choo:)

Could it be a present? 

While you’re busy putting on another dress to show him, Gojo sneakily makes his way over to the pile and opens up that pretty little bag. What he finds inside delights him. 

Underneath the layers of tissue paper lay a lacy, pink set of lingerie, woven with the most dainty little flowers. He laughs out loud when he sees it, imagining you wearing it for him later that night. 

When he hears your footsteps he quietly tucks the lingerie back into the bag, but he can barely contain himself and has to cover his mouth to hide his smile. 

So later that night, he waits as you finish up in the bathroom, lying all suggestively on the bed with a hand tucked behind his head and a grin on his face.

The door opens up, and at first his view of you is hidden by clouds of steam from the shower. Then, you emerge from the fog like an angel, dressed in–

An oversized T-shirt and a pair of his sweats? 

You’re brushing your teeth and staring confusedly at your husband, wondering why he’s lying in this candle lit room in nothing but his boxers. 

“Toru…what’s all this?” you ask through a mouthful of toothpaste. 

Gojo quickly recovers from his confusion. “What? Can’t a man romance his wife?” 

After a minute of debating whether he’s really serious or not, you shrug, spit out your toothpaste, then join him on the bed for a good dick down. 

Step 2- Discover Her Secret Lingerie Collection In The Back Of Her Drawer

That lingerie set’s been in the back of Gojo’s mind ever since he first spotted it, but you haven’t brought it up so neither has he.

It could’ve been an impulse buy, something that initially caught your eye but you later regretted. Maybe it didn’t fit. Maybe you returned it. 

Gojo’s in the bedroom folding up clothes while he thinks this over, and then, like the universe can hear his thoughts, he spots something in the back of your underwear drawer.

Among the monochrome assortment of panties and bras, a flicker of color.

He just has to see what could be hiding back there...

A red, chiffon slip dress, trimmed with little lace hearts. 

But that’s not all. The deeper back Gojo looks into the drawer, the more he finds. 

Sets with thin camisole tops and flowy little shorts that’d perfectly hug the swell of your ass. 

Sheer, soft colored bodysuits. 

He’s not even sure how half of them are worn, but his favorite is a crotchless, light blue babydoll set the same color as his eyes. 

And everything is decorated in lace, lace, lace.

Lace bows, lace straps, lace flowers, lace trim–lace everything. In every shape and form, and in every color of the rainbow. 

How has he never seen any of these before…and how does he get you to start wearing them?

Step 3- Start Hinting Towards It In Conversations 

Gojo’s been wondering how to bring up the topic of the lingerie without admitting that he’s been snooping through your stuff. Sure, it was an accident, but any hint that he knows your secret might embarrass you and make you even more reluctant to wear them for him. 

But the perfect opportunity arises when he sees you in a pink sweater that’s the same shade as that first set of lingerie he saw. 

It’s something you rarely wear, a scratchy turtleneck that’s been sitting in the back of your closet for months. You've been debating whether or not to throw it out for a while now. 

When Gojo spots you in it his eyes light up and he wraps your waist in a hug from behind. 

“I like that sweater,” he says grinning against your ear. 

“Really?” You look down at the ugly thing you’ve got on. “I only put it on because it’s cold.”

“Yes, really. I really, really like it. Especially that color….”

“Oh. Well…thank you,” you respond, although you’re seriously judging your husband's fashion taste. 

Then, five minutes after the conversation has ended, Gojo brings it up again. “I told you I love that color on you, right?”

“Yeah, you told me…literally five minutes ago.”

Gojo smiles. “Because it’s true. I love it.” 

And you give him a confused little nod, because the sweater was about to go right to the donation center. But since he likes it so much, maybe you’ll keep it. 

In Gojo’s mind, complimenting the color of the sweater should translate to any other articles of clothing you have in that color. And once you connect the dots you’ll wear the lingerie for him.

Throughout the week he starts making even more puzzling, random comments.

“Put a finger down if you’ve ever hidden something from your husband.”  

“Have you ever wanted to wear underwear but like, fancier?”

“Wouldn’t it be crazy if we had sex while wearing clothes?”

But either you’re ignoring all of his hints or you really don’t understand what he means, because you haven’t been entertaining these remarks of his. So now he has to bring out one last trick.  

Step 4- Give Her Insane Amounts of Money Everytime She Goes Shopping

Gojo’s been practically begging you to go out shopping all week long, and you’ve finally finally agreed to go, although you don’t understand why he’s pushing so hard for it. 

“Fine, if you want me out of the house that bad…” you sigh as you grab your keys. 

“No, it’s not that. I’m coming with you.” 

Gojo takes you to an outdoor mall, and it’s a beautiful day outside. The sun is shining, the birds are singing. The perfect setup for people to make impulsive purchases. 

The whole trip Gojo’s on his best behavior, waiting patiently for you to browse through store after store, giving you his opinions as you try on different outfits. He doesn’t complain. He doesn’t even try to get you to stop at the food court so he can sample all of the desserts. 

Something else a bit…sweeter is on his mind. The thought of you using his card to buy yourself some more lingerie. 

Pretending it’s accidental, Gojo guides you towards one store in particular(one he knows sells lingerie), pointing out some random robe he sees in the storefront window.

“This one next!” 

You hesitate to go inside. “Are you sure?” 

Gojo nods. “Yes. I’m sure. It looks like your kind of place.”

You don’t move an inch, and Gojo smiles, thinking he knows the problem. ‘Of course she wouldn’t want me to follow her around when she buys lingerie! It’ll ruin the surprise.”

So Gojo just pulls out his card and hands it to you. “I’ll be over at the food court. Get yourself something… special.”

He gives you this little smirk that you have no idea what he means by, and he chuckles as he turns on his heel to walk away. 

While he enjoys something sweet in the food court he see a message from you asking if he’s getting tired and wants to leave soon. He just types back, “Nope. Take your time, sweetheart ;)"

And sends you an extra $100 dollars, because why not?

Surely you’ll get the hint. 

Step 5- Get Caught Jerking Off To Her Lingerie

It’s now been officially a week and a half since Gojo first found that lingerie in your shopping bag. But despite all his efforts, you still have no idea what he’s trying to hint at. The only thing he’s accomplished is making you think he’s lost his mind.  

The thought of you all dressed up in one of those lacy sets has been torturing him for a while now, so today, when you’re out shopping, Gojo can’t help but shove open your underwear drawer, pull out the first lingerie set he sees, and stuff it up to his nose. 

