Bored Little Gal

which is why the internet loses its mind when he posts you for the first time. not a hidden face or a soft launch, but an actual photo of you together. the one with his arm around your shoulders while you laugh at something off camera, completely unaware he’s looking at you like you hung the moon.

he tells you over and over not to read the comments, but you do anyway, scrolling through people asking who even are you or why he’s dating you at all until he catches you. he sighs softly, and pulls you into his lap. “baby,” he murmurs against your hair, “why are you listening to people who don’t know me when i’m right here loving you?”

as he was about to take your phone away from your hands, his eyes reach one particular comment that said, "i've met them irl and when i swear to god he sounded so annoyed with her."

he gently takes your phone, sets it aside, and captures the hand that was holding it. his fingers slide between yours, interlocking them in a firm, possessive grip. He brings your joined hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles before bringing his lips to your ear.

"they don't know what i sound like when i'm inside you, do they?"

his voice low against your ear. you shiver as his warm breath tickles your skin, your body instinctively leaning into his touch. "well, they don't know anything," you whisper back, your voice barely audible.

he chuckles softly, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through you. "exactly." His lips trace a path from your earlobe to your jaw, leaving a trail of soft kisses that make your toes curl. when he reaches your neck, he nips at the sensitive skin there, just hard enough to leave a faint mark - a claim for anyone who might see.

you gasp at the slight sting, tilting your head to give him better access. "someone might see that," you manage to say between breaths.

"someone should see that." he murmurs against your skin before returning to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. his tongue teases yours as his hands begin their exploration - one cupping your breast through your shirt, thumb circling your nipple until it pebbles under his touch, while the other works at the buttons of your shirt.

"let them see," he says between kisses, finally undoing the last button and pushing the fabric from your shoulders. "and wonder why I'd ever look at anyone else when I have you."

your bra follows quickly, his warm hands immediately replacing the lace as he palms your breasts. "you're so perfect," he breathes, thumbing your nipples again. "absolutely perfect."

his mouth trails down your neck once more, this time lower, taking one nipple between his lips and sucking gently. Your back arches instinctively, a soft moan escaping your lips as his other hand works at removing your skirt and panties in one smooth motion.

when you're completely bare before him, he pulls back slightly, "you know what you are to me?" his eyes dark with desire as they roam over every inch of you. "a goddess," he whispers, tracing his fingers down your stomach. "that's what you are. and I'm the luckiest man alive to worship at your altar."

he shifts beneath you. you can feel his hardness pressing against you through his jeans. "so, my goddess, tell me what you want." he murmurs, his hands gripping your hips as he positions you over him. "i'll do anything for you."

you bite your lip, reaching down to palm his erection through the denim. "you," you say simply. "just you."

with a groan, he lifts you, but not to free himself. Instead, he repositions you until your dripping sex is hovering directly in front of his face. His eyes darken as he stares at your glistening folds, his breath warm against your sensitive skin.

"fuck, look at this pretty pussy," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. "all mine to worship."

Hhs hands grip your hips tighter as he pulls you closer, his tongue darting out to taste you. a sharp gasp escapes your lips as he licks a slow stripe from your entrance to your clit. one hand leaves your hip to roughly grab your breast, pinching your nipple between his fingers.

"you taste so fucking good," he groans against your core. "i could eat this sweet pussy all night."

his mouth closes around your clit, sucking hard as his tongue flicks rapidly against the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips begin to move instinctively, grinding against his face as he devours you. His other hand joins the first, roughly kneading both breasts as you ride his face.

"that's it, my goddess," he encourages, his words muffled against your flesh. "use my face. fucking ride it."

his tongue plunges into your entrance, fucking you in rhythm with your grinding hips. the wet sounds of his mouth on your sex fill the room, mingling with your increasingly desperate moans. gis nose presses against your clit as he tongue-fucks you deeper, his hands still roughly massaging your breasts.

"mine," he whispers against your clit. "all mine."

"yours," you gasp back, your fingers tangling in his hair as you match his pace. "always yours." he always knows how to help you forget something that upsets you.

He wasn't sure how long he'd followed it but now he was here. Standing in the middle of his living room. The home he'd once shared with you. He called out your name but his voice was so distant and echoey to himself even.

He walked through the house, trying to find you and he finally did. Sitting on the edge of the bed that seemed too big for just one person. He called out your name again but you didn't look up. He rushed to you, to hold your hands but his fingers just turned to smoke and passed through yours.

