‘worse’ you expected.

Frowning, you give the nerves in the pit of your stomach a moment to settle over making a deal with the devil. You want to say figuratively but you aren’t so sure. “Fine.” You extend your hand, but the man shakes his head, frowning.

“Rules first, then we shake.” He holds up his pointer. “Don’t tell a soul. Not even your friends back home.” Another finger. “No kissing. No making out. No sex.” He holds up a third finger. “This isn’t a little romantic fantasy thing. This isn’t a relationship. Don’t call this shit friends with benefits or fuck buddies, either. We’re not friends. Don’t expect anything cute from me. Got that?”

You don’t bother holding back a scoff. “I wasn’t going to, trust me.”

He smirks, unbothered. “Good.” His hand extends first this time.

For a long moment, you stare. You contemplate your life choices. You debate just ignoring your fears with Satoru and praying you can play the role of having experience. You equally contemplate just telling him you have no experience and that you’re nervous.

But somehow, the way nerves churn your stomach makes the butterflies worse. You want to squash them. You want to impress Satoru.

And you know. You know it’s stupid. You know you shouldn’t have to impress him, but the heart and mind don’t always connect, do they?

Against your better judgement, you clasp hands with him. You go to do the actual motion of a handshake but he keeps your hand in place. When your gaze raises to meet his in a silent question, he’s scrutinizing every little movement in your features.

His expression doesn’t hold the condescension you expect. His gaze is devoid of amusement, fixated on the frown you bear. “You really sure about this?”

You don’t hesitate to nod.

His eyes narrow a sliver. “Well, aren't you full of surprises?” There’s that hint of assholery. “One more rule.” His hand remains unmoving, still clasped with yours as he holds your gaze. “Either of us can shut this down at any time. It still never gets mentioned.”

You nod. “Agreed.”

Finally, he goes through with shaking your hand. “When are you looking to start?”

Your nose wrinkles at the way he makes it sound. “Do you have to say it like it’s a– I don’t know, job or something?”

“Oh, my bad,” he sneers, his grin too proud. “When do you wanna get fucked?”

You shouldn’t have asked.

Pulling your hand away from him, you rub your temples. You’re definitely not about to prod any further, lest he get more vulgar. “I’m free ton–”

“Not tonight,” he interrupts. “I got someone coming over to study.”

Scheduling ahead doesn’t sit right with you either. “Can we just decide during shifts? See how we’re feeling?”

“Whatever suits you,” he shrugs. The mild arrogance to his tone is… another can of worms to unpack, but as your colleague turns back to his studies, you only have one question for yourself.

What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

main masterlist || series masterlist || next ⪢

౨ৎ a/n ; i hope you enjoyed the first chapter of what will be a VERY kinky series LOLOL. i'm having a lot of fun with these two so far and i hope you are too <3

as a note, i'm trying moving tags to another blog which some of you may have seen due to changes in how tumblr's bot detection system is working, so please bear with me while i figure out how to not get my account flagged while doing taglists 🙃 edit; it's not working. if you weren't tagged, bear with me while i try to figure it out :')

౨ৎ taglist ; OPEN. age must be visible in bio. 18+ only. @gojosoups @yenayaps @m3owr3ow @tohru-tales @crimzie129 @lostgxrlblog @sterzin @scaraamo @sunyomz @norahlolzz @whateverineedsblog @buttclencher28 @blueemochii @pequnopastel @cupidxml @saintdilucc @officiallydrunk @yvannaille @brazzigy @ilovebeansyay @deewrites01 @martianzmars @volleyballgirl2022 @mtchamnsta @astrokenny @ge3ked @ri-sa20 @heichouaack @iluvgetosuguru @winkii @dishs0pe @renoamio @slutty-chronicles @elixoq @bam-boozledx @serinabean @schnunny @yoniknows @k1yomee @14pxa @imrandomstuffsblog @sixeyes0607 @tokyolhtl @ellybell2 @lalilou21 @weiiraru @torusangelface @hastletea @naomikozura @crunchycathy

What Osiris didn't expect, however, was the jealousy his dear friend possessed, as if ruling half of the country wasn't enough. As if he needed to grasp full control, make other deities weep under his hand, set a merciless regime upon Egypt and its people, always fearful of this one, unpredictable God.

He had lots of favouritism, however, from the highest of all – Ra, the Goddess of the Sun herself, who treated him gently and stood behind him quietly. Her sly eyes liked his brute and power, a thought of him being a rightful ruler coiling in her mind often, but she couldn't take his side openly, for the fate of her other deity children.

People of the upper lands build temple upon temple, Set's godly figures standing proudly, facing his red land – the desert – as if believers wished for him to protect them from the smell of passing filling these deadly sands. Pharaohs prayed too, the rulers of foreign lands cherished him, as a voice of everything bringing difference and chaos, including foreigners.

The friendship between him and Osiris bloomed, as if the merciful God was the only one able to tame the ferocious beast. The most powerful one who walked along the sandstorms wielding a scepter, his chariot bringing fear, a beastly mask making people kneel till the skin of their knees was bloody red from the sizzling sun.

Thus, how could it happen that such a loyalty ended up with Osiris's body cut through and through in madness, with his chamber looking rather like a bloody bathhouse? What thought has pushed the God of Storms to such deception? How could he have killed the ruler of Egypt himself?

And how could other Gods allow him to take over Osiris's throne just like that?

"My dear child," the voice of your mother was soft as her hands, cupping your cheeks gently. "The day is coming, you know of it, right?"

You nodded faintly, golden hoops clinking with the move of your head. She looked at you with love and tiredness, soft hair caressing the tip of your nose as she hugged you lovingly, with a faint tremble of her body.

"Mother," you started, hearing her weeping. "Mother, it's alright. I can do it, don't have any other choice."

And true it was, because as the only daughter of long-dead Osiris, the child no one knew of, you finally needed to go for what was rightfully yours. The throne of Egypt.

You weren't a deity yet, though of divine blood born, and the Goddess name given you was Horus, for the birds that always surrounded you and kissed your cheeks gently, bringing you a piece of sky to your body, hidden carefully in the deepest chambers of Isis's temple. She was a great mother, right Goddess, a crucial one, caring for magic, fate itself even, but she wasn't strong enough to overrule the slayer.

None of the Gods was, as Set was the most powerful deity, the most treacherous one, with a scepter heavier than Duat's monsters, making the pantheon tremble every time it hit the ground. In fact, you also couldn't defeat him by power itself, but wished for the Godly court to acknowledge your right to the throne. And maybe keep you safe, before he would wish to kill you.

Because he'll try to, and that's why your mother was weeping like a child, drenching your white robes with her tears. You were the only child they had conceived before your father's death, and a woman at that – truly unfortunate! For if you were a son, winning the power back would be much easier. Maybe you could even try to conquer Set, though the heavens would collapse before anyone could do it.

The faithful day came faster than you wished for, and now, it was time to walk proudly towards the Ennead, with other deities eyeing you up. Something bubbled in your throat, while a heavy falcon mask rested on your head. The white robe hung loose on your body, draping shoulders and legs, down to your ankles, making you look rather boyish and slim. Your mother didn't want to reveal your gender, yet, as it would be safe to do after the official approval of the council. But, well, how truly powerful the council was if they couldn't overthrow Set's cruel regime?

Your breath quickened when you took the next steps towards the great temple where Ennead – all nine, no, now eight gods, forming a rightful court – waited for the meeting your mother had called. She was there too, as you entered the hall, sitting with others high and mighty, with golden thrones hidden under the marble arch, their eyes watching you as your legs moved across the sandy road, under the blazing sun, and nothing but a deep wish for it to already end.

The meeting was set in the temple of Maat, Goddess of Truth and Justice, the one who weighs the hearts of the dead in Duat, a deity who could herself decide the truthfulness of your words and abolish the trickery of the usurper. And your mother was quite satisfied with this place too, because if there was someone Maat despised the most, it was the embodiment of chaos and brutality itself – Set.

And you saw him right away.

The moment you stepped inside the temple, he was there. Standing lazily in front of the deities, with arms crossed, one hand clutching a long scepter ending with a blade, reflecting the cold, marble columns of the temple.

Massive. That was the first word that came to your mind.

No, monstrous.

Your mother told you of him, and you should expect the God of War himself to be well-built, but you truly misjudged your expectations.

Set – or Sukuna, as his non-godly name sounded – was a monster himself, at least twice as tall and broad as you. His back was turned your way, wide as dunes, rising in peaks of heavy muscle beneath sun-kissed skin slick with heat. Droplets of sweat traced slow paths down his golden surface, catching the scorching light of the rising sun. Black tattoos wrapped tightly around his body, intricate and deliberate, for now visible only across his back and—

Four arms.

Oh God.

The temple suddenly fell quiet, smaller deities standing around with mouths gaping, glancing between you and Sukuna. He didn't look your way even for a moment, with his back proudly straight and chin up, muttering something about wasting his time and sighting heavily.

He didn't look at you even as you stood in the same line as him, though at least two meters away, keeping the distance as he truly could wrap one of his four hands around your throat if he wished to.

Your breath was ragged, head filled with thoughts, and eyes suddenly bulged as you looked at him secretly.

A heavy mask rested upon his head, grazing his shoulders. Its long ears ended in squared tips, a dark snout curving downward, eyes deeply set and fixed toward the court with stillness. You could not see his face – no more than anyone could see yours beneath the blue falcon mask that hid you from the nose up. Yet what little was visible betrayed his strength – a sharp, defined chin, lips pressed into a firm line. Black markings ran from his jaw down his neck to his chest, hugging the authority of his body.

Your gaze drifted lower despite yourself, tracing the breadth of his shoulders, the four burly arms flexing subtly, the solid muscles of his chest and abdomen carved as if from sandstone. And then–

Dear Lord.

Was that… a mouth?

He stood still beneath the blazing Egyptian sun, divine and dreadful all at once – a true god and a monster.

"Child," a feminine voice has suddenly spoken, and a woman with feathers on her arms stood in front of the Ennead – Maat. Your mother was there, glancing at Sukuna with the tip of her finger between lips, as if trying to predict his reaction. "Please, let us know your name."

You gulped, mask showing nothing but a part of your cherry cheeks, as you glanced at all eight Gods sitting in front of you. "I present under my divine name Horus."

Small Gods murmured, their eyes never leaving your white-clothed figure, with golden bracelets hugging your still arms.

"And who are your parents, child?" She asked again, with a soft voice. It sounded sweet as honey, pleasant to your ears as you once again took a deep breath.

"My mother–"

"And who the fuck cares?" a voice thundered through the temple, low and heavy, silencing all the murmurers solely with the darkness of its tone. The hit of the metallic scepter followed, and the floor shook.

Sukuna cleared his throat, two upper arms crossed on his broad chest, lower ones hanging loosely, with one clenched around the tall pole.

"My God, please use proper language," Her voice was stern when she scolded him, with feathers on her arms tensing.

"Then speak quicker," Sukuna barked. "I showed you mercy by not ruining this council, so stop wasting my time."

"My God, this council serves other deities and believers, too. We do not aim to infer your rule. However–"

But Maat's words seemed to pick Sukuna's attention, with his body tensing slightly. Before he could bark another order, however, one of the eight Gods interrupted. "Maat, could you please tell us what the reason is for the Ennead meeting? My God, please grace us a bit of your time."

Maat took the golden scroll clutched in her hands and rolled it slowly, with a gentle frown appearing between her brows. It seemed like no one besides you and your mother knew the reason for the meeting, and this alone made you stress even more.

"The meeting was held at the request of Goddess Isis. She wants the council to consider this child and its godly lineage, for its mother is the Goddess of Magic herself and Father..." Her voice suddenly flattened, as if stuck in her throat. Lips parted, eyes gazing between you and Sukuna, with a trace of some strange sense. Dread? Concern?

"Who is it?" The council asked.

"And Father is God of Fertility, Osiris."

It was fast.

Too fast.

Something you should have expected and prepared for, but truly didn't have time. As before you saw your mother's widening eyes and Maat turning towards the council, you already couldn't breathe.

Two strong hands clenched on your throat, picking you up, up, up, till your feet were hanging loosely in the air, lungs burning, gaze on the same level as the eyes of a beastly mask.

It was pure chaos, with your mother's screams ringing somewhere, the council having no power whatsoever over the raging monster that grabbed your weak body, and other deities looking at you with compassion. Such an unfortunate child, to stand in front of the usurpator himself without any guard!

"My God, please!" your mother cried, lips trembling at the sight of your nails scratching Sukuna's hands relentlessly, from palms till forearms, leaving bloody trails over his burning skin.

"A child, huh? So your whorish mother somehow managed to keep you hidden for that many years." He murmured, voice low enough to speak solely to you. "Aren't you just a weakling for a man? What, wanted to take the throne back? Challenge me?"

But you couldn't say anything, with your chest shrinking under the shortage of breath and fingers trying to loosen his merciless grip.

"Say something, boy. That's what you came here for." Sukuna laughed deeply, looking at your wringing body, till... till something caught his eye.

He didn't see it before, skipping your weak posture and not gracing you with a single glance, but from that close, your body didn't look masculine at all. In fact, his third hand grazed the arc of your ass and the slim of your waist, fingers going up, up, up, till it met with something soft and heavy.

The next second, your flushed face and bloodshot eyes met with long beams of sunshine. Mask dropped heavily down the sand, letting loose hair cup your rosy cheeks, drenched with weighty tears, smooching your skin. It was bright, too bright, with all the deities looking at your face – very red, very delicate, very feminine. As none of them expected a woman hiding under the falcon's mask, with her look so lovely and cheeky, it made some hearts tremble in sympathy.

But it seemed Sukuna was shocked too, as his fingers loosened up a little, his lips opened, as if he wanted to throw your way another filthy comment.

Before he managed, however, he completly lost his grip and dropped you down on soft sand. Heavy cough shook your body, air tasting like the sweetest treat, as you took deep breaths to calm your burning lungs.

Your eyes looked up, seeing God in a rather odd position – tied by golden threads. All four of his arms behind his back, neck bound to wrists, wrists lashed to ankles, as he kneeled down with muscles bulging under the flimsy rope.

"What a sight!" A deep voice cut through the air, before the crowd gasped.

Something, someone, entered the temple, with a halo around their body so radiant, you could swear that the Goddess of the Sun herself had descended to earth.

And, well, it seems you were right.

For a myth clothed in white, almost misty robes was walking your way, with sun-kissed hips swaying swiftly and heavy breasts covered by long, black hair. She looked breathtaking, potent, with a gaze so intense it made your eyes drop immediately, glancing nowhere but at your bare feet. Her voice was low but gentle, almost motherly, with a hint of cheekiness, for the Goddess of the Sun was the mightiest deity, more powerful than Osiris himself, and all the current gods came directly from her womb.

"My Goddess," the council spoke quietly, bowing their heads. "What brings you here?"

But Goddess of the Sun, Ra, simply waved her hand, standing next to kneeling Sukuna.

"Oh my, you truly wanted to kill this sugar, hm?" She giggled quietly, seeing God of War himself in such a pathetic state. Although if he wished, he certainly could break the golden thread with the sole force of his arms.

But the Goddess of the Sun always liked him the most and treated him with kindness; killing her would be not only a hassle but a waste.

"Ra, what are you doing?" He muttered, golden lines digging into his skin.

Goddess looked rather cheeky when her deep, lined eyes moved to you.

"You've grown up to be such a beautiful woman. Although presenting yourself like that was rather foolish," She giggled and helped you stand up. "You truly look like him."

Her words seemed to echo in the speechlessness of the temple, forcing other deities to furrow their foreheads and raise the whispers once again. Including Ennead, for they tilted their heads, as if in mishearing.

"My Goddess," Maat started. "You knew about all of it?"

"Of course! I'm the Goddess of Sun, know of everything going on down here."

Maat cleared her throat, trying once again. "My Goddess, you should've informed us of Osirisi's heir. We could've–"

But Ra scoffed and rolled her eyes, fingers grazing your soft cheeks. "And you would do what? Let this brute kill the baby? Oh, please, this is much more entertaining!"

Because one thing the Goddess of the Sun was known for was her love of amusement. She wasn't usually meddling with the affairs of deities nor the council per se, but if there was a chance to gain something and have much fun with it, Ra would be the first one take her pleasure. She didn't rule like she used to, but remained the most powerful God in the whole pantheon, appearing here and there as she wished, but never siding with anyone directly.