It smells like fresh laundry detergent rather than your scent and that disappoints him a bit but…the fact that it smells like laundry must mean you’ve worn it recently. And if you’ve worn it recently it means this fabric was all pressed up against your skin…

The hand that’s not holding onto the lingerie pulls out his aching cock, and he closes his eyes and jerks his fist to the thought of you. How you’d look splayed out underneath him on the bed, all decked out in soft, pretty lace. 

How he’d caress you through the dainty fabric and feast his eyes on the sight of you all wrapped up for him like his own personal present. 

Gojo jerks himself harder as the scene in his mind becomes more and more clear. He can practically feel the warmth of your skin. Taste the sweetness of your lips. Hear you moaning and and whining and–

“Toru?” 

There you are, standing in the doorway and watching your husband in shock. He quickly whips around to face you, looking surprised–but not the least bit guilty.

“I thought you–fuck–left to go shopping.”

“I was about to… but I forgot my coat…” Your explanation dies down and your confusion increases as you see what’s stuffed into your husband's fist near his face. 

A flash of light pink lace… it’s that set you bought last week! 

He’s sniffing it and crushing it in his grasp. Ramming his hand down onto his cock and making obscene moans, all while keeping eye contact with you.

“Is that my–”

“Yes, " he answers quickly.  “Why–why did you hide them from me, baby?”

It’s impossible for you to formulate a coherent sentence while watching the filthy sight unfolding before you. Your husband looking all crestfallen and hurt and furiously fucking his poor flushed dick. 

But if you had the words to explain you’d tell him that you weren’t hiding them, exactly. Most of your lingerie has been gifted to you by your friends. You’d only recently bought that little pink set on your own. Several times you debated surprising Gojo by wearing them one night, but you were too embarrassed to actually go through with it. So you were satisfied by just owning some pretty pieces of clothing to wear for yourself in the mirror every now and then. You never thought your husband would react like this.

“Wear it for me, please,” Gojo begs. And you can’t deny him when he’s asking like this. 

As you go over to him to reach out to pry the lingerie from his grasp, he quickly shakes his head. “No, no. The crotchless blue ones.” 

You raise a brow, because how would he know about that pair? Gojo just gives you a shy smile and watches as you open your dresser and take out that light blue set that matches his eyes. 

You can feel his heated gaze still on you as you slip your clothes off and take your time stepping into the dress. 

When you turn towards Gojo and he gets the full sight of you, his hips stutter and he almost cums right then and there. 

“Fuck–you look beautiful,” he breathes. 

The lingerie in his hand is forgotten and tossed to the floor as he sinks down to his knees and grabs your hips. His lips kiss at the soft flesh between your thighs before he’s parting them and watching as wetness drips from your swollen pussylips. 

“So wet for me,” he whispers, his warm breath ghosting over your clit and making you shiver. “Liked watching me jerk off, huh?”

Your husband nuzzles his nose towards the scent of you and and moans deeply, then he nudges two fingers inside your hole and licks a long stripe up to your clit. He starts sucking and licking and thrusting those fingers in and out of you. Then he’ll pull the fingers completely out and suck your wetness from them before shoving them right back in.

It's like seeing you wearing lingerie gave him some newfound vigor, because he's lapping and sucking you like a man starved. Like he'll die if he stops. And he's intent on showing you that with every motion of his mouth and hands.

When he pulls his head away for a fraction of a second to gulp up some air, you grasp his hair and pull him right back to you. “Keep going, Toru–I’m close,” you huff as you cling to the white strands of his hair for purchase. 

 Gojo obliges, grinning and mumbling about what a ‘needy little thing you are’, and yet he’s the one moaning and bucking his hips into nothing, already pussydrunk from tasting you for a few minutes. 

His hand gripping your hip moves back to your ass so he can push you even closer. And with this new sensation of being all pressed up against his face, you’re cumming, moaning and yanking hard on his hair in a way that he seems to like. 

He finger fucks you through the last waves of his orgasm, then rises to his feet and carries you over to bed. 

Gojo yanks his clothes off and hovers above you with arms on each side. And his eyes widen as he fully drinks in the sight of you laying down before him. Just like he imagined. But better.

 But he’s not moving. He’s not even breathing. 

And this is what you were worried about. Him seeing you like this and not liking it. Your hands instinctively move up to cover yourself but–

“No, sweetheart. Don't cover yourself. I want to see you.” 

Gojo gently moves your hands away, and his own start to roam over you, caressing your body and rubbing you through the material of the lingerie. It’s almost teasing, to have you so covered yet still so exposed. To have you in something only he will see. 

And then he’s kissing you, all hungry and hot and wet, while grinding his dick back and forth through your folds. 

“Toru, put it inside,” you're whining. 

He does, with one, deep thrust that has you gasping and arching your back. He sits inside of you for a bit, allowing you to adjust to the size of him.

“You take me so well, pretty girl,” he murmurs against you. 

And tonight your husband doesn’t fuck you, he makes love to you. All slow and gentle and passionate. Each thrust like a deep kiss into your body. Each touch of his hands tender, adoring graze. Like you might break if he holds you too hard.

The whole time he's whispering and murmuring praises, about how good you feel about how beautiful you look. Rambling a whole mess of words like he's not even aware of what he's saying.

He slides his dick alllll the way in, rolling his hips and rubbing over all your most sensitive spots. And then he dragggs himself out, his veins massaging your walls. 

His thumb travels down to swipe at your clit and it’s all too much–his mouth at your neck, his cock stuffing you full, and his thumb just gently circling until you finally finish and cry out his name. 

And Gojo’s close, too, his head tilted back and his eyes fluttering shut but fighting to stay open so he can keep watching you. His hips pull back and you know the second he thrusts into you again he’s going to cum, but you never feel the warm spurts of his release.

Instead, he pulls his dick out completely and aligns it with your stomach, finally shooting his hot ropes of cum all over your belly. He watches in fascination as the sheer blue material darkens in color and clings to your skin, and he starts thrusting his dick back and forth through his own release and spreading it all over your chest. 

You scoff in disbelief when he’s finished, but he stares down at the mess he’s made like it’s a piece of art. 

“W-what the fuck, Satoru? You know I can’t wear this anymore, right?”