"Baby? Baby, I'm right here-" He knelt down, trying to touch your face but he couldn't.

You were leaning over, his white blindfold was wrapped tightly around your hand and you were crying. The only sound in the room was that of your little hiccups.

"Sweetheart- Please- I'm right here-" Satoru's voice wavered as well. He moved closer still to hear what you were mumbling. What he heard, broke his heart even more.

"You weren't supposed to leave me-" You sobbed, clutching his blindfold. "How could you leave me?"

"I didn't-" He whispered then all the realization came downing on him.

He gasped no and stood up, stumbling backwards. No, no, no-

"Everyone keeps saying you died a hero-" You cried because you just couldn't stop. "But I didn't a he- hero-" You hiccuped, "I wanted my husband to come home."

Satoru watched you cry yourself to sleep. Curled up on your side, taking up as little space as possible.

The days or weeks that followed, helped him piece together things. He'd been dead for two months now. Things were better, normal, safer. Life was moving on for most of the survivors. And you? You were putting on a very brave front for everyone else to see.

His closet was still untouched but every few days, you'd pick out a piece of cloth and keep it with you until it lost his scent, and then folded it to a donate pile.

The worst of all was hearing his own voice. Every few hours, you'd dial his number and hear his voice.

Hello! You've reached the strongest. Leave a message after the beep. Unless you're my beautiful wife, then why are you calling me and why aren't you with me?

You'd let out a watery laugh every time you'd listen to it and leave a little message of how you missed him and tell him about your day.

The ghost of Satoru Gojo followed you around for five months. Until his birthday.

He watched you go through the motions. Come home, take off your clothes, shower, pluck out one of his clothes to wear to have yourself smell like him then eat barely enough to survive and sleep. However, something felt very off today.

He watched you come home, and instead of getting ready for a shower, you started to fill the bath. And not your usual hotter than hell water- No. He watched you fill it with ice cold water. He followed you around, confused-

Like always, his blindfold was wrapped around your hand and wrist. The bath filled behind you and you sighed, leaning over the sink.

"Happy birthday, baby." You whispered to yourself then looked up. You looked so different now. You skin was duller, your cheeks hollow, your eyes surrounded by dark circles. You tried giving yourself a smile but it felt like mockery at this point. You took a breath and leaned over to turn off the tap that was filling the tub.

You opened the mirror cabinet above the skin and took out all the medicines that were in there. Various painkillers, flu medication, anxiety pills- Everything.

"Sweetheart?" Satoru swallowed, "Babe- What are you-" He couldn't even word it out. He felt a horrid feeling creep across his smoky form and he didn't like it one bit.

He watched in horror as you filled a glass of water and take all the pills, one by one by one-

Satoru tried screaming your name, trying to make you stop- But it was all for nought. He simply phased through you.

Once you started to feel dizzy and weird, you sat into the cold bath fully clothed. The sudden change in temperature made your breath stall but still, you forced yourself to breathe. Your eyes were so heavy and you leaned your head back.

Satoru was screaming at the top of his lungs- Like an animal caught in a trap- But it was no use. No one, nothing could hear him.

For months, he'd watched you. Watched you smile at Yuuji that you were doing okay, lie to Megumi that you were eating, tell Shoko that you were doing your exercises. And a part of him was starting to believe that maybe a part of you was starting to heal. But all that was completely undone right now.

"Can't do another day without you." You whispered as you head lulled to the side.

Satoru fell to his knees, trying to make your head straight again, but his hands just kept passing through like smoke.

"Please- Please- If there's a god, any god, let me save her. Please-" He begged desperately as you eyes got droopy and you slid deeper into the tub.

He hated himself for getting such a large one made. When you'd gotten married, he'd had this massive tub installed because he had plans to bathe with you as often as possible and have sex in it without worrying for space. But right now, he wished that he'd never gotten the infernal thing made.

"Please. Someone. Anyone -" He sobbed and then suddenly, the room tilted. His breath caught and he looked down. His hands weren't as see through anymore. He tried to grab at you again, he still phased through but this time he felt your fading warmth.

That was something.

He kept pushing and pushing but time was running out and it was running out quickly. He tried all his techniques and then as a last ditch effort, he whispered his domain.