Well, at least that's how it should be, but her favour of Set was built upon years of his protection and serving loyally by her side. He was the killer of one god, but the guardian of another. Such an odd man!

"My Goddess, according to the law, she's the one who ought to claim the throne. Does it mean that Set–"

But Ra sighted deeply, kohl-lined eyes with a gentle swirl at the ends glued to your face, as if thinking what to do with such a pure child!

"Yes, it means she should claim it–"

"You whor–" Sukuna started, but golden threads suddenly put him in a muzzle.

"But!" Ra raised her finger, eyes glancing back at the tamed monster. "God of War is a current ruler, thus it's only fair for them to compete."

The silence that fell in the temple was, well, heavy would be an overstatement.

Compete? You? Has she seen your body? Has she seen his body?

If she meant to compare your powers, you had nothing on the thousand-year-old God of War, who could raze the whole of Egypt to the ground with a single hit of his scepter.

"What do you mean by 'compete', my Goddess?" Maat furrowed her brows, looking at the cheerfulness that filled the woman.

"Well, think about it! Do you truly believe that giving a throne to a girl like her, with zero knowledge of ruling or battling, would be smart? Maybe she is Osiris's daughter, but he's been long dead, and we moved on!" She laughed loudly, raising a wave of murmurs. In the corner of your eye, you saw your mother's clenched jaw and fingers digging into the golden throne. "Let them have a competition then. The one who wins will rule Egypt."

She then glanced between you and Sukuna, his arms wriggling under the golden thread, mouth tightly shut, and you wished to his face fully, just to have a peek at the fury that must have filled his eyes.

"What do you say, dears? Do you want to compete for power?" She looked you straight in the eyes, as if feeling your hesitation. "Don't worry, dear, you won't have to fight him directly."

You could almost feel the gaze of your mother putting a hole through your skull, so you agreed with a gentle nod of your head. Ra moved her gaze to Sukuna before snapping her fingers. Golden thread left his body as he took a deep breath and stood up straight, towering over both of you.

He didn't say a word first, deep eyes of a beastly mask looking at you from above, with four arms this time crossed on his chest and abs. The mouth on his abdomen was closed, and maybe you noticed a hint of curiosity swirling in your mind, over how it could feel–

"Good," Sukuna almost roared, sending chills down your spine.

"Excellent!" Ra clapped her hands. "Maat, dear, you know what to do!"

Maat sighed, looking at the council who could truly do nothing but nod their heads and let Goddess of the Sun have her fun.

Something suddenly panged in your chest, as if moving, wriggling, trying to run off, and before you noticed, your heart appeared in Maat's left hand, with another one, twice bigger, in her right. She put them both on the golden scale in front of her, the same one she used to weigh sins of the dead.

"Then both of you agree and promise to participate in contendings for the rule of Egypt lawfully and fairly, is that right?" Maat said, glancing at warm hearts beating slowly on the golden plates.

"Yes." Both you and Sukuna answered.

"Both of you agree to partake in events chosen randomly by the Ennead and give rule to the one who'll win at least three, is that correct?"

"What a crap, I could just kill her if I wanted to," Sukuna muttered, fingers itching just to grab your neck once again.

But this time, maybe in a different setting, as those pouty lips of yours, together with wet, blushed eyes, somehow couldn't leave his mind.

"Set," Maat started slowly, as if trying to calm a ferocious beast. "If you win, you'll be acknowledged as the rightful ruler of Egypt, and the council will strip you of the usurper's name. Noone will ever try to seize your throne, non interefere your rule in any way."

Sukuna tilted his head, black ears following his move, as if thinking about having pathetic competition with this brat or just killing her on the spot.

"Fine." He finally grumbled.

"Good, it's settled then. The competition will start in four days, till then you may stay here and relax." She turned towards the council, waiting for the row of their nods. "I announce the meeting of Ennead as finished."

𓂀 𓂀 𓂀

The first day has passed quietly. You settled in your chamber, and a temple was big enough to have both you and Sukuna without ever letting you meet one another.

Your mother wept for some time, apologising for the mess and such an unpredictable turn of events, cursing the Goddess of the Sun with the harshest words you've ever heard from her lips. You tried to console her (walls have ears!) and ensure that the competition would surely be fair, although you didn't believe it yourself. For how else should you fight for the throne if not by using power?

And as she couldn't stay with you inside the Maat's temple, she left in the evening of the first day, kissing you goodbye and promising to convince the Ennead and beg them to show your grace.

On the second day, you walked around the place and enjoyed being alone for the first time, as till now your life had been focused on nothing but planning the overthrow of Sukuna. Maat's temple laid between the dunes, in deep parts of Lower Egypt, far away from the Upper region ruled by Set. You wondered how she felt to have the embodiment of chaos itself under her roof, the trickster and brute, who represented everything she tried to get rid of in this world. But she was too good and needed to stay objective, thus constantly hiding in her chamber just to not meet Sukuna himself.

You walked these corridors as if the temple belonged to yourself only, glancing at tall, stony walls painted with Maat's myths and mixing in rays of colour, wrapping around columns up to the roof. Dunes from the huge window of your chamber looked magnificent during the day, but even more beautiful in the night, with the temple's gentle torches lighting the paths leading towards the desert.

"The view is better from the bathhouse." Maat mentioned the third day, and you decided to use her offer.

Thus, in the evening, draped only in white, flowy robes, easy to put on, but even easier to slip off, you went towards the bathhouse. Warm fire of the torches kissed your skin gently, leading your bare feet straight to the big chamber, with nothing but a huge pool and sparkling stars looking at your bare body. It seemed empty and quiet, if you didn't count the quiet whispers of the sand as it moved together with a cheerful wind. The desert was usually cold at night, but hot water warmed your body, wetting your feet and calves, going up till your soft belly and the swell of your breast, dipping under blue waves.

"Oh dear," you moaned quietly, tilting head back. It truly was relaxing, and the dunes looked splendid, dancing before your gentle eyes like an oasis.

All the stress for tomorrow's event suddenly vanished, with the warm water and the hum of sand clearing your body of all the worries.

But it seemed as if your time couldn't last long, as soon you heard a pair of heavy footsteps moving up behind you. Your eyes were closed, but the moment water dribbled, you opened them carefully, peeking at the person who caused water to spill over the pool's edge.

And you wished to leave this bathhouse immediately.

As the small waves were moved by his muscular body and meaty thighs, prodding the pool to sit right in front of you.

Sukuna.

But this time, without his beastly mask.

Just pinkish hair and ferociously crimson eyes, looking your way with the heaviest stare you've ever felt, almost pushing into the pool's wall behind you. His face was sharp and handsome, absolutely stunning, with almond eyes sitting deep right above the slightly bumped nose and pursed lips. You noticed two smaller eyes right on his cheeks and black tattoos carving his face like a godly tablet. He sat lazily, with four arms draped over the edge and massive thighs opened. The bathhouse's water was, unfortunately for you, crystal clear, and your eyes dilated, breath hitched at the sight of two–

"What are you looking at, brat?" He chortled, carefully following the gentle blush that bloomed on your cheeks, and hands trying to immediately cover up your breasts. "Why? Shy? Just a second ago, you were looking at me quite openly."

"I wasn't." You mumbled, thinking whether you should stay and try to rest or leave this monster alone.

Sukuna tipped his head, humming softly under his nose. "Do you truly believe that you can win against me?"

You didn't respond, closing your eyes once again to gain a bit of long-gone peace. He looked amused, following the curve of your breasts and the softness of your belly. Thighs clenched on the bench, with clear water giving him a perfect look at the mound of your cunt.

"I could defeat you without using strength." He added, something in his lower parts budging, at the mere sight of your lips that grimaced at his words.

"We'll see tomorrow." You stated, trying to finish this dilly-dally again.

"I don't know what you'll see, but surely I will see myself getting the throne back."

Your eyes abruptly opened, brows wrinkled, as moved by his foolish words. "You truly are arrogant, my God. Not only have you killed my father without a reason, but you also think of the throne as yours to take. Laws were made to be obeyed."

The corners of his lips suddenly turned up in a sneaky grin as he watched your face turn feverishly red. "Without a reason? That's what your whorish mother has told you?" Your mouth parted, as if stupefied. "Besides, I'm a God of War, Chaos," He lifted his fingers, twirling them gently. A part of a high dune on the horizon rose, till it soon flattened down with the rest of the desert. "Sand. You truly think that laws mean anything to me?"

He straightened up, unshameful eyes outlining your body up and down, resting longer on parted lips and pulled thighs. "If they did, maybe I wouldn't kill your father."

His words tore your heart apart, but lustful gaze and quiet voice made your stomach turn. You wished to hate him (truly!), but it was the first time someone had looked at you like that. With a look you could only compare to a starving jackal, strolling around its prey in circles, lingering patiently for its last breath. He had you at the length of his arm, and if he wanted to, he could easily grab your neck and pull you straight to his hardening cocks. Plural form indeed.

But he didn't. Just waited, patiently, as you wriggled under his eyes, trying to look everywhere, but not at his naked body and muscles upon muscles.

The air was tense, heavy, sticky with a sweat dripping from both of your bodies and filling your throat until breathing became difficult.

You needed to end this, quickly.

But before you stood up, his deep voice slashed through your ears once again. "Try to run away, and I'm gonna tie those pretty legs of yours."

His crimson eyes followed every frown of your forehead, gentle eyes gazing at him with fear, wet lips opening and closing, as if thinking how to deal with a brute of his sort.

"You can't hurt me according to law," you mumbled on one breath. "Why don't you just wait till tomorrow to kill me?"

And then – he laughed. Deeply, till his chest trembled and something in your core clenched. For all of his arms stretched towards you, long enough to graze the sizzling skin of your cheek. His thumb alone was thrice the size of your nose, and when it brushed your parted lips, you could do nothing but open them under his heavy touch.

"I don't want to kill you, brat," he muttered, feeling your warm breath hugging his calloused skin. "You know what's the easiest way to defeat God?"

You frowned, head shaking. The grin on his face looked devilishly handsome.

"Of course you don't, you're nothing but a stupid girl. Tell you what," his fingers dropped down to your chin, neck, wrapping around your skin brutally, but gently enough to still let you breathe. "Your whorish mother should have taught you this while keeping you closed. We, Gods of Egypt, have morals too, and according to our custom, the easiest way to overpower someone is to make them consume..." Oh, you knew. You've heard of it, read about it in books that sat dusty in Isis's temple. Skimming then sinfully, with a blushing shame, reading about that stuff between Gods and humans, though never experiencing them yourself.

For a God to lose their face in front of another one, they needed to consume their semen!

Sukuna chuckled, noticing your bulging eyes. "But, well, you found yourself in a pretty uncomfortable position here. And you know why, right?"

You glanced up, meeting his crimson gaze and tilted head, pinkish hair slightly wet from a floating steam and muscles dripping with sweat.

Of course, you knew.

"Because I'm a woman."

Thus, even if you desired, there was no way for you to defile Sukuna. But as for him...

And within the next second, you were suddenly pulled. All of his hands on your body – neck, waist, thighs – seating your dripping cunt riiiight on his two hard cocks. You strangled his hips with a shuddered breath, eyes on the same level as his, hands placed gently on his broad chest, lower belly stuck to–

"Mhmm," you moaned quietly, feeling a long and heavy muscle tasting the sweatiness of your skin.

Mouth on his abdomen opened, grazing your belly with its sharp teeth, kissing it gently with its tongue, going down down down, till you felt it on your mound.

"Smart girl, aren't you?" He chuckled, taking the wholeness of your face.

Flushed cheeks, rinsed like cherries, dimmed eyes with little droplets swirling in their corners, parted lips with sweet, little moans escaping from your clenched throat. You shuddered when his lower mouth bit the plush of your belly, tongue trying to go down lower, just to taste the sweetness of your cunt. And sweet it must've been indeed, because he couldn't stop thinking about your scent and the softness of your skin from that feral moment.

"But I'm not a brute like your father, so say that you want it, hm?" his voice dropped, one hand moving up to the swell of your breasts, thumb brushing the perked nipple gently. "Say that you want it, and we'll make a deal."

"W-what dea–mhmmm," you tried to ask, but your voice suddenly fell flat upon feeling the wet tongue swirling around your nipple.

Another mouth?

Sukuna chuckled, all four hands keeping your wiggling body tight in place – two on your asscheeks, parting them slightly and moving along his cocks, one around your throat, one on your flushed tits. And as monstrous as he was, he could manhandle your melting body using the tiniest bit of his power. You arched, feeling his heavy cocks catching on your dripping pussy, water flowing over the edge of the pool as you gripped his muscular shoulders.

"C-can you please s-stop for j-just a moment," you somehow choked out, nevertheless softening into his body like a slut, rubbing over his shafts, soaking them with gummy saps. Both of his hands moved your hips up, till they finally met with the cunning tongue of his lower mouth.

"Why? Distracted? Do you wish for me to do it tomorrow in front of your mother?"

Oh dear, you jerked at this sheer thought, but words caught in your throat the moment his lower tongue gave you meaaaan and filthy jolt. Its monstrous size wrapping around your whole cunt, licking, slurping, curving your drenched folds solely with its tip.

His fingers gripped the curve of your ass, moving your cunt up and down on his fatty tongue. And you tasted so fucking delicious. He wouldn't admit it outloud, but the moment his mouth swallowed the first droplets of your slick, something in his chest shook, cocks hardned, feeling the sugary sweetness of your drenched cunt.

"Let's make a deal, then. You," heavyyy lick. "Will back out of the trial."

"N-no–"

Teeth of his monstrous mouth bit your clit, till you deflected, back arching from the painful pleasure that dripped down your spine.

"Shut up, brat, let me speak. I will be the ruler of Egypt. But," as if feeling your pain, his mouth quickly gave you another lick, sucking on your plumped clit gently, pushing its tip through your squeezing folds, licking every corner of your dripping cunt. "You will rule with me. As my wife."

You moaned needily, desperately, feeling spongy muscle inside your pussy, big enough to already fill you up, tormenting this one chubby spot, till a gentle fog covered your eyes.

"A w-wife?"

Sukuna moved your hips, droplets of sweat forming on his temple because, fucking God, he had never eaten out a cunt like this, so creamy and sweet, moving together with his tongue like a good slut, leaking all over his meaty thighs and catching on his throbbing cocks till a faint, almost unhearable groan bubbled in his throat. Your walls clenched around his tongue, lips mumbled something under your sugary breath, as you wrapped your arms around his neck, with fingers tugging pinkish strands.

"What? Thought you wanted to rule? Do you think a weak woman like you could do it alone?" He chuckled, upper hands moving to the curve of your back, pushing you gently towards his broad chest. And you felt too good and fucked to care, feeling his breath tickling the plush skin of your ears. "I'm gonna give you a power, you will give me lots of successors, hm? That's the best I can offer, brat. Don't even try to challenge me, or I will fuck you stupid and fill you with my cum in front of your mother."

His words echoed in your head, lower tongue lapping through your folds relentlessly, teeth grazing your mound, tip pushing against the spongy spot, swallowing sweet and creamy cum that trickled down its meaty muscles.

"So?" he pushed, thumb of his upper hand cupping your drenched cheeks, crimson eyes looking straight at yours. Fucked, defeated, gleaning at him humbly, pathetically, with salty tears wetting the pads of his fingers. He leaned closer, lips licking droplets from your rosy cheeks, kissing you messily, going down, down, till he swallowed another moan escaping your throat. "Will you be my wife?"

You didn't really have time nor opportunity to think it over, already feeling a warmth coiling somewhere in your lower belly and walls clenching around his tongue. So you nodded politely, moving your hips up and down, up and down, riding his muscle like a good little slut.

"That's my girl," he grinned devilishly, and a moment later stood up, lifting you with his one arm. The pleasure you felt suddenly dissolved in your belly, warmth quickly disappearing, and a faint growl escaped your lips.

He chuckled, feeling a disappointment coming from your clenched cunt. "Don't complain, brat. I'm gonna stretch this cunt till you'll beg for me to stop."

He moved swiftly, walking his monstrous figure through the empty halls of the temple, with your body hanging off his shoulder and beefy arm keeping you in place. Torches licked your damp bodies, water trickling down from your fingers, droplets moving between the muscles of his back, carving roads, down till meaty thighs. You wriggled on his shoulder, till he finally placed his palm in front of your soaked cunt, smaller tongue rippling your folds once again.