Gojo wipes the frown away from your face with a gentle stroke against your cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll buy you a thousand more of these sets, baby.” 

you cleared your throat, seated opposite him at the excessively vast dining table, attendants stationed at each corner, ever poised to respond to the slightest summons or command.

“… this weather is… quite pleasant.” you muttered, attempting to make conversation with him while you poked your food around your plate. the quiet click of wood against porcelain being the loudest sound in the room. second to that of your heart hammering in your chest.

when you looked up from your plate you noticed his gaze on you, his eyebrows slightly raised, but hardly by an inch. you were certain that he had no other expressions available.

“it is raining.”

oh. you glanced to your right and noticed the gray sky, and, as if on cue, a loud crack of thunder rolled across the horizon. you were so in your head about what to say to him that you had no idea of the chaos going on in the outside the dead estate.

“ah. you are... correct”

silence settled between you once more, thick and deliberate, you could’ve swore you heard a few servants snickering, as they found your suffering amusing.

you decided that perhaps you should eat more, that way you could leave faster; so you stuffed your mouth full of steamy white rice, praying that either you finish before him, or he finish before you. and soon.

“must you sit so far away”

“huh?” you choked, steam tickling your throat. quickly covering your mouth and stifling your soft coughs. doing your very best to remain proper in front of your newly wedded husband, hoping he would not have you executed for your lack of manners.

“you’re acting like i’m going to attack you.” he lazily blinked at you before taking a slow sip of his tea, placing the cup down with a quiet clink that echoed faintly against the wooden walls, looking at you expectantly. “it's how you've been acting the entirety of your stay.”

a clap of thunder followed almost immediately.

“well… i am only sitting where i was told to, my lord.” you hummed, a small pout taking its place on your plush lips.

“lord? i am your husband, not your master.” he titled his head almost as if uninterested. “despite all that, you continue to run from me. why? do you think i am going to harm you?”

you froze for a brief second.

“…i am sorry?” you blinked at him incredulously, heat slowly rising to your cheeks.

you weren’t entirely sure if he was genuinely curious on why you've been evading him.. or if this was him being nice.

if it was, it was the most confusing attempt at benevolence you had ever encountered… considered the whole "malevolent" vibe was his thing.

to your dismay, he didn’t elaborate. just took another slow sip of his tea, a mix of yomogi and mitsuba filling up the room.

you huffed quietly, straightening your posture even more as if to prove a point. “i am not running from you. i'm here now. see.” you repeated, downing another heap of rice along with your steamed vegetables.

“only because i called you here.”

you swallowed. “that is … not true.”

“uh huh...”

he studied you for a moment, then he stood. the legs of his large chair scraped softly against the floor, the sound startling in the otherwise quiet dining hall. your eyes widened slightly. he brushed past your chair, muttering “enjoy your meal.” in that gruff tone of his. you could’ve sworn you caught a glimpse of his sharp canines as that handsomely wicked smile took form on his lips.

the door slid shut behind him, leaving you alone with your chopsticks still resting besides your hardly touched plate.

you sighed, scarfing down one last spoonful of white rice, that was now no longer appetizing after what felt like agonizing hours of silence and humiliation.

you waddled back to your quarters, defeated at another failed attempt to bond with your newly wedded husband, pale garments dragging softly along the well polished floor as you walked.

sukuna didn’t force you to share a bed with him, nor did he ask you for anything intimate.

you figured it was because he understood your need to adjust, or maybe he just preferred his own space and had no time for the expected marital practices. or bonding for that matter. either way, you told yourself it was probably the nicest thing he had done so far.

inside your chambers, the afternoon light was warm and quiet, as the storm finally passed over. at first you didn’t notice it.

the small bundle sitting neatly on your resting mat. a neatly folded kimono.

you walked closer and crouched slightly to look at it. the fabric was a deep, muted green. pale cherry blossoms painted along the bottom hem, thin lines of gold swirls stitched into the fabric.

it was beautiful. and just your size. you were certain he had it made just for you. but you didn't want to get ahead of yourself.. it could be something he had just lying around.

but deep down you knew that wasn't true.

beside it was a small slip of paper. you picked it up. two words were written in firm, simple strokes.

"wear this."

how charming for a king.

the silk felt smooth between your fingertips, light and cool, soft enough that you found yourself rubbing it absentmindedly, just to feel the quiet glide of the fabric. it was nothing like the garments you had back at home which were primarily cotton.

normally, you spent most of your time in your quarters, sketching the view outside your window, the quiet garden trees swaying gently in the wind, a small cluster of pale flowers growing near the stone path, and the way sunlight filtered through leaves in soft patches on the ground.

but not today. today you decided you would explore. you slipped on your new outfit and your silk shoes.

you began wandering through the estate halls, the soft clack of wood against floorboards following you as you walked. the place was still big and a little intimidating, but you were getting better at remembering the path and shortcuts.

you wondered if sukuna would care if you had ended up getting trapped in some forgotten closet or something… he’d probably think you tried to escape from him and have you executed once he found you.

orrr.. probably not. that was a little extreme. but still, you’ve heard many stories about your husband. many said he was cruel, dangerous. impossible to please. you weren’t entirely sure how much of that was true… yet. and you certainly didn’t want to test those rumors any time soon.

after what felt like hours—which was really only a couple of minutes—of wandering and mentally marking walls and turns, you heard the familiar, heavy clack of wooden sandals approaching from the other side of the corridor… two sets of footsteps actually.

sukuna and—

“uraume.”

he began, his voice was low and steady, the kind of tone sukuna always used when he was being serious about something he was very clearly annoyed about.

“yes, master sukuna?”

“why does this woman still avoid me? does she not like me??”

there was a short pause.