The air changed in the bathroom and he felt more solid.

"Sweetheart?" He said shakily, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek. He gasped when he finally made contact.

You looked up, blinked slowly. Your eyes red and dilated. "Satoru?" You managed a smile, "I'm coming, baby." You slurred and your head fell backwards again, your body slipping into the water completely.

Satoru screamed no and as he lunged forward, the domain broke and he turned translucent again.

He watched with exceptional dread as bubbles floated to the surface and then slowly stopped altogether. Your body, unmoving then gently floating up to the surface. You looked at peace, finally. Your expression was eased. Open. Like you were asleep without nightmares plaguing you.

He stayed on his knees, franctically looking around, hoping that your soul would join him in this in-between of worlds. But soon enough, the horror settled in.

Satoru Gojo had rejected the light and followed your voice. You, however, had no one calling for you, so why would you not go into the afterlife?

"Please... please don't let me lose her twice." He cried out for someone to hear his plea, to grant him this one singular mercy. But nothing happened.

Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer, and his curse to be forever lonesome, persisted even in the end of all ends.

.

.

.

“I am already judging you,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes at the thing on the table. “You walked into my home carrying what looks like a cursed object people find in horror movies five minutes before everybody dies.”

That earned a loud snort from Brielle, who was curled up in your armchair with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders despite the apartment being warm enough to melt candles. She pointed at the board between laughs.

“No, seriously,” she said, still grinning. “When Lila pulled that thing out of her trunk, I thought she was joking.”

“She wasn’t,” said Marcus from the couch, where he was already leaning forward like this was the best entertainment he’d had all week.

“Unfortunately,” Brielle added, and that made Marcus laugh harder.

Lila rolled her eyes so dramatically it was honestly impressive. “You guys are so dramatic,” she said, folding her arms over the board like she was protecting it from your collective stupidity. “It’s just a game.”

“A game?” you repeated, setting the chips down and walking closer. The nearer you got, the less it looked like a game and the more it looked like something nobody should have been touching in the first place. The wood was dark enough to seem almost black under the living room lights, carved with symbols you didn’t recognize and looping patterns that seemed to twist in on themselves if you stared too long. There were no logos, no instructions printed on the surface, no company name stamped into the corner like some cheap novelty item. Nothing about it looked mass-produced. Nothing about it looked normal. “Lila, this thing looks like it came with a free exorcism.”

The room erupted into laughter again, but Lila clutched the board to her chest like she was personally offended. “You people have no imagination,” she said. “The woman at the antique store told me it was a spirit communication board.”

The three of you seemed to be waiting for someone in the room to explain why the words antique store and spirit communication board had just been used in the same sentence.

“The antique store?” you finally repeated, staring at her like she had completely lost her mind.

Lila nodded, looking absurdly proud of herself. “Yep.”

“The spirit communication board?” you repeated, because apparently your brain needed to hear the words twice before it could fully reject them.

Another proud nod.

You let out a long breath, dropped onto the couch, and pointed toward the front door without even looking away from her. “You know what? I think you should leave.”

“Oh, shut up,” Lila said, laughing like you were the unreasonable one here.

“No, seriously,” you said, leaning back and rubbing a hand over your face. “I invited everybody over to drink, eat junk food, and watch bad horror movies. At no point did I agree to summon whatever Victorian child ghost is trapped inside that thing.”

That only made the laughter louder, mostly because nobody in the room actually believed the board worked. That was the problem. If somebody had genuinely thought they were about to contact the dead, the conversation would have ended right there. Instead, everyone drifted closer with the exact energy people get when they are about to make a terrible decision purely because it sounds funny and they are too bored to stop themselves.

By the time you realized nobody intended to talk Lila out of it, she was already digging through the box. “Look at this,” she said, unfolding a yellowed sheet of paper that looked old enough to crumble if she breathed on it too hard. “It came with instructions.”

“Why does that sentence somehow make this worse?” you muttered.

“Because you’re a hater,” Lila said without looking up.

“Because you’re holding cursed parchment,” Brielle corrected from the armchair, still half-laughing but now with a little less confidence than before.

Even with the jokes still bouncing around the room, your attention drifted to the paper in Lila’s hands. The amusement started to thin out the longer everyone read over her shoulder. The instructions weren’t written like game rules, and they weren’t even written like somebody trying to be spooky for fun. They read like warnings from someone who had desperately wanted future idiots to take them seriously.