"Such a needy slut, aren't you?" he grumbled, hand moving closer, with wet lips sucking on your pudgy, exposed clit. "No one ever taught you to be patient? I'll fuck this bratiness out of you."

You could only mewl and soften on his shoulder, legs slightly widening, fingers curling at the feel of this warmth coiling in your belly once again. Seconds later, your back landed on a soft mattress, with clean beddings hugging your naked body, cushions put under your hips, lifting them up up for Sukuna's heated look.

His sanity was hanging by a thread, eyes taking in the plumpness of your thighs, slick dripping down the mattress, knees slightly pushed against your chest, giving him a perfect look at your cunt flapping around nothing. He pushed one finger in, and it sucked him right away, as if in hunger and despair.

"Mhmmm, my God," you whimpered, keeping your legs open, wriggling under the crimson stare of his squinted eyes. "P-please–"

"Please, what? Do you even know what you're asking for?" He spat, a heavy glob leaking directly on your pulsing cunt, melting under the gentle curls of his thumb on your clit.

"P-please put them i-in," your small hands wrapped around his two cocks, putting them riiiight on your shaking belly.

Saying they were massive would be an understatement.

Monstrous? Yes, more like it.

More red than Sukuna's eyes, leaking with sticky precum right on your skin, the sheer length allowing them to go inside your womb straight away, maybe even up to your belly button. Veins curled around both shafts, and it seemed to Sukuna that you were too lost in pleasure to think about them with a sober mind. Because even he started to wonder where all this courage and sluttiness of yours suddenly came from, with little fingers grasping his cocks and gently swiping their feverish heads.

"Want it inside," you whined, cunt still leaking over his single finger already too fat for your clenching walls.

But Sukuna wasn't known for patience or mercy, being a rather brute God from whom female deities tried to stay away. For he never took a wife and used women only to meet his needs. Stories slipping from his chambers always involved a bit of violence and blood, as not one woman was able to withstand his ruthlessness.

It seemed, however, that with you it was different. Felt different. He couldn't really describe this sense, but he wished to give you pleasure only, worship your body till it'll melt under his touch, stuff you full of his cocks and move them gently along your clenching walls, watching the little tears dripping down your chin and enjoying short cries filling his chamber.

And when you spat on your hand, smearing it all over one of his reddened heads, something cracked.

He moved his cocks to your entrance, firstly pushing one. Cruelly. The first stretch felt absolutely brutal, with his wetted shaft going slowly through your walls, pushing against your muscles to let them fit its heaviness.

"N-no, I t-take it back!" You moaned, filling the fatness of his girth filling solely your entrance.

He didn't wait for a second one, because quite soon you felt its head hooking on your hole, stretching your cunt even wider, nasty, with your muscles pounding and head spinning. Black dots started to slowly cover your sight, head lulled back, hands on his belly, trying to push him away. "M-my God, p-please s-slower."

"I can't go any fucking slower," he barked, and you indeed noticed a droplet of sweat forming on his temple. Eyes closed, brows creased, all four arms quivered, when he glued your knees to your chest, pushing allll of his massive body on your weak figure. "Just endure it, fuck. It's gonna get better."

But in fact – it didn't.

At least for a while, because your poor hole took him in raw and needy, with new slick forming around his shaft and soaking it sweetly. His sun-kissed skin glowed under the gentle flames of candles, gaze focused solely on your fluttering hole, with creamy cum looking so delicious, his lower mouth opened once again. Its long tongue started off your pulsing clit, slowly going down to your plugged hole and licking it gently, to give his cocks even more slippery.

Breath knocked out of your lungs, throat tensed when he moved, forcing himself even farther. Seeing how difficult it was for you, with little hiccups melting with moans, his hand cupped your chin, crimson eyes meeting yours.

"Breath, brat. If you want to take them, breathe. That's right, go on, my good fucking girl," he talked you through it, following your slowly rising and falling chest, teary eyes glancing at him with a fever, and hands, slowly, slowly, tangling around his neck. "You're doing so good, so fucking good. Try to relax a bit, because your sweet cunt will cut my dicks off any second."

You purred, feeling his tongue on your neck, teeth grazing your jaw, cocks ripping you raw.

He pushed, with a filthy squelch, till you cried pitifully and clenched on his cocks again, feeling him forcing his way through the tight ring of your muscles. The tear felt delicious, and a fiery pain suddenly disappeared when his shafts kissed your cervix. Mouth on his belly was still working on your pudgy clit, sucking, licking, mewling it, till a shiver went down your spine and head tilted back.

"You see, it wasn't that hard, right?"

"Mhmm m-my God," you bubbled, mind stuppidly foggy.

"You're so tight, fuck. Never had a cunt like this," he licked the skin of your neck, smooched your cheeks, till his lips finally met with yours, eating all the little moans that fled them.

But when his balls finally met with your ass, full cocks placed heavily inside your cunt, he backed off.

Straightened, upper hands pushing the back of your thighs, lower hands on your waist, gripping tight. He was monstrous, towering, with a chest rising heavily, crimson eyes looking down at you with a madness.

"My God?" you asked nervously, seeing the crafty grin that suddenly arose on his face.

"I tried to be gentle, you know?"

Oh.

"It's your first time, right?" he pulled out, viciously, till nothing but tips sat tightly in your cunt.

"But now that you're stretched, I can finally fuck you fully. Don't you agree?"

"W-wait–"

But before you could protest, his hips buckled quickly, brutally, stuffing you with a single move. It was too much, with his cocks almost in your lungs, pressing your belly, filling its little pouch. Breath suddenly stuck in your throat, fresh tears trickling down your cheeks, when the tongue of his belly licked your clit, filthy.

"That's it," he groaned, head lulled back as he took the full pleasure of your walls clamping on his cocks and cervix already swollen from his furious strokes. "That's the pussy I'll kill for, fucking hell," His gaze dropped at you – your pudgy lips, with a saliva dripping down its corners, crossed eyes, and blush spreading all over your chest. "I'm gonna move baby, and you'll take it like a good slut, hm? Gonna stuff you full with my cum till you'll feel it right here," he pressed the bulging pouch on your belly, touching his pulsing heads right through your skin.

And you truly couldn't do anything else than just nod, as he once again pulled out and sank deep with balls hitting your ass, setting the brutal pace, pumping pumping pumping your pussy with his fat griths, smiling slyly upon hearing blubbered moans pushing from your throat.

He truly was cruel, sucking on your clit relentlessly, licking your burning hole sweetly. One hand cupped your jaw, smearing the salty tears all over it, forcing you to look straight into his bloody eyes.

And nothing turned him on more than a gentle melody of your cries and this timid gaze, making his cocks tremble in excitement.

Nothing but filthy squelch squelch squelch was filling his chamber, with you bent in cruel mating press, ass up, slick dripping down your cunt, both cocks splitting you open.

"Such a filthy girl," he growled, thrusting faster, harder, crimson eyes taking in all of your frowns and mewls. "So fucking tight, my sweet cunt. Swallowing me up so obediently, like a good wife you'll be."

You took him inch by inch, every thrust, every shiver, your walls clamping on him feverishly, drenching his shafts in new portions of creamy cum. Moans became so high, he needed to shut you up with a kiss, messy and nasty, kissing, licking your lips, drinking the lovely tune of your voice with a tremble.

"M-my God it feels sooo good, mhmm," you mewled, trying to melt your hand with his fingers, but he gripped your wrists and placed them over your head.

And then you felt it – this warmth coiling in your belly, hitched breath, shortened moand and back arching slightly together with his brutal thrusts and obscene moans.

You were close. So, so close. Gripping him wildly, meeting his thrusts with a frenetic move of your hips, going insane from his lower mouth running mean circles on your clit. The pleasure was maddening, the chamber filled with nothing but filthy slapping of his cocks and his growls, going deep down your throat.

"Ngh, m-my God, I'm g-gonna," you babbled, his true name slipping up between your heavy breath and wet moans.

"I know, brat. Come on, cum for me, let me fill you up sweetly," you nodded, his lips turning in grin. "Such a good fucking girl, my slutty queen, so hungry for my cum, hm? Come on, let me fuck you full and pregnant, fill this heavy tits with milk," your eyes crossed, head lolled back, globs of spit trickled from your lips.

You screamed, convulsed, rolled your hips against his, feeling every tremble, every vein of his sizzling shafts. He pounded you like a madman, pressing his monstrous body against yours, cocks sinking balls deep, kissing your pounding womb with each thrust.

High moan escaped your throat as he worked his way inside you, moulding your walls just to fit his beastly size. Hips jerking, thighs shaking as you felt the warmth in your belly finally spill, clit pulsing under Sukuna's wet tongue, drenching his abdomen mouth with your juices, as it swallowed them hungrily with a final lick.

Sukuna finally stilled, fat heads pushed against your womb, hot cum spilling right inside as he shuddered and pressed your body. It was raw, rough, with a growl that bubbled in his throat and lips kissing your cheeks, trying to distract you from the sheer amount of white ropes he was filling you with, with pulsing cocks and meaty tongue circling your plump clit. "Take it, baby, take it all like my good slutty goddess." He clenched fingers on your jaw, crimson eyes staring right into your. "And now, brat, you'll serve obediently as a queen and will stay the fuck away from the throne."

The room felt messy, filthy, with only your faint cries and a raw hole stretched around his softening cocks. He laid down, pinkish hair on your chest, rutting slowly, just to keep your cunt warm and gluey.

He felt heavy, sweaty, all four arms caging your in a tight embrace, lips twirling around your perked nipples as he mumbled maddly under his nose. He definitely fucked your brains out, but it seemed like the God of War himself was, too, totally and completely down on his knees for this sweet little goddess.

"My God," you mumbled sweetly, fingers going through his pinkish strands. "It seems like you keep forgetting your weight. My breasts–"

Sukuna growled, turning you both swiftly, till your head hit his broad chest, cocks still deep inside your pulsing cunt.

"Better?" he asked, a hint of amusment coilining in his voice, with arms wrapping around your sweaty back.

You only nodded, splaying comfortably on his body.

And how shocked the council was when, on the fourth day, none of the contestants appeared before the Ennead.

All eight gods waited.

Silence stretched long across the marble court, heavy as a coming storm. Incense burned low. The sun climbed higher. Still, no sign of either of you.

Maat, ever watchful, sent a servant to check the chambers, fearing perhaps that a lesser goddess had already fallen prey to a brute’s temper. Whispers coiled between the pillars like snakes. Your mother sat rigid upon her golden throne, fingers crumpling the white silk of her robes, eyes dark with worry she tried, and failed, to conceal.

The servant returned pale, whispering to Maat's ear carefully.

Her face changed – annoyance, curiosity, shock!

"Oh?" Ra chuckled, seeing the deep breath escaping Maat's lips.

She cleared her throat, voice high and steady, as she announced the information.

"Her Goddess Horus and God Set decided to... share the rule over Egypt, by joining in wedlock. Moreover, it seems that Goddess Horus has been..." she stopped, as if gathering thoughts. "Tainted, and thus her status doesn't allow her to become the sole ruler. That's the final decision, and that's what council of Ennead should approve."

And after the small chaos caused by the fainting of Goddess Isis, they approved indeed.

I don't know why, but it was so hard to write! Btw, the thing with semen is real, and in real contendings of Horus and Set, they tried to mark themselves with their semen. At one point, Horus even cummed on a salad and tried to give it to Set.

As you can imagine, being tossed from a mountain definitely didn’t improve upon his looks. 

Not to mention, such disregard led to Jogo’s physical ugliness seeping into his personality. He was a jealous and bitter man, even going as far as to trap his mother to a golden throne for her treatment of him in his childhood. 

That would’ve been amusing to you, if not for the negative impact that the situation had on your life. For in the terms of his mother’s release, Jogo implored the King of the Gods to grant him your hand in marriage, claiming that the only thing that would make amends for his treatment was to have the beautiful goddess of love become his wife. 

Marriage was an easy trade to make for the King, so you were given up easily - all of your sophistication and beauty wasted on this ugly man. It was your idea of hell. 

You loved your freedom, loved flirting with gods, with mortals, warming the beds of men and women alike, experiencing all the pleasures of the flesh that you possibly could. That was the whole point of your life, only for it to be ripped away from you at the hands of your jealous husband, whose one good eye was always watching you, making sure that you’d never be unfaithful to him. 

And it was boring. 

Sex with him was completely uninspiring. He didn’t know the first thing about women, treating you as though you were one of his little machines, taking a logical approach to each action, completing his duty in bed to the letter with the intention of procreation, no pleasure or passion involved in the equation. You hated it. 

You’d close your eyes and pretend that you were fucking someone else, but even that barely worked since your stupid husband couldn’t ever touch you well enough to get you anywhere near getting off. 

It sucked. Of all the gods, why did you have to be married to him? It wasn’t fair.

Lately you’d been wishing that you were married to Sukuna, God of War and Bloodshed. He was everything that your husband wasn’t: exciting and passionate, with a focus on his own pleasure above all else. He was handsome and confident, with sharp features, pink hair, sharp black tattoos curling over his muscular body, and an atmosphere of danger following him wherever he went.

From the way that he so brazenly checked you out at any given opportunity, flicking compliments your way and giving you that cocky smirk, it was clear that the two of you were birds of a feather. Matched in your desires far better than you were aligned with your own husband. 

He was egging you on, waiting to see if you’d make a move, if you were brave enough to ignore the whims of your husband and take the leap. And with his red eyes following you around Olympus the way they did, what were you meant to do? Say no? 

You were only human after all. Well, you technically weren’t but the same sentiment applied. 

So one night when your husband was working late at his forge, you snuck out of your marital bed to seek out the god of war. You’d been so needy since your wedding, unable to be with anyone but your pathetic husband, you had no doubt that Sukuna would help solve that problem - at least, if he fucked with the same passion that he fought with. 

Sukuna had been waiting for you that night, lounging about on his fancy sheets wearing nothing but a short red toga. His grin was all teeth, gaze fixed on you like you were prey that he was about to devour. Little did he know that was exactly what you wanted, coming in here batting your lashes, looking so innocent, as though you hadn’t fucked hundreds of men in your lifetime, wonderfully putting on an act of being a scared little neglected wife giving herself over to the big protective man. 

Because you desperately needed him to think he was in control of this situation, for him to dominate you like he was in charge and you were just a bystander. If he knew that was exactly what you wanted the dynamic would change, you needed it to feel real. 

It's what you’d been yearning for ever since you were thrown into a sham of a marriage.  

“Finally giving in, sweetheart?” He asked, his deep voice rumbling through the room as he rose to his feet, crossing the room to tower over you, gripping your slender chin with his calloused fingers. 

“He’s so fucking boring.” You complained, fluttering your lashes once more as you gazed up at him, pouting your lips softly. “I need someone to show me a good time or I’ll go insane.” 

Sukuna smirked down at you, tapping your chin thoughtfully for a moment. “Well, we can’t have that can we? I suppose I’ve got no choice but to give you what you want…” 

“Mmmm.” You responded, sliding your hands seductively up his chest. Sukuna stared down at you with amusement for a moment before pouncing, lips crashing against yours as he hoisted you up into his arms, wrapping your legs around his big body and letting him manhandle you as he liked. 

It was exactly what you’d been missing from your foolish little marriage. 

And with that, your affair began. That first night had been as filled with passion as you’d expected, Sukuna dominating you completely, fucking you up against the wall, his muscular arms holding you up as he made you come undone with long, deep strokes on his thick cock. 

He spat in your mouth and pulled your hair, called you a dirty slut along with dozens of other filthy names as he forced your head down on his cock, teased your ass with his fingers as he fucked you on all fours, slapping your ass each time you whined and squirmed, shooting several loads of cum over your pretty body and ordering you to lick up any that dripped onto the floor. 

It was passionate, exciting. It stirred your heart like never before. 

And the whole time he was so confident that he was in control, that he was the one inflicting his desire upon you, the object of his affection. Never catching on that you had actively looked to him for this treatment, that you’d been just as desperate for him to touch and degrade you like this as he had been to inflict it upon you. 

You’d left him there in the room when you were done, neither of you were under the illusion you that you were going to cuddle after fucking - no, this was all about raw, unfiltered pleasure, it had nothing to do with safety or comfort. His nature was violence, there was nothing more that you’d get from him. 

Perhaps others would look upon your affair years from now and feel bad for you, assume that you’d yearned for him in a way that he hadn’t yearned for you. But they had the wrong idea. You were the goddess of love, how foolish to think that you’d restrain that love to just one single person - it would be an insult to your very nature. 