“i'm beginning to tire of this. since her arrival i have even been taking those 'herbs' that are supposed to ease your nerves, as opposed to acting so brazen.”

uraume sighed. “oh? so that is why you've been so uncharacteristically calm. well, for one.. maybe she thinks you want to eat her,” humming sarcastically.

well, perhaps he did. just.. not in the traditional sense.

you rolled your eyes at his comment, mentally scoffing. what is his problem.. was he actually relying on herbs to not frighten you off with his ill attitude?

silence followed. 　　“uraume. do you think i'm handsome?”

the footsteps stilled, and you could hear uraume giggle. “you're asking me.. if i think you are handsome? or if she thinks you are handsome?”

sukuna sighed dramatically. “i'm serious… have my looks been lacking? usually other women and concubines flock to me.. but i have given that up.” he murmured, his pout audible from miles away.

he groaned, “actually scratch that. that can’t be it..."

you could hear the snap of his thick fingers as he had a 'eureka' moment. "do you think she's caught wind about the stomach tongue??”

stomach what?

from behind the corner of the wall, you felt your ears grow warm. did he think you found him unattractive? that was certainly not the case.. not even in the slightest, in fact you were ecstatic at the fact he was handsome man.

and… was he sulking? in the candlelit hush of the manor, you had to swallow the urge to laugh at how openly petulant he was being, all narrowed eyes and brooding silence like a disgraced warlord denied his due.

you weren’t entirely sure, but the thought of sukuna being worried—truly worrying—that you didn’t find him desirable made something in your chest tighten in a way you pointedly refused to examine.

but more importantly, the footsteps drew nearer down the corridor, steady and unhurried, and you found yourself suddenly uninterested in entertaining your “husband” and his ever-present right hand man at this particular moment in time.

the low, steady cadence of his voice threaded through the corridor like something inevitable, followed by uraume’s calm, unbothered reassurance that you “simply required time,” both of them drifting closer with the kind of composure that made your stomach sink in slow recognition.

you jolted.

suddenly, you were very aware of yourself. the angle of your stance. the fact that you were not hidden in any meaningful way. the fact that anyone with even half a mind could connect the dots between this exact spot and a certain level of eavesdropping that would be… diplomatically unwise.

you froze like a court attendant caught reading a forbidden scroll.

whipping your head around for some form of escape, you notice a small wooden gate sat between two stone walls, almost hidden by overgrown vines. it wasn’t locked, but it didn’t look like something people were meant to enter without permission.

you rushed in, sliding the door shut behind you, only to realize you had stepped straight into a garden. the corridor had connected the estate to the outdoors, revealing a quiet, carefully kept space lined with smooth stone paths and clusters of chrysanthemums blooming in soft whites and pale pinks.

a small pond rested off to the side, koi fish gliding lazily beneath the surface while trimmed shrubs and low maples framed the edges with deliberate care. it certainly wasn't abandoned.

it looked maintained.

meticulous, even. and most importantly it was beautiful.

you took a slow step forward, wooden clogs pressing lightly against stone, eyes scanning the neat rows of plants and the way everything seemed too deliberately arranged to be accidental.

…was this his?

no… it couldn’t be. sukuna was terrifying, cruel in the his crimes would be told for generations, but also the same man who had just been sulking at the mere possibility that you might not find him attractive. the contradiction sat in your mind like a coin spinning between two impossible sides.

even so, you wandered deeper into the shockingly large garden, where soft wind chimes trembled in the breeze and small animals moved freely between the paths. it was unexpectedly beautiful—so much so it almost made your chest ache.

you noticed a cluster of chrysanthemums near the edge of the path that looked… particularly miserable. their petals sagging toward the soil like they had quietly surrendered to fate. with a small frown, you crouched beside them, already convinced they were in desperate need of water, reaching for the wooden pot nearby.

close.

too close.

before you could properly commit, a warmth brushed the shell of your ear.

“what do you think you’re doing?”

there he was. sukuna. crouched beside you, one eyebrow raised, equal parts exasperated and faintly entertained.

“you can’t just sneak up on someone like that!” you snapped, rubbing your elbow.

his elbow rested lazily on his thigh, hand propping up his chin. dark robes pooled around him like ink settling into stone, utterly unbothered by your indignation.

“i called your name three times before i approached you,” he replied evenly. “you were too busy trying to waterboard my children.”

his children..?

you pushed yourself up with a huff, smoothing down your silk kimono like dignity could be restored through the expensive fabric alone. he stayed crouched by the flowers, fingers already brushing one of the drooping leaves.

“i see you found my gift.”

you paused.

“…gift?”

oh.

right. the garments.

“yes,” you said quickly. “it is rather nice.. thank you.”

his gaze flicked up to your face this time.

“it suits ya.”

your ears warmed again.

“…how did you even get my measurements?”

“i got them while you were sleeping,” he said flatly, like it was the most reasonable thing in the world.

you stared.

“sorry, what?”

he exhaled, almost bored. “relax. it wasn’t me. it was your handmaiden.”

“that’s not any better!” you shot back, scandalized. “you’re such a degenerate..”

sukuna finally looked up properly then, one brow lifting as if you were the strange one in this conversation.

“…it’s fabric,” he said simply. “not a crime.”

he stood then, unfolding to his full height until he was once again towering over you. he studied your offended expression for a moment; your puffed cheeks, the way you refused to meet his eyes.

a faint smile tugged at his mouth. you were adorable. despite the fact you tried to call him perverted.

“fineee,” he mused, dragging the word out. “next time, i will simply ask you. no need for hysterics.”

you crossed your arms with a huff. “bastard. there will not be a next time.”

his head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing in quiet calculation.

“so…” he began, far too calmly, “it’s not acceptable to take your measurements while you sleep?”

“no?!”

his smile widened, just slightly. you were suddenly aware of how little distance there was between you two. the faint heat radiating from him, impossible to ignore.

“why are you here anyways?” you muttered, as you began to walk with unnecessary speed down the stone path. “did you follow me here? creep…”

as if you weren’t the one who had just been eavesdropping on his entire conversation and retreating into his private garden like it was an emergency exit. an accident. obviously.

behind you, his sandals clicked against stone at an infuriatingly unhurried pace.

“here we go again.. you run, and then you accuse.” he drawled.

before you could snap back, a strong hand caught your arm and tugged. hard and firm. you stumbled back straight into him, solid, unmoving. he didn’t even shift an inch. your breath hitched. his chest was warm, too warm.

“i have told you already,” he said, voice low, leaning down just enough as if he wanted you to feel it rather than hear it. “do not run from me.”

he dipped closer, just a little—close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath near your cheek, tilting his head innocently.

“and besides,” he added, almost amused, “this is my garden. if anything, you are the one intruding, fool.”

“your garden?” you scoffed, falling into step beside him, closer than before, though you refused to acknowledge how natural it felt. “no doubt you have a thousand attendants tending to it.”

without warning, he stepped off the stone path — pulling you gently but firmly with him.

“hey—!”