DO NOT BEGIN AFTER AFTER MIDNIGHT.

DO NOT PERFORM THE RITUAL ALONE.

DO NOT LEAVE THE RITUAL UNFINISHED.

DO NOT SUMMON WHAT YOU CANNOT DISMISS.

For the first time all night, nobody laughed immediately afterward.

It wasn’t exactly fear. It was more like the uncomfortable silence that settles in when everybody realizes something is a little stranger than they first thought. The kind of silence that makes the room feel smaller. It lasted only a few seconds before Brielle leaned back against the couch and shrugged, trying to shake it off.

“Honestly,” she said, forcing a grin, “that’s kind of cool.”

You turned to look at her. “That’s your takeaway?”

“What?” Brielle said, lifting one shoulder. “It’s got commitment.”

“Brielle,” you said flatly, gesturing at the paper, “it is literally threatening us.”

“Allegedly,” Marcus said from the couch, but even he didn’t sound as amused as he had a minute ago.

── დ ──

Lila should have let it go.

Honestly, you thought everybody should have let it go.

The warnings were weird enough to kill the mood, and for a few minutes it actually seemed like common sense might win. Brielle had gone back to scrolling on her phone, Marcus was halfway through demolishing the remaining pizza, and you had already started reaching for the TV remote when Lila suddenly sat upright on the floor like she'd just remembered something important.

“Oh, come on,” she complained, looking around the room with the kind of dramatic disappointment only Lila could pull off. “We can't stop now. We literally haven't even tried it yet.”

You immediately pointed at her from across the couch. “Yes, we can. In fact, I think stopping is the smartest thing we've done all night.”

“No,” she said, dragging the word out while already pulling the board closer. “You don't get it. If we don't at least try it once, I'm going to spend the rest of my life wondering if it would've worked.”

"That's the sacrifice I'm willing to make." You stared at her for a second, genuinely waiting for her to laugh and admit she was joking. When she didn't, your expression flattened immediately.

Brielle burst out laughing so hard she nearly dropped her phone. Marcus wasn't helping either, grinning into his soda while watching the argument unfold like he'd bought tickets for it.

Lila groaned dramatically and threw both hands into the air. “You are such a buzzkill.”

“You brought a haunted board into my apartment,” you said flatly, watching her adjust the candles with way too much enthusiasm for someone who claimed this was “just a game.”

“It isn’t haunted,” she shot back without even looking up.

“That is not helping your argument,” you muttered, and Brielle immediately snorted from where she was sitting cross-legged on the floor, already too entertained by your misery to pretend otherwise. Marcus, on the other hand, looked like he was trying not to laugh while Lila finally sat back on her heels, arms folded like she was personally offended by everyone’s skepticism.

The room dissolved into another round of laughter, but unfortunately for you, the majority had already chosen a side. Brielle slid off the armchair first and dropped onto the floor beside Lila, curiosity winning over common sense faster than expected. Marcus followed immediately afterward, looking far too entertained by the possibility of making terrible decisions.

“Honestly,” Brielle admitted, crossing her legs beneath her, “if we're already here, we might as well try it.”

“Thank you,” Lila said, pointing at her triumphantly.

“You're all idiots,” you informed them.

“Probably,” Marcus agreed.

“But you're joining us anyway.” Lila said, with a smug smile on her face that you just wanna wipe off.

You opened your mouth to argue.

Then sighed so deeply your soul practically left your body.

“Fine,” you muttered while standing from the couch. “But if any demonic shit pops out of this board, I'm beating every single one of your asses before I die.”

That earned enough laughter to shake the room.

“Deal,” Brielle said immediately.

“Fair,” Marcus agreed.

“See?” Lila grinned while scooting over to make room for you. “Now we're having fun.”

Within minutes the living room looked completely different. The overhead lights had been switched off, leaving only the soft glow of several candles arranged around the board. Shadows stretched across the walls in long flickering shapes that shifted every time a flame moved. Under normal circumstances it would've been a genuinely creepy atmosphere, but it was difficult to take any of it seriously when Marcus kept stealing chips from the snack bowl every thirty seconds.

Lila unfolded the instructions again, smoothing the old paper across her knee while everybody leaned closer.

“What exactly are we doing?” you asked, squinting at the board. “Because nobody has actually explained that part.”