You could love Sukuna just like you could love anyone else, the love that you had to give was as infinite as his was nonexistent. An unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. 

What a pair the two of you made. 

Years were spent with the two of you sneaking around. You'd go to him at night, your legs thrown over his shoulders as he fucked you into the silk sheets. You’d visit him on the battlefield, letting him bend you over his war table, scattering the carefully positioned map pieces as he drove into you so hard that the table shook. 

Sometimes, when you were confident that your husband was away, you’d even invite him into your own bed, getting off on the thrill of him taking you in the same place that your husband would usually have you, letting Sukuna’s cum drip out of you and onto the sheets when you were done - enough for your husband to doubt but not enough to prove your infidelity. 

A calculated risk to stimulate your hedonistic brain.

There were a few times throughout the years that you fell pregnant. Your husband always assumed that the children were his, always stupid enough to be blind to what was happening right in front of him. You knew better. The three children that you had in the years since your affair with Sukuna started all clearly bore a resemblance to the god of war. 

But it's not like that was all that scandalous, they’d be far from the first children in olympus born out of wedlock believing that they were the children of another. Once they grew older you supposed it would be harder to deny their heritage, but that would be a bridge to cross when you came to it. 

What was the point in worrying? 

Neither you or Sukuna were particularly convinced that you were being slick or subtle about your affair - the looks that he would shoot you in public made sure of that, but when you were both finally caught you couldn’t help but feel surprised, frustrated by the way that it had all gone down. 

You’d been out on one of your secret meetings with Sukuna, visiting him on the battlefield - you were in Troy this time, a battle that you had been paying close attention to because of your favor for the Trojan prince who had stolen his beloved away from her oaf of a husband. You were a great supporter of true love, always rooting for and aiding mortals who went for what they truly wanted, sneering at the very existence of arranged marriage. 

Love couldn’t simply be arranged. You were sure of that from your own experiences. 

Sukuna had been in a jovial mood when you found him. He too had taken the side of the Trojans, at your behest. He seldom cared whose side he fought on, as long as there was horror and bloodshed he was content, and this ongoing siege was providing plenty of that - dried blood and guts coating his muscular body when you approached him in his war tent. 

He’d smirked at you, requesting your praise for fighting so valiantly on the side you’d ordered him to support. And you’d given him just that, dropping to your knees and worshipping his cock until he was cumming down your throat. It had become routine for you, to give him whatever he wanted like this. It was what you wanted too. 

It had become so routine in fact, that the two of you barely bothered to make sure that you were alone before pouncing upon one another. That would be your mistake in this instance, for you had an observer from just outside your tent: Yorozu, the goddess of chaos, an obsessively jealous woman who had been madly in love with Sukuna for years, ever scorned by the way he would brush her aside. 

Now she understood why, and she knew just who to tell to bring this troublesome little affair to an end. 

So, weeks after your little rendezvous with Sukuna on the Trojan battlefield, the two of you were finally forced to face the music. Jogo had told you that he was going away for a while, and predictably as ever you had invited Sukuna into your bed, letting him climb on top of you and sink his cock into your warm pussy, just as always. 

And in that moment, the trap sprung. 

There was a mechanical whirring and a golden net was thrown over the two of you, forcibly keeping you both in place, tangled up with each other and pinned down uncomfortably against the bed. 

Your husband strolled into your room, snickering at the predicament that you’d found yourself in, cursing you for your infidelity, face growing red with rage as he started to spit vitriol at the both of you. 

But you weren’t really listening, and you imagined that Sukuna wasn’t either. You didn’t feel any remorse for your actions, and it was hard to focus on your surroundings with Sukuna’s cock still twitching inside you. If anything, it was taking all of your willpower not to start laughing.

“Let us go, Jogo.” Sukuna grumbled, pushing against the golden net only to find that it wouldn’t budge even under the weight of all his godly strength. 

“Not even an apology for fucking my wife?” Jogo hissed, and Sukuna shrugged, his body vibrating with chuckles. 

“Not like you were doing a good job.” 

“Whatever.” Jogo responded, and you couldn’t help but laugh, giggling softly into Sukuna’s muscular shoulder despite the uncomfortable situation you were in. 

At least you were in it with Sukuna. 

“Stop laughing, whore.” Jogo spat. “Since you’re so keen to open your legs for other men, how about we let all of Olympus see you like this?” 

Now that was humiliating. The golden net was inescapable, and all you and Sukuna could do as Jogo invited the other gods in to look and laugh was lie still, bodies still thoroughly entwined. You weren’t keen on every god getting to look upon your body, but considering that every statue of you depicted you as nude anyway, you decided that this was something of a lenient punishment. 

So as Jogo asked you if you were truly sorry, and made you promise that you’d never ever stray from him again, that you’d remain faithful for eternity, you nodded along compliantly. Pretending that you’d be his perfect little wife so that he’d release you from these bindings and move on, trying desperately not to whine or squirm at the way Sukuna’s hand was squeezing at your breast needily where your bodies were joined together, right under your husband's nose. 

Jogo seemed satisfied with your agreement, even if Sukuna’s simple ‘whatever’ just served to further temper his rage. In Jogo’s mind this was about you, not Sukuna. He had no jurisdiction over the god of war, but it was his job to control his woman. 

It was just embarrassing if he couldn’t. 

Unfortunately, Jogo was in for a life of embarrassment, because you and Sukuna weren’t so easily separable.

As time passed and your husband’s rage started to fade, you found yourself in Sukuna’s bed once more. Right back where you started, he had you bent over, fucking into you like he blamed you for the embarrassment of the two of you getting caught, his cock slamming into you until you were crying and clawing at the silk sheets, screaming his name loud enough that the whole of Olympus was likely aware of your continuing affair. 

You didn’t care, it wouldn’t be the last time - it never would. Just as easily as before you’d been caught, you fell back into the pattern of seeking him out, coming undone on his cock night after night and regretting absolutely nothing. 

What? Were you really meant to stay loyal to your husband just because of some silly golden net and a little bit of humiliation? What a waste. 

Such incidents were the spice of life, and Sukuna was like a drug that you were addicted to. You wouldn’t give it up so easily, and neither would he. He was yours and you were his. Love and violence had always gone hand in hand, what better pairing was there? 

Birds of a feather flock together.

a/n: thanks for reading! I had so much fun writing this one, absolutely adore writing the reader as completely unapologetic lol

if you like mythology fics, I have another sukuna one here (inspired by apollo and cassandra), and a gojo one here (inspired by paris and helen of troy). I'm planning on bringing out a choso one soon too :)

And it was precisely this question that led you to Nanami's current predicament. He was currently guiding his tip into your cunt, having been roped into such a fruitless exercise of his self-restraint. The blonde gave in quicker than you had anticipated — but then again, Nanami was incredibly easy when it came to you.

"Hurry, Ken," you tittered, spreading your legs wide without an ounce of shame. "I want to feel it get hard inside of me."

Nanami inhaled sharply through his nose, screwing his eyes shut and willing for his cock to stay limp. The sight of you spread out so sinfully before him, pussy glistening, was enough to have his cock jerking in his fist. "A moment, darling."

An impatient noise left you. You had taken it upon yourself to prep without your husband, knowing he'd get hard during the process. All he had to do was put it in, but even that seemed too demanding of a task for poor Nanami.

Propping yourself on your elbow, you nudged at his knee with your foot. "If you get hard, it'll only take longer to do what I want."

He muttered something unintelligible as you lied back down, making quick work of slipping inside of you.

Your lashes fluttered, and the way your pussy quivered at the intrusion was enough to have Nanami's knuckles whitening as he pushed in. The gradual warmth that engulfed his flaccid cock was unbearable, and his ability to hold back was soon dwindling its way into nothing.

"Just let it get h-hard, that's it. You don't need to fuck me yet."

"That's the problem," he rasped, "I want to make love to you."

You shook your head and tried to ignore the way you needed your husband to plough into you and make the bed shake. Your voice was shaky when you replied, pussy squeezing periodically — which certainly made the task that much more difficult for both of you. "Stay still."

Nanami braced his arms on either side of your head, sweat already beading against his hairline. His pulse had quickened considerably, thudding in time with yours as the blood slowly rushed down to his groin. "S-shit—"

"I can feel it, Ken," you laughed breathily, running your fingers up Nanami's forearms, until you were holding onto his tense biceps. "It's getting so big."

Cursed with a filthy wife with an even filthier tongue, it appeared.

Your husband was a gentleman, and he didn't want to do anything that'd compromise your safety. Yet with the sight of you laying under him, hair splayed out and cheeks flushed — all Nanami wanted to do was fold you in half and have his way with you.

Luckily for him, he was fully hard. You felt it all, watching with lidded eyes as the vein on his temple throbbed with each twitch of him inside of you. Then came the precum. a slight ticklish feeling as Nanami began leaking his arousal into you.

"Please tell me I can move now, my love. I-I don't think I can handle—"

"Move, Ken," you murmured coquettishly, palm on your stomach from where Nanami had stuffed you to the brim. Nanami was well-endowed soft, but now that he was hard? You were glad that you had prepared yourself beforehand.

And so Nanami did what you asked, driving his hips forward with a guttural groan in a way that'd had your legs shaky for days to come.

► Gojo Satoru

When Satoru said he wanted a hotdog, you didn't think he meant this — your shorts shucked down to your knees as you laid on your stomach, ass spread by two large hands and a soft cock nestled in between.

"Genuinely, what the fuck are you doing?"

Satoru shrugged, digging his long fingers into your rippling flesh after mounting you. "Said I wanted a hotdog. Now I have a hotdog."

You breathed in. You breathed out. Looking over your shoulder, you glared at your boyfriend — who was currently interrupting your self-care time. A nail file was idle between your fingers as you tried to comprehend where Satoru got the audacity from. "So you're just going to sit on me. Like that. Dick between my ass?"

"Yeah, nice 'n warm between here."

"So is an oven," you muttered dryly, prompting Satoru to slap your ass.

"An oven can't feel me get hard between its cheeks," he retorted playfully, wiggling his eyebrows. So that was what it was all about. He wanted you to feel him get hard against you? Odd but alas, in character. So you went back to filing your nails, seemingly not caring as to what Satoru did next.

He placed two large hands on the side of each rounded asscheek, pressed them inwards until the pressure around his cock intensified. Satoru couldn't hold back the plethora of breathy groans and curses that left him, too busy indulging in the way your ass seemed to mould to the shape of him.

"Really enjoying yourself there, huh?" You mumbled, unable to stop yourself from feeling a spark of arousal at the desperation of your boyfriend. He was pathetic — and a large part of you enjoyed that.

Satoru whimpered, nodding even though you couldn't see. Experimentally, he rolled his hips once, hissed at the dry friction, and felt his cock chub up at the same time.

You felt it too, the way the weight between your ass grew heavier with each frantic thrust. Had Satoru not been preoccupied with fucking the seam of your rear, he would've seen the way your pussy was slick with a steady gathering of your wetness.

But alas, Satoru was an ass man — and nothing was going to stop him from dry humping your butt and glazing them with a thick sheen of his cum.

"G-gosh, you're disgusting," you stammered out, almost panting in time with Satoru as he spat down to make the glide more wet. He ignored the way you jolted at the warm feeling, too busy lost in the wet plaps of his balls against the curve of your ass. "Like a rabid mutt."

"Y-yeaah, this mutt's gonna blow a load over your ass any second," Satoru chuckled, half crazed. You cursed, gripping onto the sheets and body rocking in time with his. It was obvious his orgasm was coming any second, and you had no time to warn him not to cum on you but—

SPURT

Satoru came — thick, messy ropes that shot out from between your ass, all over the small of your back and halfway up your silk camisole.

…

"Oops."

"You're licking that up, by the way. Asshole."

► Ryomen Sukuna

"Ryo. Ryomen. Sukun—ah!"

"Out with it, brat," he snarled, swatting you on the rear and planting you onto his lap. The King of Curses was sprawled out on his throne, his beloved bride making it her mission to make his life hell yet again. You grinned at him, giving his stomach mouth an affectionate nudge with your fingers.

"Was just wondering…"

"Nothing good ever comes out of that."

You slapped at one of his meaty biceps, tutting at his words. "Shut up. I was just wondering which one of your cocks get hard first."

…

"I do not know," Sukuna muttered, his brows furrowed in thought. Usually, he did not care about such trivial matters. At the end of the day, both would end up inside of you eventually, and noting which one stood at attention first was nothing short of necessary. Yet he found himself wondering…

"Are you suggesting we find out?

You nodded. "I'll hold them both and we can see."

Sukuna tutted at that, his two lower hands coming down to squeeze at your waist. "Do you really think that would be enough to turn me on?"

"Of course!" you cooed, poking your brute of a husband's nose. "Was it not only yesterday you grew hard at the sight of me in your robes?"

There was no arguing with that — your words were true, and as much as Sukuna liked to play the role of an aloof husband, there was a certain allure that you had that brought you two together in the first place, eventually leading to your marriage.

"Fine. You may try."

With a celebratory cheer, you reached down and parted Sukuna's robes. He didn't bother with undergarments, seeing as though it was appropriate to assert his dominance whenever he could (even if it meant scaring his servants with the two weighty cocks that swung between his legs like a pendulum).

Immediately, your left hand found his lower cock, and the right found the upper one. Even when he was soft, Sukuna was inhumanly large. It was the reason why prep with you could last hours. Seeing you writhe from consecutive orgasms was pleasing to the curse, but had he not been thorough with you — you would certainly not be able to take him.

Your fingers barely met as you held his flaccid cocks, marvelling at how daunting they were outside of you. Sukuna watched with his four lazy eyes, ignoring the way the tips of his ears burned at the feeling of his wife holding him like it was nothing. Then, the lower cock twitched first. Once, twice, three times.

"Oh, my," you whispered, watching as the upper cock began quivering too. Sukuna was quickly becoming aroused, eyes averted as he rested his chin on a fist. The scowl on his face was weak as you maintained your grip on him, so carefully attentive. You didn't want to miss it — which cock was able to stand at attention first at the simple feeling of your palm cradling his cocks.

"Not a word," he grunted. But his thighs situated themselves further apart, a lazy manspread that gave you more room to admire him. The plump veins snaking down his cocks were deepening in hue, much like his twin tips that were oozing out translucent precum.

Until the lower cock stood stiff first, the one above following not long after — true to biology. Sukuna snarled when you let out an astounded noise. "I suppose that makes sense. After all, the bottom cock is the easiest to get to… maybe…"

"Stop your rambling and fix this, woman. You started it, so you must deal with the aftermath."

"Gladly."

► Toji Fushiguro

Having an oral fixation was a bummer when there was no one around to satiate it. Fortunately for you, Toji had picked up on your little quirk as he liked to call it. The two of you quickly came to a little arrangement, where he was willing to let you use him whenever you saw fit in exchange for a pair of your underwear every week. You didn't even need to ask.

An expensive arrangement, but it was worth it.

Toji had a drawer full of frilly panties ready to be ruined, and you had a way to keep your mouth occupied.

Like right now.

Your head was on your housemates lap, his lazy attention to the shitty movie playing out before you. The realisation was slow at first, but you could feel the emptiness in your mouth becoming more prominent as the minutes went by. It was all so overwhelming, causing you to fidget and swallow around nothing and stirring Toji in the process.

"You good down there?" He grunted, passing a large hand over your head to ruffle your hair somewhat affectionately.

You nodded — but your answer couldn't be further from the truth. Then, you sat up, eyeing Toji's crotch. Even while he was soft, there was a prominent curve of where his dick sat. It made your mouth water, and his previous words came back to you.

Whenever you deemed fit, use him.

Usually, you'd ask before helping yourself to what you needed. But right now? Words were failing you and Toji wasn't offering. So you gently tugged out his limp cock after lifting the elastic waistband of his shorts and laid closer to the man.

The word 'pretty' wasn't often used when it came to Toji. But there was something about Toji's cock that made you fawn ever so slightly. It was slightly tan, deepening in colour as you came closer to his plump tip. The girth was obscene, decorated in fat veins that you loved to prod at with your tongue whenever you had the chance to.

You pressed forward, giving it a small yet audible smooch before opening your mouth. The man grunted above you, still not getting hard as you slowly enveloped more of him into your throat. He wasn't small, coaxing you into relaxing as much as you could before you inevitably let out a gag.