“quiet.”

he led you through a narrow break in the hedges you hadn’t noticed before. the space opened into something hidden, what you assumed to be his private sanctuary. cherry blossoms arched overhead, petals drifting lazily across a much larger pond that reflected pale pink against the water.

he stopped beneath one of the trees.

with barely any effort, he reached up and plucked a blossom from a low branch, the movement smooth, deliberate. the pale petals rested between his thick fingers as he held it in front of your face. a faint, sweet, powdery scent brushed your senses.

“this,” he said calmly, “is a cherry blossom.”

“i know that—”

his eyes rolled up at you from the flower, giving you a stern, but not unwelcome, glare that shut you right up.

“they bloom for a brief span,” he continued, twirling the stem between his fingers, “in the early spring. they demand harsh winters to enter proper dormancy. if the air be too mild, the bloom weakens. it requires great patience to cultivate them rightly.”

petals drifted down between you with each cool breeze.

“they are not tended by servants,” he added evenly, “they are tended by my own hand. were it otherwise, I would know nothing of them.”

he lowered the blossom slightly, eyes settling on yours, your gaze flickered between the blossom and his features. you couldn’t help but notice how his sharp looks softened in the natural lighting of the outdoors.

you didn’t notice him move until his hand lifted.

warm fingers brushed lightly against your hair, careful in a way that felt strangely deliberate. you froze.

“what are you—”

he didn’t answer.

instead, he tucked the cherry blossom he had been holding into the side of your hair, adjusting it slightly with slow, precise movements as if making sure it would not fall out.

his hand lingered for just a moment longer than necessary, brushing your outershell before dropping away.

“there,” he said.

you blinked. for such a large man he was surprisingly gentle.

“…what was that for?”

“what? it matched your garments,” he replied nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t all giddy inside. “it would be wasteful not to put it to good use.”

you squinted at him. "that was not a very useful explanation…"

but he was already looking away, gaze drifting toward the pond as if the conversation was finished. and yet the corner of his mouth was doing that very faint, very annoyingly smug thing again.

“well– thank you..” you chirped, the words coming out softer than you expected.

a comfortable silence stretched between the two of you, the breeze bristling in between the leaves and branches of the cherry blossoms, the occasional raindrop creating a ripple in the pond. an after effect of the storm that had passed by.

“you know, you're much more tolerable when you stop pretending you don’t want to be here.”

translation: you are more pleasing to look upon when you are not fleeing from me as though i were plague.

your chest felt strangely tight, but you decided to blame it on the pollen. “well.. maybe if you didn't act so...” you said, ignoring the butterflies that fluttered around in your chest..

“what? moody? fearsome?” he cut in without even looking at you, already turning back toward the flowers as if he had finished reading your thoughts before you spoke them.

“i was going to say weird,” you muttered, softer now. “i do not find you scary…”

you rocked back and forth, shifting your weight from heels to the tips of your toes.

“and besides…” you glanced at him, sheepish, before muttering under your breath, “you have a stomach tongue…”

his head snapped toward you.

“what?”

“nothing!”

a quiet huff left him, almost laughter, paired with a slow roll of his eyes. how absurd. he let the silence settle for a moment, gaze lingering on you as if weighing whether you were serious or simply beyond help.

then, at last, he spoke again.

“would you like your own part?”

“huh?..”

“your own space. within my garden.”

you blinked.

“…you are.. serious?”

he exhaled softly through his nose. “yes. entirely serious… woman.” his gaze stayed on you, steady and unblinking.

“whatever you desire,” he added after a pause, “name it.”

you couldn’t help it—your face lit up instantly, words spilling out before you could temper them.

“oh! perhaps orchids!! or peonies?? can you get more chrysanthemums? i know you have many but they are very beautiful! and maybe a small stone bench so i may sketch whenever i—”

his hand came down on your shoulder, firm.

“slow down,” he said, faintly exasperated.

then, after a beat:

“only on one condition.”

“.. huh?”

he stepped closer, yanking you forward with one hand.

suddenly you were too aware of everything; of the strength beneath his robes, the steady heat radiating from his body the way he simply did not move when you collided with him.

“you…” he began.

he leaned down slightly, voice dropping until it brushed the shell of your ear once more.

“need to learn to stop running away from your husband.”

your heart gave a very unreasonable, very traitorous little flip.

and in the quiet that followed, something in you settled instead of panicking.

then, with soft, growing certainty, you decided you were very excited to be the wife of ryomen sukuna.

His eyes snap open and his smile falters into a puzzled frown. He's staring blankly at the wall in pure disbelief.

Sukuna looks at you and blinks. "Me?"

He can’t believe it.

You, the soft and timid girlfriend who avoids conflict at all costs, are sleep talking your pent up frustration. The same girlfriend who has never sworn around him just cursed him the hell out like you've been holding it in for years.

Beside him, you sigh in your sleep and keep going.

“Can’t even… pick up after yourself,” you mumble while your brows twitch faintly. “Always expectin’… me to do unpaid labor.”

His mouth parts. “Baby, that’s—”

“Never had a messy house,” you murmur, snuggling closer to him. “Until you. Feels like… a thankless job.”

His lips press into a thin line. That heavy, unfamiliar feeling settles in his chest. Sukuna slowly rolls onto his back, one arm tucked under his head, and blankly stares up at the dark ceiling.

He doesn’t sleep after that. Not even a minute. Instead, he lies there wide awake, replaying every habit, every mess, and every time he said: "I’ll clean it later."

When you wake up the next morning, the house is spotless, and a warm cup of coffee waits for you on the table. Your gaze shifts to your boyfriend, who is busy doom scrolling on his phone, while his other hand's wrapped around his own mug.

When he notices you, he glances up and mutters a short greeting, “Hey.”

His tone makes you frown. “Uh… hi?”

You walk up behind him, arms slipping around his neck as you kiss the top of his head. “You don’t sound okay.”

He exhales slowly, then sets his phone down. After a pause, he asks quietly, “You’d tell me if things weren’t okay with us, right?”

You blink. “Of course..?”

He turns fully toward you, resting his forehead against your stomach. "And we promise we'd sort things out right away."

Sukuna's hands slide gently up and down your bare thighs, almost unsure if it's the right thing to do in the moment.

“So... I'll start by saying I'm sorry, and I didn’t mean to make you feel like that,” he says softly.