The gentle sounds of sucking filled the room, your lips pursed and tongue lolled out, flat against the underside of Toji's weighty cock.

All you could think about was Toji, Toji, Toji — his scent musky and clouding your brain with the beginnings of arousal. Saliva built up steadily in the heat of your mouth, coating the length in a thin sheen.

Until your sucking grew frantic. Your thighs pressed together in a poor attempt to alleviate your need to get absolutely railed by the older man.

A harsh jerk of Toji's cock in your mouth caught your attention, and the salty taste of precum bloomed over your taste buds. Only then did your spit begin to bubble out from the corner of your lips, your suckling having grown far too sloppy to not elicit a boner.

"Shit— easy now."

You shook your head, throat gurgling wetly as you swallowed around him — around the cock that bulged your throat and kissed against the back of it. With each descent of your head, seeing as though you had started giving Toji a blowjob, he grew more erect.

Not only that, he was bigger too, until your hollow cheeks lost their shape and rounded the more he filled the empty space inside you.

Toji listened in as you breathed heavily out of your nose, balls tense with the urge to cum at the forefront of his mind. You were a mess when he looked down, seeing your eyes watery and webbed strings of spit and cum gluing your chin to his crotch.

"Nasty girl, bet you're wet down there. Aren't you?"

Toji knew you couldn't answer — after all, it was bad manners to talk when your mouth was full. He opted to lean over on his side, sliding a large hand under the waistband of your shorts and copping a feel instead.

Lo and behold, your wetness met his fingers, and the grin that lifted the scarred corner of Toji's lips was nothing short of hungry.

Things always played out the same way, with his crimson soaked hands wrapped firmly around your slender neck, sharp fingernails drawing blood while his fingers left pretty little bruises against your skin. He’d grunt as he bent you over his altar, guttural sounds of pleasure leaving his lips as he pressed his mouth against your ear. 

You’d sob and shake beneath him, hands raking desperately against the marble beneath you, tears dripping down your cheeks as you let him sink deeper into you than you’d ever allowed any man to go. 

He’d give you a taste of divinity, of real purpose. He was your god and you served him well, offering yourself fully for his own pleasure and entertainment, and he ate it up every time, filling you up with his seed and leaving you there once he was satisfied, with no regard for your own gratification. 

And there you’d remain in the oppressive silence, shivering at the foot of your shrine to him, awaiting his next visit with rapt enthusiasm. That was your role in this world, your only genuine purpose - you were to give yourself to him and in the times between you were to yearn for his return. 

You were to tend to his temple, greet his worshippers, and provide him with offerings. You were to sleep on the cold marble every night just in case he required your services, you were to have no family, lay with no man, for you were his in every sense of the word. 

Even if he would never be yours. 

Maintaining your oath had never caused you much trouble, for it was the only life you’d grown to know. You had been raised to be a priestess, had tended to the temple since you were eighteen - Sukuna, and your devotion to him, was the only thing that existed in your narrow worldview. 

That was how it was supposed to always be. 

Until one morning a different deity appeared at your door. 

It was a pleasant spring day, and the forest beyond the temple’s walls was brushed with rays of gold, so filled with life in stark contrast to the confines of your shrine. It was always cold in there, tainted with the vague scent of blood and death that followed Sukuna wherever he went. 

Even though you had never seen another of his temples, nor met another of his priestesses, you were certain that the uneasy darkness lingered in any place where he was worshipped. 

And yet, that darkness, which usually extended to your patch of woodland, seemed woefully absent on that temperate morning. On the contrary, the forest seemed more alive than you’d ever seen it, teeming with colour and life - a beauty that felt utterly foreign to your eyes. 

The cause of the change appeared without warning, manifesting between the trees, blue eyes alight with mischief as he strolled towards your humble temple. He had an otherworldly glow about him, a power akin to that of your own god, but rather different in nature. The air around him felt light and airy, like his mere presence could strip away any sense of despair. 

You didn’t know him. You didn’t know any god but your own. You weren’t supposed to. 

Nervously, you’d flinched back, stepping over the threshold back into your temple, peering past the open doors at the figure who came to a halt on your doorstep, a pleasant smile lighting up his handsome face. 

“Good morning,” he hummed, his tone chipper. “I hadn’t expected to find any humans out here - especially not a beautiful woman.” 

“Are- are you here to make an offering?” You asked, struggling to find your voice. You’d found yourself captivated by his ethereal beauty, your eyes skimming over his toned body and the beautiful white toga that adorned it. There was nothing monstrous about him like your own master, he was gorgeous in the most conventional of ways. 

“An offering? To him?” The god snorted as he gestured to the carvings littering the outer walls of the temple. “Absoultely not.” 

Fear fluttered in your heart as you took yet another step back into the comfortable darkness of your home. It felt like Sukuna was draping himself over you, keeping you safe from the stranger before you. For him to so casually put down your god was the gravest insult in this setting, and you wondered if Sukuna might strike him down where he stood. 

Perhaps he’d strike you down too, for even allowing yourself to bear witness to such heresy. 

“I don’t think you should be here.” You tried to sound as confident as you could, to turn this god away before he could cause any issue. You didn’t want any trouble, didn’t want to find yourself breaking any of Sukuna’s rules. 

“You don’t need to sound so afraid, I mean you no harm.” He took another step forward, his toes brushing against the threshold, peering into the darkness at you. “Come and step into the light, so that we can talk properly.” 

Even though you knew it was wrong, you found your legs obeying his command. There was something about the way that he spoke which commanded the same authority that Sukuna did, filling you with a terrifying desire to do as you were told no matter what your brain truly wanted. This god didn’t wield his authority with the darkness that your own master did, but the underlying implication was still there. 

He would have what he wished, and would employ any method to get it. 

Your legs carried you back outside, eyes wide as you observed the man before you. His blue eyes dragged over your form and you caught the way that they seemed to light up with glee. “You’re a gorgeous creature, aren’t you? Typical of Sukuna to keep such secrets to himself. What do you call yourself?” 

You told him meekly, averting your gaze down to the floor. Now that you were standing before him you found your heart racing unfathomably quick, oddly taken by his immense beauty. You’d allowed your mind to wander, to wonder what it would be like to have his delicate hands hold you. 

It was a thought that you were quick to chase away, for fear that Sukuna could hear every one of your deepest desires and punish you for the slightest deviation away from him. 

“How lovely. You can call me Satoru.” The name meant nothing to you. You’d been raised largely in isolation, taught by your parents your role at the temple and abandoned to silence at eighteen. If Satoru was some well-known god, it meant nothing to you. 

He didn’t seem offended by your lack of knowledge. Perhaps he’d expected it. 

“Are you out here all alone?” 

You were, the people in the closest town would bring supplies to you once a fortnight, and beyond that you were left purely to your own devices. It probably wasn’t wise to tell a strange man such a thing, but you got the sense that he’d know if you were lying. 

“I am.” 

“Oh, how I abhor the cruelty of your master, always keeping his poor worshippers in the worst of conditions. If you were my priestess you’d get to live in the most lavish quarters in some lovely city, surrounded by like-minded folk. No woman should have to linger alone in some dark forest.” 

“It suits me here,” you whispered. “I’ve always been here.” 

Satoru scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Then you simply don’t know any better than what your master has taught you.” 

You were certain that you didn’t need to know. With Sukuna the rules for your life were clear, what more could there be? It was an honor to serve him in the way that you did, it was what you were made for. You didn't need pity from some stranger. 

“Look at you, all confused by my words.” A hand reached out for you, your body shaking as a finger tapped the centre of your furrowed brow before withdrawing. “You can’t even begin to comprehend the unfairness of your life.” 

“It's not unfair,” you bit back, quietly. You mostly believed your words, but you’d be lying if you were wholly satisfied. You had no qualms about living in this place, or about serving your lord, but in the times between Sukuna’s visits you were hollow, desperate for him, caught up in wondering what he was doing, wondering how many other priestesses he treated just like you. 

You wanted him to be yours just as you were his, wanted his devotion to you. 

An impossible ask. 

“It is, but you can’t allow yourself to see it,” he said with a sigh, fingers dragging through his soft white hair. “You’re a great prize of his, you know. One of his favourites. He always likes to brag about your beauty but never wishes to share - he isn’t a man who likes others playing with what belongs to him, even when he has so much.”

“Oh,” you mumbled, not sure what to make of that. You wanted to be flattered but your joy was unraveled by the use of the phrase ‘one of his favourites’. For now he treasured you, saw you as something valuable amongst all he had. One day you’d slide down that list, once your looks started to fail you. 

“I’m here because I had to gaze upon the one that even a monster would desire so deeply.” Your eyes widened in surprise, studying the look on his face. You could sense no trace of dishonesty, his expression open and welcoming, his thoughts written across his face. 

The complete opposite to Sukuna’s perpetually guarded frown. 

“You were certainly worth the journey,” he continued, when you offered him nothing but silence. You should’ve told him to stop when he reached for you once more, but you remained frozen, completely dumbfounded as his hand traced along your soft cheek. It was a caress gentler than any that Sukuna had given you. 

“You shouldn’t be doing this,” you murmured, terrified of what the consequences for his actions would be. You were surprised to find that you didn’t want him to stop, your heart battering against your ribcage at being shown such careful attention for once in your lonely life. 

It was a dangerous feeling.

“I would provide you so much more than he ever could,” he whispered, leaning forward. “I’d give you a place in the light, a place at my side. Beauty like yours doesn’t deserve to be hidden away, it should be celebrated.” 

Your breath hitched as he closed the gap between you. His nose brushed against yours, lips inching closer, and for a second you almost gave in, almost allowed temptation to win out over the oath that you’d bound yourself to. But you had lived a life of discipline, and when you pushed him back with all of your strength, it was your body acting on instinct. 

Kissing him wasn’t right. It would be a betrayal of everything that you lived for. Besides, your parents had warned you about schemes of other gods, warning that if you were to ever encounter one, you would find that they took great enjoyment in playing with humans. 

That was what this was. This man didn’t know you, didn’t care for you. You could feel the dislike for your master rolling off him in waves. He was here to humiliate his opponent, to claim something of his. 

You would be no pawn in his game. 

“I wish for you to leave,” you said as firmly as you could, your heart still fluttering in your chest. “My master would not want you here." 

There was a flicker of hurt in Satoru’s eyes, but he dropped his hands to his sides all the same, stepping back with a somber nod. “He wouldn’t, you’re right. But you should not wish to be here either, for you deserve more than the darkness he shrouds you in.” 

“It- it is what I have chosen.” 

“It is what has been forced upon you,” he countered, offering you a sad smile. “But when you one day choose to free yourself of it, I will be waiting.” 

And just like that, Satoru disappeared, taking the brilliant light of the morning away with him. For some reason you felt cold, an empty emotion not unlike that which would plague you whenever Sukuna would leave you broken and naked on the temple floor. It had been nice to talk to someone, nice to feel the sun on your skin. 

Even if it was all just trickery from some malicious man hellbent on separating you from your duty. 

It was a week after that encounter that Sukuna darkened your door again, in the manner he always would.

Your encounter went much as usual, speaking no words of greeting as he approached, his hands tearing at your clothes, fingers holding you with a bruising grip as he took you beneath him. He was as rough as ever and you enjoyed it all the same, soft whimpers echoing around the temple as you chanted his name like a prayer. 

But when he was done, he didn’t leave in silence as he usually would. Instead, he drew himself up to his full height, towering over your frail body which he’d discarded so carelessly on the cold floor. His red eyes were fixed on you with an unusual intensity, two of his hands resting on his hips while the other two crossed firmly over his chest. 

“You had a visitor this week. Didn’t you?” The question came out as a deep rumble, sending fear coursing through your vulnerable form. 

“Yes.” You kept your eyes down. You weren’t supposed to look up at him without his permission, he was too divine for your eyes to gaze upon openly. 

“And what did you think of him, this visitor?” 

You weren’t quite sure what to say. If you were to tell him the truth, to suggest that you found Satoru captivating in any way, you feared the punishment that may follow. On the other hand, if you tried lying only for him to realise that you were attempting to deceive him, that could land you in even deeper trouble. 

The last thing you wanted was to disappoint him. 

“He was…strange. He was like you but not.” You chose your words carefully, omitting your feelings on the matter. 

Sukuna let out an amused huff. “There is no one like me, little priestess. But to your untrained eye I can understand what you’re trying to say - he held a power beyond your comprehension, and by extension you find us to be similar.” 

Disagreeing with him would be foolish so you simply nodded in agreement, your gaze still trained upon the ground, even as you heard him shifting before you. He crouched, one of his lower hands pressing against your chin and raising your face to look at him.

“What of your opinion on him? Did you enjoy his visit? Do you yearn for him to return with all his foolish light and greenery?”

“No.” The lie slipped out before you could stop it, before you had the chance to truly consider your answer. 

He blinked, a slow grin spreading across his tanned face, his canines pointed and sharp, still dripping with blood he’d withdrawn from your neck minutes prior. “No? Such a well trained little thing,” he hummed, a hand coming down to your hair and stroking it with something akin to affection, like an owner praising their pet. “Though, I thought you’d know better than to lie to me.” 

The grip in your hair tightened, strands pulling at your scalp. A soft yelp left your lips, eyes welling with tears, your gaze still fixed on him as he’d commanded.

“I can hear your heart fluttering, your blood rushing through those delicate veins of yours. I think you wish to see him again, perhaps you yearn for him to visit you in the way I do.” 

You shook your head as best as you could while still confined within his firm grip. Even if you were curious about your visitor, infatuated by the light which he seemed to bathe himself in, you had no desire for his visits to be even remotely similar to Sukuna’s. The humiliation of being taken and abandoned by one god was enough, your heart would not cope with a second. 

“I’m loyal to you, master. Only to you.” 

There was a soft tremble to your voice, your skin prickling with fear. The look on Sukuna’s face was manic, like it always was when he’d fuck you, or when he’d dump a corpse on the temple’s doorstep. There was an electricity to him that told you he had little tolerance where Satoru was concerned, and as his hand twisted in your hair, you felt certain he’d tear your head from your shoulders. 

“Is that so?” He asked, his booming voice echoing around the temple. For a moment, a look which seemed almost conflicted flickered in his red eyes, but it was gone before you could truly verify its existence, replaced by his usual hardened gaze. 

“Yes. I take joy in nothing but serving you.” 

You were starting to grow cold, the chill of the temple’s marble seeping into your exposed skin. He’d seen you in this state time and time again, but to kneel naked before him and talk was different to being fucked by him, it felt too vulnerable, building an urge within you to cover yourself from his gaze. 

Fortunately, your mind stopped you from attempting to draw your arms across your breasts. You were his property and he could gaze upon you as he pleased, you had no right to obscure what had always been his. 

Releasing his grip on your hair, he let you crumple down before him. He then brushed the strands tenderly over your bare shoulders, gentle enough for you to mistake it for the touch of a lover. The coolness of his tone dispelled any such illusion as he whispered in your ear. 

“Make sure to remember it. Lie to me again or find comfort in that fool, and I’ll make sure you regret it for the rest of your pathetic little life.”  

And just like that, he was gone, the warmth of his breath still hot against your ear, your stomach churning with guilt beneath the weight of his bitter disappointment.

Satoru visited again the following day.

He was already waiting for you outside as you threw open the doors to the temple at dawn, leaning against a tree, skin glistening beneath the sun’s gorgeous rays. Doves were flittering around him, whistling away with some merry tune that seemed so out of place within the shadow of your temple. 

Once more, you found yourself faltering, glancing back towards the safety of your temple and wondering if you should barricade yourself inside, your master’s threat hanging heavy in your mind. 

But the warmth and comfort that the god before you exuded was attractive, pulling your feet towards him just like the first time, a moth to his brightly burning flame. He seemed overjoyed at the sight of your nervous figure before him, shuffling about and avoiding his gaze, jumping at every shadow in the forest behind him, as if Sukuna would emerge from the trees. 

“So nervous.” Satoru commented, blue eyes skimming over your form. “You have nothing to fear from me, lovely priestess.” 

“It is not you who I fear.” 

“Ah, of course not.” Pushing the subject no further, the god offered you a soft smile before lowering himself down onto the grass before you, sitting cross-legged on the ground. A flicker of confusion registered within you, for service to Sukuna had taught you that he was never to be beneath you, it would always be him towering over you. 

Satoru seemed to hold no such views, looking up at you easily. 

“Sit with me.” 

Glancing around once more, you shook your head. “I cannot. I told you before, you should not be here.” 

Satoru scoffed, a playful glint in his cerulean eyes. “He doesn’t know I’m here. We’re not all-knowing, and he’s off dealing with some war right about now, his attention couldn’t be further from you.” 

“He knew you were here before.” You pointed out, shuffling your bare feet awkwardly in the grass, pretending to find interest in the way your toes wrapped around the blades to avoid meeting the gaze of the being before you. 

“That was my error. I had been callous in my approach here the first time, unbothered by the idea of him knowing that I’d gone to look at what was his. For that I apologise. I had not realised the way in which it would impact you.” Satoru seemed genuinely sorry for his actions, worry creasing on his otherwise perfect face. 

Part of you wondered if it was an act, but you didn’t linger on the thought for too long. You hadn’t experienced kindness in a very long time, and that alone had your resolve wavering. 

“Please sit. I brought you an offering.” He patted the grass beside him, and you hesitated for just a moment before doing as he asked, intrigued at the thought of a god bringing you an offering. Sukuna had never given you anything, why should he? And yet, Satoru snapped his fingers and a whole spread of food appeared on the ground before you. 

It was a feast for Kings, an exorbitant amount, the likes of which you’d never witnessed in your lifetime. 

Stale bread and the odd bit of cheese had become the staple of your diet over the years, that was all the people from the nearby village were willing to spare for a priestess of a war god, especially when your region had been experiencing peaceful times for as long as you’d lived. 

“This is too much for you to offer me,” you said politely, trying to decline. You were concerned that indulging in wines and meats would be apparent to Sukuna on your breath, perhaps even on your body, for it might stop your skin from stretching uncomfortably over your bones like it did currently. 

Satoru shook his head, beaming at you. “This is nothing. Eat. You’re such a frail little thing, he clearly doesn't feed you enough, so let me help you.” 

You knew it was wrong, knew that you should turn down his offering just like Sukuna would want you to. After all, if your master believed your diet should be so limited, you were in no position to question his judgement. But your piety did little to override the desires of your body, and humiliatingly you could feel yourself starting to salivate. 

He didn’t have to know. You’d eat just enough to sate your hunger and that would be that. You didn’t need to overindulge. 

Hastily stuffing some grapes into your mouth, the pleased look on Satoru’s face emboldened you to continue. Even if he wasn’t the god you were supposed to serve, there was something about him that led you to desire his approval in the same way you desired Sukuna’s. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he could kill you just as easily as your own master could, if he so wished. 

“That’s it,” he chirped. “Enjoy it.” You grew so preoccupied with your feast, luxuriating in a range of flavours that you’d never known, that it came as a surprise to you when a warm hand brushed your neck, long fingers trailing delicately down your nape. 

You withdrew quickly, jumping like some frightened stray cat, eyes wide and worried, unsure of the god’s intentions. He remained unfettered, dropping his hand and studying you like you were a matter of greater interest than some common priestess. 

“Are you sure you’re no nymph? Perhaps some forgotten daughter of another god, cast out into the fringes of our minds?” The honeyed words had your pulse racing, unsure what to make of the compliment. It felt pleasant to be praised, but he was not the man you should be seeking praise from. “You’re so fair, it makes me want to hide you away from Sukuna.” 

He spat out your master’s name like a curse, something dark and unbefitting of his light and lovely voice. You said nothing, peering back at him as you remained crouched in silence. There wasn’t a chance that you’d even acknowledge such a statement, for you knew acknowledgement tended to count as consent amongst gods. 

Satoru shuffled closer once more, “this mark on the back of your neck, he left it on you?” His fingers were back on your skin now, pressing down on what you assumed must be a bruise. You hadn’t kept track of the marks on your body in a long time, aware that Sukuna would often leave them in his wake. They had never really bothered you. 

And yet, Satoru looked concerned.

“I suppose so,” you mumbled. 

Scoffing, he shook his head. “What a barbarian.” 

Again, you found yourself glancing into the darkness of the trees, despising the idea that Sukuna might potentially be listening in on the exchange, waiting for you to slip up. If he was, you wanted him to be certain that you weren’t going along with Satoru’s complaints towards him. 

“He’s not…a barbarian,” you whispered. Despite Sukuna’s treatment of you, it wasn’t so easy for you to cast aside your master. You loved him, you’d always loved him, it was practically built into your body. If he wanted to use you, he was free to do so, if he wanted to kill you, that was up to him. 

Satoru looked sad, carefully withdrawing his hand and dropping it into his lap. It was evident that he’d thought this conversation would go a different way. “Do you enjoy my company?” He asked. 

“I do.” There was no point in being dishonest. The green, airy atmosphere that he brought along with his presence was pleasant, and the opportunity to speak aloud to someone for once in your lonely life felt freeing, even if you knew it to be wrong. But that was where your rule-breaking would stop. You could dip your toes in the pools of possibility, but there were lines you would never cross. 

“I was here last night, you know.” He spoke. 

A chill ran through you at his words. 

“Is that how your visits from him always play out? Letting him have his way with you without so much as a hello? Receiving everything he could possibly want and then leaving you cold and shivering on the floor, praying for a sliver of his affection?” 

You wondered if Sukuna had known that Satoru was watching, if he’d revelled in the idea of an audience. Perhaps he simply didn’t care at all, why should it bother him if there was someone watching him lay claim to what was his? 

“That’s my role,” you said mechanically, upon the realisation that Satoru was waiting for an answer. 

“And again I must ask, you’re happy with that role?” 

“Yes.” 

“Happy for him to leave you in solitude? To take you with such violence and then berate you for talking to another, all while he’s free to do as he pleases?” 

“Yes.” You lied, more than happy to pretend that you didn’t spend your nights dreaming of more, fantasising about a life in which you could stay in Sukuna’s embrace, rather than wrapped in the cool emptiness of his temple. 

“And when you grow older? When your looks start to fail you and he ceases his visits, how do you think you'll feel about your role then?” 

The anxiety gripped your heart like a vice. The thought of Sukuna discarding you entirely was something you’d often considered, seeping into the cracks of your mind on your loneliest nights. There was nothing you could do to stop it, for time would march on and you would age, and he would find some new beautiful priestess to have as his favourite. 

“You’ll miss him.” Satoru said, answering the question for you. “You’ll lament and suffer and wish that he’d given you something to keep. You’ll realise that all your faith and devotion meant nothing to him, while he meant everything to you.” 

Tears began to stream down your cheeks before you could stop them, and you found yourself recoiling away from Satoru, feeling suddenly cold. 

“There will be no worth to your life, no honor given to you for your devotion and service. He’ll discard you, just as he discards everything that no longer qualifies as interesting to him. If your loneliness is strong now, it is nothing to what it will be when he’s gone for good, fascinated wholly with another while you wither into obscurity.”

A whimper escaped you, tears dripping onto the grass below as the god before you laid out the future that you’d never wished to consider. Perhaps he was the god of prophecy, witnessing your fate even before it could play out, but he didn’t need to be for your path to stand clear - it had always been obvious to you that things could only end one way. 

Sukuna would cast you out, and that would be that. 

“I don’t- I can’t-” 

“Shhh.” Satoru moved closer, curling around you in a gentle embrace. “Not all is lost.”

Shoulders shaking, you let him hold you, overwhelmed by such a lovely show of warmth and affection that you’d lacked your whole life. He was cooing quietly, stroking your hair with one hand and wiping your tears with the other. It was like he’d ripped your broken heart from your chest just so he could prove to you that it was in pieces, and you weren’t quite sure what to do with that. 

You shouldn’t have huddled up against him, shouldn’t have allowed his comfort, but what was a mere human supposed to do? Whether you obeyed Sukuna or not, the outcome of him casting you aside one day wouldn’t change. 

At least for now, if you disobeyed him, you could experience comfort for once. 

The two of you stayed there for a long time, long enough that by the time Satoru was pulling away, you felt like you’d almost melded into his slender form. “I can make you my priestess, I can make you my world. Beauty like yours is rare, and would never cast it aside like he does, not in old age. I would leave you not in solitude, but keep you in the warmth of my arms for eternity if you’d allow me.” 

“I can’t, I’m his, I want to be his, I-” 

“He’ll never be yours.” His blue eyes were sparkling as he regarded you with a serious look, one filled with desire. “But I can be. I have gazed upon you for longer than I should admit, have stalked about in these woods and watched Sukuna mishandle beauty that deserves more. Let me give you more.” 

Your stomach was churning with anxiety, not sure what to do. Your mind and heart were screaming away about your loyalty to the only master you’d ever known, to the god that you loved, reminding you of the consequences for even hearing Satoru’s offer to completion. 

But there was no denying the desire in your body. 

You felt warm for the first time in eternity, and you didn’t want the softness of Satoru’s touch to leave you. If you couldn’t be held by the one you loved, then it was better to be held by another than abandoned to loneliness when Sukuna grew tired of you.

Satoru’s fingers were grazing your cheeks with the utmost care, so gentle compared to your master’s rough hands. You mewled softly under his touch, pathetic in the way you leaned up against him, letting him pet you affectionately like you were some treasured cat. 

You’d never had much of your own autonomy, always reliant on gods to tell you what you needed to be. You supposed whether that god was Sukuna or Satoru made no real difference. But if one’s light would stay, allowing you to bask in its warmth for a time, that was preferable to one who would leave you to starve in the dark. 

As Satoru pulled you up from the floor, you allowed yourself to be cradled within his strong arms, too distraught over the matter of your master to register the peril involved as the god crossed the threshold into the temple, a domain where he was surely not welcome. 

Seemingly unphased, he took a seat on one of the marble benches just before the altar, holding you carefully in his lap and drying away the last of your tears. “There, there,” he soothed. “Let me look after you.” 

Allowing yourself to melt into his arms, you did nothing to prevent the slow brush of his pink lips against yours, mouth parting for his tongue as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You supposed that in a way, it was, Sukuna had taught you nothing but obedience, so with Satoru’s grip so firm and welcoming, what were you supposed to do if not obey? 

Satoru’s lips tasted surprisingly sweet, the faintest taste of cherry lingering upon them. One of hands moved to the back of your neck, pulling you in closer, allowing his tongue to explore your mouth in a manner that was more curious than domineering. Your fingers gripped at the fabric of his clothes, anchoring yourself to him, like you might lose yourself in his kiss. 

There was no attempt made to prevent his other hand from wandering to the shoulders of your dress, slipping the loose fabric down your arms and allowing it to pool at your waist. Your nipples were perked, whether from arousal or the cool air of the temple, you weren’t quite sure; any thoughts on the matter fled your mind as Satoru broke the kiss and hoisted you up a little, letting his lips find one of your nipples, his tongue flicking against it before taking that sensitive bud into his mouth. 

It pulled a pathetic little whine from you as you clung desperately to his shoulders. This wasn’t something that Sukuna had ever done. His focus had never been on your pleasure, but on meeting his own needs - to experience such devoted touch felt strange, but not unpleasant by any means. 

One of Satoru’s hands moved up your leg, pushing beneath the remaining fabric of your dress and finding itself in the space between your thighs. His long fingers navigated carefully over your pussy, with a gentleness that your master had never possessed, moving slick through your folds and circling a spot which had you whimpering. 

For a few minutes, you were lost in it all. You were off somewhere else in your mind, in some lovely field that befitted Satoru’s pleasant atmosphere, where the two of you could lay beneath the sun and make love amongst the flowers for all eternity. 

It was an illusion that shattered quickly. 

Satoru was just in the process of repositioning you. He’d discarded your white dress entirely, carrying you over to the altar and lifting you to sit atop something that you’d previously only ever been bent over. He’d spread your legs and knelt down before you, peering up from his place beneath you with an expression laden with desire. 

His breath had fanned over your exposed core, your body trembling at his proximity, in desperate anticipation of what it might feel like to have his tongue pressed up against you. 

But the moment he leaned in to give you what you’d been awaiting with bated breath, a large hand found its way into your hair and dragged you violently to the ground. You yelped desperately, struggling beneath an unwavering grip, your shoulder aching where it had bashed against the marble. 

“Stay still.” The voice was cold and bone-chillingly familiar. 

Sukuna wasn’t looking at you, his eyes were fixed evenly on Satoru, who was carefully picking himself up off the floor. His neck and chest was stained with a gold liquid, flowing from a cut which was swiftly closing itself up on his pale neck. 

Blinking, panic began to rise up in your chest. You wanted to fidget, to beg Sukuna for mercy and forgiveness, but such an action would be foolish, so you stayed deathly still in his grip, a rabbit accepting its fate within the jaws of a wolf. 

“I suppose you find this amusing, an attempt to defile what’s mine within my own temple. Did you think I wouldn’t know?” Sukuna’s voice was calm, with a dangerous edge to it. He was addressing Satoru alone, still not bothering to spare a glance at you. 

Satoru shrugged, an impish grin spreading across his face. “I thought you were busy.” 

Sukuna scoffed. “If I broke into one of your frivolous brothels that you refer to as temples, you’d know the second I took a step over the threshold. So what was this? An attempt to upset me?” 

“Why would you be upset?” Satoru asked, pleasantly. 

“You know I don’t like to share,” he said, his grip on you tightening. 

“You have any number of lovely priestesses, where’s the harm in letting me have one?” Sukuna’s red eyes flickered with annoyance, and for the first time he looked at you, a mix of fury and disappointment present on his terrifyingly beautiful face. 

“And you. How dare you?” He asked, dismissing Satoru’s question entirely, his full attention fixed on your quivering form. “Speak.” He barked when you failed to answer swiftly. 

“He- I- I’m sorry-” 

There was no explanation for your lack of loyalty, nothing beyond admitting that you were afraid to be alone, that you loved Sukuna so deeply that you could no longer bear the nature of your relationship. But telling him that would make him just as angry as telling him nothing. 

You weren’t supposed to want anything. You were nothing more than a servant to him with no will of her own. 

You yelped as he slapped you hard across the face, ears ringing at the force of the blow. “I should kill you for this, rip you apart for offering yourself to another. To receive what I give you is an honour, and you’re too much of a whore to be thankful.” He spat.

“I am, I am thankful.” You were mumbling as you tried to sit up, stumbling over your words as one of Sukuna’s hands came to press down on your delicate neck. “I’m sorry, it was a mistake, I didn’t mean to- I was scared-” 

“Scared?” Sukuna’s tone was mocking, his eyes alight with fury. “Scared of him?” He asked, jerking his thumb in the direction of Satoru, who was watching on with detached curiosity. The sight made your stomach churn, because that man’s honeyed words had moved and confused you and now he seemed unbothered by the whole matter. 

Such was the way of gods, as your parents used to say. Mortals were little more than ants to them. 

“Not scared of h-him.” Your answer was honest, because you didn’t truly believe Satoru to be a threat to you. Had you turned him down outside you were certain that he would’ve left you be, the issue was that he’d understood exactly what to say to get you to give in.

You were a fool, falling for nothing more than a silver tongue.

“Then what? Because there is nothing you should fear more than my wrath, little priestess, I thought you were smart enough to understand at least that.” 

His grip was tightening as he leant more of his weight atop you, keeping you helplessly still. Your lungs started to burn, fingers reaching up to grapple at his wrist to no avail.

You could hardly fend off a human man, let alone the god of war himself. 

“I fear- I fear your absence.” You confessed honestly, humiliation filling you at the sheer patheticness of your words. It was an insult to voice such things, to expect that you’d be worthy of his time or attention in any capacity. 

Sukuna’s red eyes flew wide at your words and his grip faltered ever so slightly. “My…absence?” 

“Yes,” you whispered. “One day you’ll leave me alone in the dark for good and I’ll h-have nothing.” 

For a moment he was silent, brow furrowed as if in thought, before seemingly regaining his composure, his expression hardening.

“So you thought to whore yourself out to this fool instead?” He spat. “Forsake everything I’ve taught you, the very vow that you should live by, because you’re afraid of being lonely?”

You nodded as best as you could beneath his grip. “I’m sorry-“

“Pathetic. I’d thought of you as one of my best. I suppose I misjudged you.”

The disappointment in his tone had tears prickling at your eyes, filled to the brim with guilt. In the heat of the moment, Satoru’s points had made sense, had tugged at all your deepest fears. But now, with Sukuna’s weight pressing down upon you, all you could think about was how much of a fraud you were.

How spectacularly you’d failed at the one thing that gave your life meaning. 