You gently smooth his hair, utterly confused with what he meant. “Baby, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“…You called me a fucking—” your eyes slowly grow wide. “Piece of—” you swallow hard, already guessing the next word in your head. “Shit.” Your mouth falls open in shock.

When he looks up, you notice the dark circles under his eyes.

“Creative swear combo, I’ll give you that,” he says with a bitter laugh. "But holy fuck did that sting.”

You stare at him intently with furrowed brows. “I would never say that to you.”

“You did,” he replies quietly. “In your sleep.”

Your jaw drops in shock that you immediately crouch down in front of him, meeting his eye level as you cup his face and start apologizing over and over.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry,” you rush out. “I don’t even know why I said that. I swear I never meant—”

He studies you for a moment, then grabs your hands and press soft kisses into them.

“You weren’t wrong though,” he admits. “I was being a slob.”

You blink, then glance around the spotless house. “…Did I say something about the house?”

“Mhm,” he hums while absentmindedly fiddling with your fingers. “I’m sorry I didn’t do my part with the chores.” Then he hesitates with a frowning. “I understand if you wanna leave m–"

“Leave you?!” you gasp in shock. “I would never leave you!”

Sukuna’s head snaps up, just as stunned. “But you said living with me feels like a thankless job.”

“I said that?!” Horror flashes across your face. "No way... did I grow balls overnight?"

You both pause, staring at each other in silence. After a moment, you start chuckling together.

“You got me fucked up,” he mutters as he pulls you in closer. “Got me losing sleep and shit.”

You giggle as you plant kisses all over his face. "I'm sorry my sleep talking kept you up."

Sukuna even clicks his tongue as he shakes his head with a grin, "You like that, don't you? Having me wrapped around your little finger."

Days and weeks passed, and the house stays clean. Sukuna did stay true to his word: the house is always spotless, he picks up after himself, and most of all, he keeps you stress-free and well-fucked.

And sometimes, when he watches you sleep, he smirks a little because apparently, even your subconscious knows how to keep him in line.

“oi.”

you froze with your hand on your purse, about to reach for your keys, head snapping up at his voice as he made his way toward you, his hands buried deep in his pockets.

you turned your head slowly, eyes trailing up his tall frame, though looking at him only made things worse; his pink, coral strands faintly glowing under the streetlight, tan skin catching the light, black markings accentuating the sharpness of his features.

yeah. you didn’t stand a chance.

“. . . what?”

he scoffed. “what?” he mimicked under his breath, head tilting slightly, eyes sharp and fixed on you. “you forgetting something?”

your brain only buffered, eyes darting between his face and everything else: left, right, anywhere but him. “no..?” — humming under your breath as you dug through your purse.

lip gloss.

receipt.

wires.

a sonny angel, for some reason . . ?

everything but your keys.

normally, you weren’t this awkward. you just weren’t used to this. dates with people you actually found attractive. emotionally. intellectually. physically. romantically. sexually—

“you regret comin’ out with me?”

oh . . . 

for a second you almost forgot he was there. well not really. sure, you tuned him out but you could definitely feel him. you could never really ignore ryomen sukuna; the sound of his breathing, the shift of his weight, his presence pressing against your senses, it was all there.

“what?” you blurted, finally looking at him in the eye.

sukuna leaned against the wall beside your door, pink hair shifting against his forehead, his expression unreadable, save for the faint amusement in his eyes.

“you heard me.”

your brows knitted together, mouth opening, then closing, before finally speaking: “no…”, your voice coming out a soft whisper.

his slitted eyebrow only cocked up at you, a faint laugh escaping his throat. “no?” the single word rolled off his tongue slowly, thick with amusement as he watched you, heat crawling higher up your neck under his stare, your movements growing clumsier the longer he looked at you.

“you’ve been diggin’ through that bag for, what, five minutes now. plus you nearly jumped outta a moving vehicle.” he continued lazily, pushing himself off the wall beside your door. “it makes a man wonder.”

“i’m not doing anything,” you said, quieter now, finally meeting his eyes for half a second before looking away again. “you’re the one who keeps staring me down.”

“mm,” he hummed, “so, lookin’ at you’s the issue.” his eyes flickering over your face once more, slow and unhurried. “that right?”

well, yes, that was part of the problem. but it wasn’t thee problem. because the actual problem was much worse. the actual problem was that you liked sukuna. like. like-liked. and he liked you too.

“well, no! i just—”　　 what an insufferable man. 　　“i really liked going out with you,” voice going a mile a minute before taking a deep breath, lacing your fingers together in front of you, fidgeting under his gaze. “i loved it.. actually.. i’m not trying to run from you or anything.”

“just nervous.”

“nervous?” he repeats after you, the word foreign on his tongue, “that’s what we’re callin’ it? you’re just embarrassed ‘cause you’ve got it bad for your boyfriend.”

your heart nearly jumps out of your chest, heat flooding your face all at once. “what?! no! don’t put words in my mouth.” you blurt, your hand flying up to shove his chest with a dull thud.

sukuna only lets out a low laugh before his hand comes up quickly to close around your wrist mid motion; his grip gentle but firm, holding you there as his other hand stays buried in his pocket. barely trying.

“so… you gonna say bye properly now?”

you gulp, your hand relaxing in his soft grip. “well… how do you want me to say bye?”

sukuna doesn’t answer, instead, he gently lowers your hand between you, scarlet eyes locking onto your softer, pliant eyes.

“your call.”

and the space between you two seems to freeze, soft silence of the night stretching between the two of you. easy on his end, unbearable on yours.

“w—well…” your eyes flick between his for a second before betraying you entirely, dipping down to his lips without meaning to. “i—” you huff. your throat feels dry, yet it feels unreasonable. sukuna wouldn’t judge you, you hope.

“i wanna kiss you… goodbye...”

“platonically,” you added after a moment.

. . .

his brows lifted slowly.

“you wanna kiss me. platonically?”

“um.” your voice came out smaller than intended. “yes.”

“yeah? and i’m sure those pretty little eyes of yours are lookin’ at me real platonically too.”

“that too.”

silence.

then sukuna hummed low in his throat, all amusement, already taking a step back.

“ah. got it.” he turned slightly, gesturing vaguely over his shoulder. “well, in that case— have a nice night.”

your eyes widened immediately. “wait—”

he kept walking.

not far. just enough to be annoying.