“Are- are you going to kill me?” Your voice was tiny, for beneath the judgement of your cherished master you were nothing more than a scared girl who understood little of gods and their whims. 

Again, there was a flicker of something uncertain on Sukuna’s face, like he hadn’t anticipated those words to fall from your lips. You barely tensed as his fingers tightened around your throat once more, leaving you certain that he was moments from squeezing the life from your fragile body.

Part of you hoped Satoru would step in, but it was clear that he wouldn’t, simply lounging on one of the marble benches, watching the exchange with rapt attention. It was becoming apparent that he hadn’t had your best intentions in mind, no more of a friend to you than Sukuna was.

Perhaps all he’d wanted was to have some fun with some poor, hapless mortal.

Letting your eyes flutter closed, you sank back against the marble, accepting the fate Sukuna had deemed befitting of your crime. But before the sweet release of death could find you, the grip on your neck disappeared along with the weight of his body above you.

“You’re not even worth that,” Sukuna hissed, leaving you crumpled and gasping for breath, utterly confused and broken by his decision. “Drown in your sorrow, for I’ll give you nothing.” 

It was the perfect humiliation, a suggestion that you weren’t even worth attention in the form of death, and before you could stop yourself you were sobbing openly, your cries bouncing around the marble walls.

Sukuna paid you no mind, heavy feet slamming across the floor in the direction of the doorway, only to freeze at the sound of Satoru’s calm voice from behind him. 

“Like you’ve ever given her anything.”

“What?” Sukuna hissed, peering over his shoulder. 

“You heard me. She told you what she feared, why she did this, and you still don’t understand. You’ve always been a fool,” Satoru chirped. 

Sukuna remained frozen to the spot as the white-haired god approached you, crouching down behind you and pulling you carefully into his grip. 

“How many times have you visited this temple, Sukuna?” Satoru’s fingers were toying with your body, running across your soft skin. His fingers brushed over your nipples and you flinched ever so slightly, your breathing picking up as his hand moved between your legs. Despite the situation you could feel your arousal growing, the sensation only heightened by the crimson eyes fixed fiercely onto your figure. 

“What does it matter?” 

“Do you remember?” Satoru purred against your ears. 

You nodded, struggling to find your voice. “Eighty-three times.” You whispered, meekly. You could remember each visit with staggering clarity, no matter how similar each one may have been. 

Satoru whistled. “That’s a lot. How often do you visit your other temples, Sukuna? Once? Twice? Never?” 

The fingers dancing over your skin didn’t stop, and you felt that familiar pleasure building beneath Satoru’s touch, a pleasant comfort buzzing through your veins and chasing away the desperate fear which had plagued you moments ago. You saw Sukuna’s throat bob, a flicker of something deeply unhappy in his eyes as Satoru slipped a finger into you once more, all for him to see. 

“I don’t see why it's any of your concern,” he said, finally.

“No? I suppose you don’t mind then, that I’m doing this to your favourite priestess. I suppose you wouldn’t mind if I made her one of mine, fucked her over my altar just like you used to.” 

“I suppose not. She’s nothing. Just some pretty mortal who can’t even follow rules.” Sukuna’s tone was even, but still he didn’t move. His eyes were watching Satoru carefully, as if assessing his next steps. 

“Great.” Satoru picked you up, and sat you down on the altar once more, back in the position that he’d put you in so carefully before Sukuna’s arrival. “I won’t waste any time then.” Discarding his own clothes, he dropped them down onto the marble. Your eyes scanned his form nervously - you were accustomed to being with Sukuna, familiar with his size, and found yourself glad to see that Satoru was smaller. 

Not that you meant that in any sort of disparaging way. 

He had a pretty cock, still thick and girthy, but the type that would bring you pleasure rather than stretch you out to the point of pain. Satoru smiled as he gazed down at you, a reassuring look that had your heart fluttering. Carefully he cupped your face, running his thumb over the purple bruise blossoming over your cheek. 

Fingers clinging to his shoulders, you sucked in a breath as he ran the tip of his cock through your folds. And yet, you couldn’t keep your attention fixed on the man before you, your gaze instinctively drifting to the hulking god standing in the doorway. His red gaze met yours, and there was a moment of terror in which you wondered if he’d kill you for looking at him without permission. 

Instead, he held your stare, your heart beating harder as Satoru started to push into you, imagining that it was Sukuna holding you so tenderly, pushing into you with care and desire beyond animalistic need. 

“Stop.” Sukuna uttered the word in such a low tone that you weren’t quite sure you’d caught it, figuring it was a hallucination born from your own need for the god. When he repeated it a second time, there was no mistaking its reality, for it came out as a bellow, a new deep cut appearing across Satoru’s back. 

And then another.

And another. 

Until the white-haired god was covered in a litany of slashes, pulling back from you swiftly, leaving you cold in your propped up position upon the altar. Your body began to tremble, hardly noticing the way Satoru was cursing off to the side of you, desperately trying to heal the damage Sukuna had caused to him. 

You were too transfixed by your master storming towards you, wondering if Satoru’s slight had led Sukuna to change his mind about killing you. 

With your breath picking up desperately, you were sure that you looked utterly terrified as he came to a stop before you, towering over you just as he always did. His shadow completely eclipsed you, and the hairs on your arm were standing on end, the desire to run overcoming you. But you’d seen what had happened to Satoru, a being who couldn’t be killed - one singular slash would spell your end. 

“Tell me,” Sukuna said calmly. “What is it that you want? Do you despise me? Do you long for him and his temples of light?” 

“No.” 

“No?” 

You shook your head again. 

“Then what?” 

“I told you already.” Your voice was soft and small. “I love you, and I want- I want you to love me.” It felt pathetic to say out loud, to give voice to a request so selfish and impossible. What were you to your master? 

Nothing more than a mortal priestess. 

And yet, after a moment of thought, he answered your question seriously. “I am no god of love. It is not something I could give to you even if I wanted to.” 

Before he could say anything further, he was interrupted by the sound of Satoru’s laughter. The sound came out a little odd, making a gargling noise like he was choking on his own blood as he desperately tried to heal his wounds. “You’re such a fool, Sukuna.” 

Glaring at him, Sukuna’s brows furrowed and another slash appeared across Satoru’s chest. It didn’t seem to phase him - in the time that you’d spent with him, you’d come to realise that few things did. 

“Why do you visit her so frequently? Why indulge in her flesh when you have countless others? What reason can you give?” Satoru pushed. “I have seen you murder for matters most frivolous, but when you find her, your most devoted little thing, in the arms of another you let her go free? Cause her no more injury than a mere strike?”

“I do as I please, I need to offer you no explanation for my actions.” Sukuna hissed, still pinning you beneath his gaze as he dismissed his peer. 

“No, but maybe you should try offering yourself one.” 

Sukuna was frozen, his expression unchanging as he stared down at you. You weren’t sure what to make of the glimmer in your eye, feeling completely exposed beneath his gaze. You wanted to sink into the floor, didn’t want to endure any further humiliation or dismissal. You understood your place with great clarity, you needed no further confirmation. 

“I’m sorry, please, there’s nothing wrong with our arrangement. I’m wrong to be upset. It's my role to serve whatever you desire. I’m sorry.” You chanted out apologies like a prayer, unsure as to what was going through Sukuna’s mind. You were shifting about awkwardly on the altar, feeling too vulnerable beneath his gaze. 

“Oh stop, you. That’s not what you really think.” Satoru cut in. “I’ve been watching you long enough to know your mind, and I’ve always known his. I’d appreciate it if you both stop wasting my time.” 

“Stop wasting…?” You faltered, falling silent, struggling to understand Satoru’s words. He ran a hand carefully through his hair, gaze flickering between you and Sukuna. 

Sukuna's brow furrowed further, finally pulling his gaze from you to look at his fellow god. “I knew you were playing some kind of game.” 

“Oh please, you constantly go off to some poxy little temple on an island forgotten by all of us and expect me not to notice something odd? I had to take a look at what had captured your attention, and to see how you were handling it made me feel embarrassed. I figured I’d give you a push in the right direction. Now go on. Stop lying to yourself.” 

For a moment, it seemed like Sukuna might make a move to attack Satoru, clear rage smouldering in the crimson of his eyes. But by some miracle, his attention turned back to you, and that anger dissipated, giving way to an expression which you were unfamiliar with. 

Shaking, your breath hitched as his fingers trailed beneath your chin. You couldn’t follow what was happening, struggling to piece together the role that Satoru had played here, unclear on whether Sukuna had forgiven you, half convinced that he’d behead you for the annoyance that Satoru had caused him. 

Instead, he leant forward, breath fanning against your face. 

“Do you even know how to kiss?” Satoru interrupted. “She likes that, you know, seemed desperate for it when I-”

“Silence.” 

Sukuna’s thumb stroked along your jaw, and you blinked nervously, eyes darting anywhere but his face. This was uncharted territory, unaccustomed to facing him like this at all, let alone being treated with such tenderness. Anxiety swirled in your stomach, conscious that this act of warmth might be something final.

“Look at me,” he commanded, and you did, staring directly into the deep crimson of his eyes. 

The kiss that followed was slow, stealing the breath from your lungs as his lips pressed against yours, almost tentatively. It was in stark contrast to his usual vigor and aggression, the contact careful in nature.

His tongue pressed into your mouth, dominating you as was always his way, but not devouring you completely as he usually would. The exploration was more like a dance, his tongue flicking curiously against yours as one of his hands found your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

The warmth of his body was new to you, accustomed solely to the weight of him taking you from behind, completely detached from heat and affection. To feel his chest against yours, radiating heat against your smaller form, had your heart racing. 

“Not so hard, is it?” Satoru quipped, only for Sukuna to pull away for a moment and fix him with a glare.

“I will chop you into pieces.” 

“Pretend I’m not here.” Satoru raised his hands defensively, and that seemed to be good enough for Sukuna, his attention turned back to you. Your lashes were fluttering, legs pressing against his waist, the sweat forcing your skin to stick against his. 

“What-”

“You should stay quiet too.” He spoke, albeit more softly than the sharp tone directed to Satoru. “Lest I change my mind.” 

You took his order as gospel, clamping your mouth shut and deciding that you didn’t need an explanation at that moment, despite your confusion. If he was going to treat you with reverence, you’d rather experience such a thing firsthand than force an explanation out of him.

There was no way you’d take the risk of disrupting whatever was currently taking place. 

Leaning in once more, you instinctively closed your eyes at his approach, a little surprised as he stalled just before contact, the skin of his lips ghosting against yours. A hand went to your cheek, brushing over the flowering purple bruise. Wincing, you found yourself watching him carefully, like a deer assessing a new being in the forest, one whose level of threat remained unclear. 

Caressing the bruise, he let out a heavy sigh before a lovely sense of warmth spread through your face, emitting from his hand. Moments later it was gone, along with the throbbing pain in your cheek, like he’d undone the damage he’d caused.

Before you could question it or thank him, his lips were on yours once again, soft and enticing, pulling you against him in an embrace that felt reserved for lovers, rather than one of a god getting his fill of a servant. 

His four hands started to roam over your body, brushing your breasts, squeezing your thighs, feeling you as if it were the first time his hands had touched your flesh. One of his hands moved between your legs, experimentally moving the slick through your folds, a thick finger dipping into you. 

Such attention had you whining against him, a sound that was swiftly swallowed by his lips. His finger was thicker than Satoru’s had been, working you open carefully, an action he had never thought to take in the past. You couldn’t understand the effect that Satoru had created within him, unsure as to how he’d gone from hitting and rejecting you, to offering you affection he’d never allowed before. 

He slid another finger into you, stretching you out until he was satisfied, his lips locked against yours until he was pulling his fingers back. “Suck.” He ordered gruffly, a trace of his old self present in the way his fingers pressed against your lips, forcing their way into your mouth. 

Satoru made a sound of disapproval in the background, reminding you of his presence, but if Sukuna heard, he paid the man no mind. He seemed too focused on your body spread out before him, your wide eyes looking up at him nervously. 

He shed his clothes in a single action, letting the fabric pool on the floor beside yours. Your eyes instinctively moved down to where his cock hung heavy between his legs, the monstrous size never failing to steal your breath away. You could hardly believe the number of times he’d sheathed the thing within you without any effort of preparation, your body adapting because it was what he required. 

This time was different. 

Mirroring the treatment that Satoru had given you earlier, Sukuna carefully ran the tip of his cock through your folds, red eyes fixed on your face. You felt shy, eager to turn your face away. It was easier to do this in the manner he usually would, with you bent over while he took you from behind. Gazing upon him so openly felt too vulnerable for your liking, even if the lust in his eyes had your heart racing. 

“You are my favoured one.” Sukuna’s voice was deep, “understand that, because I do not wish to speak more on the matter.” 

Lips parting, the question of what that meant dangled on your tongue. To you it suggested the situation was the same as before - for now he favoured you, in a few years time the matter would be different. 

He seemed to understand your concern before you could voice it. 

“I will not toss you aside for something as trivial as old age. To attract my attention is something significant, not a matter of simple youthful looks.” A yelp fell from your throat as he pushed himself into you, easily filling you to the brim, just like he always would. 

You had a million questions running through your mind, wondering where his true feelings towards you lay. It was clear that Satoru understood him better than you did, pushing him to some sort of conclusion that he wouldn’t have stumbled upon on his own. 

“Do not betray me again.” He huffed in your ear, breath warm against your skin. “Do so and I will not forgive you, you’ll receive no more mercy than my enemies would. But cling to your loyalty and I will give you what you seek. You’ll have my attention, my affection, for as long as you deserve it.” 

“I’ll offer you everything.” The words came out breathy, your body twitching as he withdrew himself from you only to fill you up once more, rewarding you with long deep strokes that held far more affection than the frenzied fucking that you’d usually receive from him. 

You found your nails digging into the skin of his shoulders, drawing blood and marring his perfect form with each brutal thrust, simply trying to cling onto him. Your cries were loud, echoing within the marble just as they always had, but the nature this time was different, for your cries were ones of pleasure rather than desire for more. 

Sukuna’s breaths were heavy, rasping hard against your ear with each smooth movement of his hips. The passion had your eyes rolling back in your skull, babbling out his name pathetically, demonstrating your loyalty to him in your ecstatic reaction to his actions. 

This was all you’d ever wanted. 

An opportunity that had once seemed impossible. 

His fingers were bruising your thighs, pulling you closer with each stroke, and as your thighs tightened around his hips, one of his hands slipped down between the two of you, rubbing that sensitive nub that he’d never deigned to touch before, always too focussed on chasing his own gratification. 

Lights danced in your eyes at the contact, a desperate cry of his name ripping from your throat as you squeezed around him, cumming on his cock. It felt almost humiliating to find pleasure before him like that, something that he’d never been interested in witnessing in past visits. 

If you ever came with him inside of you before, it was an accident rather than intention. 

This time, he seemed to have driven you to it, nipping at your neck and circling your clit carefully, even after you’d gushed all over him. 

Of course, his hips still didn’t let up, fucking you fast and deep until he reached his own release, his arms wrapped tight around your smaller form, pulling you as close as humanely possible as he poured his own seed into you, finding satisfaction in the way that it dripped down your sweaty thighs and onto the altar below. 

Past experience led you to believe that he’d pull away immediately, dropping you down unceremoniously onto the ground, with little regard to the damage it might cause your fragile body. 

But this time he did no such thing. 

He lifted you carefully, cradling you within his muscular arms and sitting down upon the cool floor, keeping you warm within the confines of his lap. Your heart was speeding at one hundred miles a minute, your fingers pressing against his chest, clinging to him as if he’d disappear if you let go for even a moment. 

A hand was brushing your hair, another stroking your thigh, while two were wrapped firmly around your midsection. All four of his eyes were fixed on you too, no distractions in the manner you’d come to expect from him, his focus was on you alone. 

You were his, and at least to some extent, he was yours. 

“How sweet.” Satoru’s saccharine voice sounded from across the room. The god was leaning his face on his hand, blue eyes sparkling as he watched the exchange. Sukuna straightened up ever so slightly, fixing him with a glare. 

“Leave,” he commanded. 

“Aw, not even a thank you? You’re so ungrateful.” The white-haired god stood up, a pout fixed on his pink lips. 

“A thank you for doing your job? No one thanks me for starting wars, so why would I thank you for orchestrating a union? Love is nothing special.” 