“sukunaaa,” you whined, hurrying after him before your fingers caught around his forearm, dragging him back to your doorstep. “not like that.”

a soft huff escapes him, his mouth quirking upwards, canines softly refracting the dim light — not quite a smile, but rather satisfaction. “hm?” he glanced down at your hand on his arm. “so now it’s not like that?”

your grip tightens for a second before you realize it and quickly loosen your hand, heat rushing straight to your face. “i—no, i mean—just—don’t pretend you don’t know what i mean…”

his gaze flicks over your face for a second, slow and unreadable, before he scoffs “you’re the one makin’ it complicated.”

“shut up,” you mutter instantly, but there’s no real bite to it, just embarrassment as you finally tug him a little closer.

his hand comes up, settling near your jaw, thumb resting against your warm cheek. your fingers catch lightly at the front of his shirt as you rise onto your toes.

before you could overthink, your lips meet his.

it’s quick. chaste. shy even.

his eyes flutter shut a moment after, his free hand coming out of his pocket to steady you by the waist, warm and heavy, yet restrained, seeping through your clothes.

he doesn’t kiss you back immediately, letting you mold against him. he tilted his head, lips pressing gently against yours; warm, and embarrassingly sweet.

you pull off his lips slowly, a hesitant look in your eyes, your breath catching lightly as you settle back down flat on your feet, hands still gripping the fabric of his shirt.

your heart was beating so hard you were sure he could hear it. did he like it? did he think you were a bad kisser? to be fair, you didn’t kiss many people. or often. but what if—

“hell,” he mutters, like he didn’t expect that, “you even kiss cute. kinda sweet.”

you pant, “what does that even mean?”

his gaze flicks back to your mouth and the slight furrow of your eyebrows.

the way your fingers still cling lightly to his shirt, the shy warmth clinging to your skin, even that stupid little clip tucked into your hair.

a quiet exhale leaves him through his nose, almost a laugh.

yeah. annoyingly cute.

“why’re you always askin’ obvious questions?”

“because youre always saying weird things,” you huff, “and you’re annoying.”

he lets out a soft laugh, leaning down slightly to your height. “i’m annoying?”

you only nod, biting down on the plush of your lip before looking away again, suddenly very interested in anything but him.

except before you could give an actual rebuttal, his lips meet yours deeper this time, no longer testing the waters. still gentle, but an unspoken certainty lingering in the way he kissed you. his mouth warm against yours, moving slow and unhurried, giving you all the time in the world to keep up, hell, even backout if you wanted to, the space between you disappearing.

his hand shifts from your waist up to your jaw, cradling your face and simply holding you in place for the moment. his other arm staying firm at your side, keeping you close without pulling too hard, steadying your wobbly steps against him.

you swallow down a gasp before your eyes slip shut, your nose bumping lightly against his, the angle a little awkward, a little clumsy, yet perfectly you.

it only makes him breathe out something softer against your mouth, amused, as if it’s exactly what he expected from you.

the kiss deepens for a few more seconds — slow, and warm — until it didn’t feel like teasing anymore. just a need held taut beneath careful restraint.

then he pulls back just slightly, just enough for air, his thumb still lingering at your cheek, in no rush to let you go.

“okay . . . was that . . a good goodbye?” you murmur, breathless, still a little dazed as you finally force yourself to step back.

he lets out a low “hm” under his breath, his thumb dragging lightly against your cheek. “yeah. it was good.”

“s’pose i can let you go now.” removing his hands from your sides, drawing a small, inward pout from you.

your hands went back to your purse, fingers already digging through it again—until sukuna stopped you.

“here.”

you pause.

and there they were.

your keys, dangling right in front of your face from his fingers with a soft jingle, cute, colorful keychains swinging in the quiet night air. you gasp before snatching them immediately.

“you bastard! you saw me looking for them!”

he lets out a soft huff of laughter, not even trying to defend himself. “you dropped them while you were busy runnin’ from me,” he hums, shifting his weight back against the brick wall beside him, a faint, sly smirk settling in on that stupidly handsome face of his, “when i asked if you forgot somethin’, you said no.”

you scoff before rolling your eyes, “well! i thought you were talking about saying bye?!”

his gaze flicks over you, steady and thoroughly amused. “two things can be true at once.”

you make a small sound of frustration and snatch the keys tighter in your hand, glaring up at him through your lashes anyway.

“…thanks,” you mutter.

“…go on,” he murmurs, voice low. “before i change my mind and keep you right here.”

and you knew he wasn’t joking. that man was about one breath from devouring you right then and there.

you turn quickly, fumbling with the lock, the soft jingle of your keys echoing in the stillness, his presence still radiating from behind you. his gaze dropped briefly to your hands . . .

“you alright?”

“yes.”

“you’ve missed your keyhole three times now.”

“i know!” you shoot back immediately.

the door unlocked with a soft click, warm light spilling out into the hallway.

“ okay . . . ” you hummed.

“okay,” he repeated, looking down at you expectantly, waiting for you to head inside.

but instead, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms tightly around his waist.

a low, rough laugh rumbled out of him before his arms circled around you instantly, strong biceps trapping your head against his chest. his scent, a deep, clean mix of cologne, so distinctly him, filling up your senses and making your head feel all dizzy.

despite his rough exterior, sukuna was soft, surprisingly so. maybe it was the steady weight of his chest against your body, or maybe it was the quiet way he held you that made it hard to think. either way.

you liked it.

you pulled away first with a small cough and an awkward straightening of your clothes, cheeks warm enough to burn through metal.

“okay! um— bye, sukuna,” you blurted awkwardly, already backing toward your apartment door.

except your shoulder clipped the doorframe on the way in.

“fuck—”

you fumbled with the handle in a panic before practically stumbling inside. “bye! goodnight!”

and then, you’re gone.

the door shutting a little too hard behind you, a muffled “ow!” coming from behind the door.

outside, sukuna exhales through his nose, shaking his head as the corner of his mouth curled upward.

“…yeah,” he murmurs to himself. “that tracks.”

The attendants behind him had turned white as ghosts, bracing for the inevitable spray of blood. Sukuna’s jaw had set, a terrifying, low growl vibrating from his chest. But you hadn't trembled.

You hadn't scrambled to fix your posture. You had just looked at him with an expression of profound boredom.

If he wanted to kill you, he would kill you. Fawning over him wasn't going to change his nature, so you simply refused to waste the energy.

He hadn't killed you. Instead, he had left, the doors slamming shut with enough force to rattle the shoji screens.

And that was the exact moment the nightmare began. Because from that night onward, Sukuna became an insufferable, permanent fixture in your life.

"You are eating that wrong."

You stopped your chopsticks halfway to your mouth, letting out a long, slow exhale through your nose. It was midnight.

You had been looking forward to a quiet, solitary meal of cold rice and pickled plums, but Sukuna had simply materialized in the corner of your room ten minutes ago, dripping wet from a thunderstorm, and had proceeded to sit directly on the edge of your bedding.

"I am eating it the way I have eaten it for more than twenty years," you said, not looking at him. "If my technique offends you, the door is exactly where you left it."

Sukuna scoffed, leaning back on his palms. His massive, tattooed frame took up half the space in your small room, his lower arms crossed over his chest while his upper right hand casually reached over and swiped a plum straight from your bowl.

"You have a wretched attitude," he remarked, popping the fruit into his mouth and chewing lazily. "The women in the east hall weep with gratitude if I so much as glance toward their courtyard. You look at me like I am a stray dog that ruined your garden."

"Stray dogs are quieter," you muttered, finally looking up to glare at him. "And they don't steal my food."

Sukuna’s lower mouth twitched into a sharp, jagged grin. He loved it. The realization turned your stomach, a strange, dizzying mixture of irritation and heat.

He didn't come to your room because he wanted a concubine; he came because he was a creature driven entirely by conflict, and you were the only person in the entire empire who refused to give him the satisfaction of a fight. You gave him nothing. You gave him a wall of pure, unbothered apathy, and it was driving him entirely insane.

He leaned forward suddenly, crowding your space. The smell of the storm, ozone and rain, rushed over you. Before you could pull back, his large, calloused hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around your jaw.

It wasn't the brutal, bone-crushing grip he used on his enemies. It was controlled, a heavy, unyielding restraint that forced your face up toward his.

"You should fear me," he murmured, his upper eyes tracking the movement of your throat as you swallowed. His thumb thumbed the soft skin right beneath your lower lip, a deliberate, electric friction that made your toes curl inside your robes. "A single flick of my finger, and this pretty little throat splits wide open."

You met his gaze evenly, refusing to let the wild, frantic thudding of your heart show on your face. "Then do it. I'm tired of your bragging."

Sukuna froze. For a second, the silence in the room was deadly. Then, a loud, booming laugh tore from his throat, the sound rough and genuine as he released your jaw, shifting his weight until he was practically draped over your lap, his heavy head resting casually against your thigh.

"Insufferable," he muttered, closing all four of his eyes as if he owned the space. "Utterly insufferable."

You stared down at the King of Curses currently using your legs as a pillow, your hand hovering over his unruly pink hair, entirely tempted to shove him off. But you didn't. You just sighed, picking up your chopsticks again, ignoring the way his subconscious weight felt entirely too natural against you.

The shift happened. In Sukuna’s dictionary, words like love or devotion were meaningless concepts invented by the weak to justify their dependency. He would never admit to favoring you. If anyone asked, he would simply say you were a minor amusement, a dull distraction from his boredom.

But the rest of the estate wasn't blind.

The servants noticed that the rare silks brought from the western raids, the ones Sukuna usually threw into the treasury to rot—somehow kept finding their way into your wardrobe because he had casually grumbled that your current robes looked "like rags."

The guards noticed that if Sukuna left your courtyard irritated, he was significantly less likely to execute someone in the main hall.

And then there was the incident with the lord of the northern clans.

During a formal banquet, the lord had made a passing, disparaging remark about your status, calling you an "eccentric, useless mouth to feed" who didn't know her place.

You hadn't even heard the comment; you had been across the pavilion, systematically ignoring Sukuna’s attempts to make you try a cup of sake.

But Sukuna had heard it.

He hadn't made a scene. He had simply stood up, walked over to the lord’s table, and dismantled the man’s entire lineage within three seconds, leaving the pavilion drenched in red before sitting back down next to you, casually picking up his chopsticks as if nothing had happened.

"You're exhausting when you're angry," you had murmured, wiping a stray drop of blood from the sleeve of your robe with a click of your tongue.

Sukuna hadn't answered. He had just grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand toward him until you were forced to use your sleeve to wipe a smudge of gore from his cheek instead. He hadn't asked. He had just assumed your hands belonged on his skin.

Late one evening, weeks later, the heat of the summer had turned the air thick and oppressive. You were lying awake in your bed, staring at the ceiling, when the shoji screen slid open without a sound.

Sukuna stepped inside. He looked exhausted, the heavy marks of a curse battle still lingering in the tension of his shoulders. He didn't speak. He just shed his heavy outer robe, letting it hit the floor, before crawling directly onto your sleeping mat.

"Go away," you groaned, trying to roll over to the far edge. "It is too hot for this."

"Silence," he grunted, a large, heavy arm snaking around your waist from behind. He hauled you back against his chest with a single, effortless tug, his massive body completely enveloping yours.

His chest was blazing hot, a furnace of pure cursed energy, and his face buried itself directly into the crook of your neck.

"You cling too much," you muttered, though you didn't actually fight the hold. It was a useless endeavor anyway.

"What nonsense," Sukuna rumbled, his voice thick with sleep, his lower arms tightening around your hips, anchoring you so securely to him that you could feel the rhythmic, heavy thud of his heart against your spine. "You are small. You fit here. Stop complaining."

You lay there in the dark, his breath warm against your skin, his long, sharp fingernails absentmindedly tracing patterns into the fabric of your garment near your ribs.

He was completely unaware of how intimate the gesture was, how entirely possessive his body became the moment he was near you. He thought he was just resting. He thought he was just taking what was his.

You turned your head slightly, looking back at him. His eyes were closed, his expression unusually peaceful in the dim moonlight.

"You're an idiot, Ryomen Sukuna," you whispered softly.

A faint, arrogant smirk touched his lips, though he didn't open his eyes. His hand moved up, his fingers lacing through yours with a casual, unthinking pressure, locking your hands together against the bedding.

"And you are still breathing," he murmured into your skin, his grip tightening just a fraction more. "Be grateful I find your stupidity so entertaining."

You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into his terrifying, inescapable warmth, finally accepting that while the King of Curses would never say the words, his actions had already rewritten the entire world around you.

............................................................................