“I could’ve sabotaged your love. Kept that pretty little thing all to myself.” He pointed in your direction, offering Sukuna a toothy grin. “In fact, if you cross me I still might. I can make people fall out of love too if I so wish, irritate me and I’ll put a curse on your favoured mortal.” 

Sukuna’s face was stormy, his grip tightening on you in a manner that felt almost protective. “Meddle in matters of my heart ever again and I’ll cut you to pieces and spread them across the corners of the globe. I’m sure no one would miss a few centuries without you.” 

“So prickly.” Satoru rolled his eyes. “I hope you’re kinder to her. How she could ever fall for you is beyond my reckoning.” 

Sukuna peered down at you, and through the centuries of malice lining his ancient, war-scarred face, you could see it - the soft twinkle in his eyes as he met your gaze. The sharp edges of a god of massacre, tempered only for you. 

He would keep his promise. 

His affection would not be altered by lines of age on your face. Despite all his shortcomings, he was loyal to his word, and he had offered you a piece of his heart no matter how shrivelled and blackened it may be. 

And you would cherish that gift for as long as you drew breath. 

a/n: NEED HIM BAD <3

anyway to any crazy in love readers I'm currently working on the next chapter and am planning to have it up in the next week or so

thanks for reading! reblogs and comments are appreciated as always <3

permatags (send me an ask to be added): @calicatzz @suzunu @winkii @sukubusss @bobis-notmylover @tetsuski @torupilled @brattyxackerman @r0vena @chaos-4baby @moonlitreveri3 @feyrinnn @strawberryrosey @creamofsneky-blog @zeeseekay @p1nkfl0wers @apricityn @keiiiluv @dogggggggblog-kaye @duckie3801 @lav4mpira @seellove @cutesytwt @gojodickbig @yuujispinkhair @somos-things @yeagersss @paradisestarfishh @jennilynn63 @tthhaattgguuyy27 @bexxli @being-blue-is-better @tisuruxx @juliarchiv3s @dishs0pe @plutoxxxworld @5kkalara @serenadesvt @00frenchfries00 @warriorofenlightenment @scarlet-issilly @himbosexual @pousivuitton @ksjtozaki @certainfanpoetry @gojoscumslut @ynishalee @nakiich

“I’ve already had her four times,” Sukuna grunted, “the brats insatiable.”

Toji snorted mid sip of water, eyes leaving the couch to instead peer through the half opened doorway to the bedroom, where he managed to catch only a glimpse of your bare leg through the crack. From the looks of it you were naked - splayed over the sheets, hair probably still a little damp from the shower, skin lacquered with lotion, half washed away with sweat by now.

“What, she ovulating or something?” Toji wondered aloud, lowering the bottle to once again catch Sukuna’s gaze over the metal rim.

The other man crossed his arms unceremoniously across his chest, and Toji watched the tendons jump in the winding muscle of his forearms as he shrugged.

“That or she’s in heat, damn near milked me dry.” He grumbled, brows knitted, working a mean line between them. If you were here you’d reprimand him for such an expression, crawl over the couch and run your thumb between his salmon brows until the lines wore smooth, or until Sukuna grew bored and wrapped a hand around your wrist to flip you onto the cushions instead.

Toji laughed then, the sound rough and graveled like tattered velvet.

“Seriously?” He scoffed, lips spread into a sly grin as he licked stray droplets from them, “had to tap out did ya’ Ryomen?”

Sukuna’s scowl only deepened, soured now with genuine irritation.

“Just be grateful I wore her out for you,” he spat, “and watch your tone, or it’ll be you spread eagle and whining for more cock next, Fushiguro.”

Toji chuckled again as he screwed the lid of his bottle on tight, the motion accented with a metallic ‘squeak!’ before he tossed it toward Sukuna, hard enough that he heard the fleshy impact when the other man’s hand shot out to catch it.

“Yeah yeah,” he mused, moving past the couch to instead push through the bedroom door, which creaked beneath the effort, “drink some fuckin’ water and get outta my way.”

If he were being honest, when he’d left for the gym that morning he’d been hoping for this exact scenario. Toji knew you - or at least your cycle - well enough to know that you’d wake up needy and leaking, and he knew Sukuna well enough to know he wouldn’t be able to resist the sight of you humping his thigh like a dog in heat for very long. So he’d left without a word just as the sun kissed the horizon, and he’d been half hard in his sweats since his second rep just thinking about it.

If the living room was warm, the air within the bedroom was stifling. But it wasn’t the heat or the sticky sweet scent that knocked the air from Toji’s lungs on entry, no. It was the sight of you - limbs splayed over the mattress, hair messed and wild where your head was tucked between the pillows. Your jaw lifted back far enough to expose the long column of your throat, giving Toji a stellar view of the dark sucking marks peppered there, indents of teeth that he was sure would melt into bruises by the evening.

Toji took in the sight indulgently - paused in the doorway, a lone hand already trailing its way down the curve of his stomach, teasing until his fingers curled over the bulge forming there. He squeezed once and shivered, reveling in the immediate relief that sizzled over his body like a splash of ice water.

He could feel the weight of Sukuna’s gaze piercing into the back of his skull like the promise of a snipers sight. He didn’t indulge the urge to peer over his shoulder and meet that heated gaze, instead he let his hand drop to his side and pressed a knee into the mattress.

You didn’t move, didn’t speak or even open your eyes when he crawled over the sheets, crowding your space like a panther sliding atop its snagged prey.

His hand met the curve of your waist, skin soft and warm beneath his palm, layer of sweat sticking you lightly to him. He trailed one hand downward over the curve of your belly, the other grazed feather-soft over the slopes of your breasts, pausing to pinch gently at either nipple, perked and willing in his hands.

“You’re soaked sweetheart,” he mused when his fingers finally dipped between your thighs, which gave way to him easily, spreading to make room for his forearm to slot between. He moved slowly, palming soft and teasing over your mound and listening to you mumble mindlessly below him.

You whined something unintelligible in reply, voice nothing but a high pitched whimper, crackled like shattered glass.

With a chuckle, he leaned down and craned his head until his ear rested level with your mouth.

“What’s that sweetheart?” He questioned, head tilted to listen.

You swallowed, hard and dry, and licked your lips before you spoke again. Another croaked string of words hit his ear, a touch clearer this time. He realized then that you weren’t mumbling gibberish at all, you were begging.

“More, more, need more, please ‘kuna, please jus’ one more…”

Toji chuckled and lifted his head back to study you again - he found your eyes still closed, brows now knitted into an expression that was decidedly desperate.

“Old Ryo’ couldn’t keep up, huh?” He mused, hands lifted from your body to instead press into the mattress either side of your head, leveraging the weight of him as he slotted himself properly between your thighs.

You offered a gentle huff in reply, eyelids feeling much too heavy to bother opening. Your limbs felt numb, tingling with residual little sizzles of pleasure.

“Don’t worry doll, ‘m here now.”

Toji didn’t waste time working you open or teasing you with the brush of his lips or gentle caresses, no. He simply slipped his shirt over his head and tossed it sideways. His thumb hooked over his waistband, tugged down to let his length spring free and slap hard and raw against you.

The sensation was enough to have his lips parting around a shuddered breath. You felt like heaven - like slick molten silk kissing each bumped ridge as he rutted through your swollen folds. You jolted when he shifted, hard inches rubbing over your clit, still singing with over stimulation.

He grinned and lowered a thumb to pet at your entrance, leaking slick and dribbles of what he was sure was Sukuna’s spend. He traced your rim beneath the head of his cock slowly, smearing the milky little pearls gathered there and wondering just how many loads Sukuna had managed to stuff inside you before he’d finally tapped out. The thought made his breath catch, and sent another sizzle of heat straight to his throbbing cock.

“C’mon, look at me now,” Toji cooed, watching the way any semblance of coherency on your face melted away when he finally pressed down, sinking inside with a single dizzying press of his hips - testament to just how soaked and used you really were.

It was enough to make your eyes roll behind your lids, fluttering with the delicious sting of being stretched open again. Toji treated you with shallow little thrusts. The hair at his base tickling your clit, thick veins pulsing against your rubbed raw walls where Sukuna had pounded you until you cried, until you bruised. And yet despite the pain, the ache - that needling little bud of desire still burned just as hotly as when you’d first awoken that day, stoking the fire in your belly and dribbling lava hot between your aching thighs.

“Oh, oh…” you moaned dumbly, lashes twitching as you finally lifted them and tried to blink away the layer of hazy film that had settled there. Your mind felt fuzzy, vacant. Drunk on the sensation of being stuffed utterly full once again.

“There she is,” Toji soothed.

“‘Ji, it’s you…” came your delayed greeting, nothing more than a breathy whine, “need’t cum, need to cum again, please…”

“Again?” Toji echoed in faux surprise, hips lowing to a torturous roll, “that’s a little greedy of you, don’t you think?”

“Incredibly greedy,” a distant voice interrupted, flat and deep and utterly serious.

Toji tilted his head back just enough to catch sight of Sukuna’s broad form filling the doorway, looking more like the hired security than someone who actually lived there. Toji peered through strands of ink black hair at the big hand that was beginning to dip beneath the waistband of Sukuna’s sweats, palming lazily at the considerable bulge there. Sukuna’s gaze was equally heavy and heated, lowered past the curve of Toji’s spine to track the way your hole was stretching around his thickness.

Toji swallowed, took a final glance at the sight of Sukuna beginning to work his length free from his boxers. His eyes stuck on the exposed slip of tan skin where Sukuna had tugged his shirt upward, the spatter of hair dusted there, before he turned his attention back to you.

“Haven’t even asked how my day was yet, and here you are begging me to make this needy pussy cum,” Toji teased, “and after Ryo’ took such good care of you too.”

“Please,” you cried, shaking your head furiously against the damp pillows crumpled either side of you, “please don’t tease me.”

“Aw I’m sorry sweetheart,” Toji cooed, voice dripping thick with mock concern, “you just need it real bad, huh?”

The delicate shallow thrusts he had been nursing you with suddenly shifted, turned to long pulls smacked back inside hard enough that you felt the tip of him kiss somewhere deep and delicate. Each buck had your legs quivering, and a sharp little shock of pain and pleasure in equal measure sizzling over your skin.

You were lucid enough only to know that he was moving, slow methodical thrusts that felt achingly tender. Each twitch of his worked muscle was purposeful, each motion entirely controlled and aimed to break you apart.

“Shh, just feel it. You feel me, right baby? Nice ‘n deep.” The words were sin incarnate, purred right into your ear.

You were nodding before you could think, slurring a string of unintelligible words alongside breathy cries of his name, strung together like a prayer.

“Deep… deeper…”

The scent of him was intoxicating, dizzying. The sharp sting of fresh sweat and his own familiar woody musk was enough to have you lifting your trembling legs just to hook a heel over his hip and tug him closer.

“Finally knocked all the brains outta you, huh?” Toji teased, “That’s alright, don’t need to think. Just keep squeezin’ this pretty little pussy around me, yeah?”

One of your hands fled the sheets to instead grasp at one of Toji’s bare shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle there.

“Kiss me,” you panted, blinking up at him with wide wet eyes, blown black and glossy with need, “oh, hng-… please Toji…”

Toji didn’t bother with a reply, instead he simply dipped his head and captured your lips in a kiss so sudden you barely had the wherewithal to suck in a lungful of air before he was swiping any lingering thoughts away with the hot slide of his tongue.

You melted into the touch, letting the roll of his jaw guide your movements - moaning in surprise when his teeth nipped at your cracked lower lip, your grip on his shoulder tightening when his tongue met yours.

When you finally split apart you were sufficiently softened by the blend of his sweet kisses and the steady rock of his hips, brain humming quietly like the static of a tv set to a dead channel.

“Good?” Toji questioned, head tilting.

You just nodded, struggling to keep you gaze affixed on the inky strands of hair slipping over Toji’s forehead, that was until a sudden blur of colour crept into the edge of your vision.

“Oi, what are you?-…”

You watched, motion a little delayed, as Sukuna’s hand slid across the back of Toji’s neck. Toji’s eyes widened an inch, looking genuinely shocked for just a moment before Sukuna’s grip tightened, firm hand forcing his head upward until they finally met in a rough crashing of lips.

Peering up you simply watched, entranced, at the slide of pink tongue between sticky sweet flutters of your lashes. Eyes caught on the way Toji’s brows lifted and his hips stuttered just a little when Sukuna’s hand tightened into a fist at his nape, strands of silky black hair sticking wayward through his thick fingers.

Toji grunted into the kiss, rougher now - a tumble of teeth and tongue in stark contrast to the slow rhythm of the embrace you had shared. One of Toji’s hands curled over your hip, thumb mindlessly tracing the bone there. The other found Sukuna’s chest, grasping a handful of fabric before he was shoving the other man backwards.

You watched a glittering thread of spit link them for a moment before it split, and you must have clenched at the obscene sight because Toji made a choked sound above you, falling into the sensation a little like he were suddenly made of jelly.

“Fuck sweetheart,” he panted, lips glossed as he dug a fist into the mattress beside your head, “that’s it, just like that.”

His thrusts didn’t slow or soften, but they felt sloppier somehow, and when you blinked upward you realized why. Sukuna had stepped in behind Toji, plump chest pressed to his back, massive hand still curled around his nape, thumb rubbing soothing little shapes there. His head turned inward, lips pressed to the delicate little strip behind Toji’s ear, breathing so close you could see the speckle of goosebumps begin to prickle over Toji’s skin.

“C’mon Fushiguro,” Sukuna purred, quiet enough that you could barely hear the sweet syrupy words, “don’t get soft on me now.”

Dazed, you watched Sukuna raise a spare hand to his lips, thumb pressed against tongue beneath the glint of pearly canines before he reached past Toji’s hips and tucked it between your thighs. You jerked at the sudden contact, the searing heat of his slick thumb, calloused and rough and perfect against your abused clit.

“Bastard…” Toji gritted, breaths coming ragged now, panting between barely masked grunts of pleasure as his head dipped beneath the weight of the palm at his nape. His gaze was glassy, glued to where you were clamping around him, where your slick was painting the dark curls at his belly white.

Sukuna only grinned in reply, and you could hear the lazy glee lacing his tone with his next words, thumb still rolling over your twitching nub as you writhed beneath his touch.

“Go on now,” he rumbled, low and filthy over the shell of Toji’s ear, and you swore you felt Toji twitch in response. “make the pretty girl cum.”

You could feel it, the looming buzz of your orgasm, curling like the crest of a wave, hot and tight in your belly like the slow cinching of a knot.

“Close ‘ji…’m close,” you slurred, “gonna… hn!- ‘m gonna…”

“I’m right here sweetheart,” Toji was groaning now, shivering a little as the hand at his nape tightened once more. His thrusts were wild - wide sloppy pumps driven haphazardly into the slick mess between your thighs. Sukuna’s thumb continued its assault, drawing steady heart shapes over your clit, right above where Toji was busy splitting you open.

“C’mon princess,” Toji pleaded, words accented with a kicking throb that you felt all the way in your gut, “give it to me.”

You let your eyelids fall shut, squeezed tightly against the way your vision was beginning to blur at the edges. Senses dulled, sounds and scents becoming more and more distant with each second of rising pleasure until suddenly the knot snapped, and you were unraveling along with it.

Toji cursed somewhere beyond the numbed blackness of your senses, and alongside it you felt a flood of heat and the familiar twitching pulse of him as he filled you. Firm hands gripped your waist like an anchor, holding you in place as you squirmed against his final stuttered humps, wracked with unending wave after wave of white hot pleasure.

“Shh, that’s it, that’s a good girl…” Toji was cooing into your ear, forehead pressed to the pillow, only hair tickling your cheek.

The words were a salve, a balm smoothed over your mind until all that was left was the honeyed buzz of pleasure.

You sucked in a shaky breath and realized along with it that you were crying, cheeks soaked and salted with fresh tears. You let your limbs fall, limp and exhausted against the sheets. A subtle ache was beginning to settle in your muscles, in your bones, and yet beneath it all you still felt it - that itch deep inside, like an unending, desirous pit.

“More…” you croaked, voice utterly broken despite your pleading.

Toji scoffed somewhere above you - sounding equal parts shocked and proud at your incessant appetite. You heard the distant thump of approaching footfalls, followed by the telltale creak of a knee digging into the mattress before the bed was dipping beneath a considerable weight, and you felt Toji slip out with a slick sucking sound.

“Move Fushiguro, think I just got my second wind.”

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