“I did research,” Lila announced proudly, like that was supposed to reassure anyone.

The room collectively reacted the exact same way—low groans, scattered laughs, the kind of immediate disbelief that didn’t even need explanation. Brielle leaned back on her hands and sighed like she’d already accepted this was going to go badly, muttering that “that’s never a good sentence” while Marcus shook his head like he couldn’t believe he’d been dragged into it.

Ignoring her completely, Lila continued. “I found an old website talking about this exact board. Apparently it's supposed to be kind of like an off-brand Ouija board.”

“Off-brand?” you repeated again, staring at the board like it might suddenly explain itself.

“Yeah,” Lila said, way too casually.

You exhaled through your nose, rubbing your temple as you stepped closer. “How do you even have an off-brand version of talking to dead people?”

“I don’t know,” she said with a grin that only made it worse, “ask the dead people.”

That earned an awkward pause from everyone, not fear exactly, just that weird beat where nobody knows if they’re supposed to laugh or admit that sounded slightly more unsettling than intended. It passed quickly, though, because Brielle immediately broke it with a laugh and Marcus followed right after, like the moment couldn’t be serious for longer than a few seconds without somebody ruining it.

Lila rolled her eyes before continuing. “Anyway, according to the website, you're supposed to follow the instructions exactly. You ask questions, keep your hands on the pointer, and if there's a spirit nearby it'll answer.”

The room fell quiet after that.

Everybody placed their fingers where the instructions said, Lila cleared her throat and began reading the instructions, The first attempt lasted nearly two minutes.

Nothing happened.

The candles flickered occasionally, but candles always flickered. The board never moved. No voices appeared. No ghostly messages materialized from beyond the grave. Eventually everyone started looking at each other with expressions that practically screamed, Seriously? That's it?

“Maybe we did it wrong,” Lila insisted anyway, already refusing to let the idea die.

You glanced at her like she was insane. “You think?”

Somehow, against all better judgment, everyone ended up sitting on the floor in a loose circle, candles lit, the board between them like the center of something that absolutely should not have been happening in your living room.

Lila kept reading instructions out loud, careful and annoyingly confident, while the rest of you followed along just to prove it wouldn’t work, fingers resting on the little pointer as if that alone made it less stupid.

The first attempt dragged on longer than anyone expected, not because anything was happening, but because everyone kept waiting for something to justify the effort. Nothing did. The candles flickered normally, the room stayed normal, and after a while even the energy in the circle started collapsing into boredom.

“So we’re just doing this again?” Marcus eventually asked, breaking the silence with a yawn he didn’t even bother hiding.

“We might be doing it wrong,” Lila repeated for what felt like the fifth time.

“You’ve said that four times,” Brielle replied lazily.

“Because we almost did it right,” Lila insisted.

And just like that, it turned into repetition instead of ritual, the kind of cycle where belief slowly gets replaced with annoyance, and even Lila’s excitement started sounding more tired than convinced. They tried again anyway, because nobody wanted to be the one who admitted it was pointless first, but the second attempt felt even more like nothing than the first, like the room itself was refusing to cooperate out of sheer indifference.

Still nothing. No movement. No response.

Just candles burning down and time slipping further than anyone intended to stay awake.

By the time Lila leaned back with a frustrated sigh, even she sounded less certain than before, and Brielle had already started checking her phone again like reality was calling her back. Marcus stretched out on the floor like he’d given up entirely, and you finally leaned back with a tired breath, breaking the circle without even meaning to.

“You’ve said that four times,” Brielle reminded again.

“Because we almost did,” Lila repeated, but it didn’t sound the same anymore.

You let out a quiet laugh under your breath, shaking your head as you pushed yourself up from the floor. “No, you didn’t,” you said simply, and this time nobody even argued back.

You let out a quiet laugh under your breath, shaking your head as you pushed yourself up from the floor. “No, you didn’t,” you said simply, and this time nobody even argued back.

And that was the moment it stopped feeling like a ritual at all and went right back to just being four friends sitting in a living room at an ungodly hour, tired, bored, and completely unaware of how close they were to something they absolutely should not have been messing with in the first place.

After what feels like an hour of nothing happening, the mood has completely collapsed into boredom. The candles are still burning, the board is still sitting there, but whatever excitement Lila had been feeding off at the beginning has already drained out of the room, leaving nothing but tired laughter and the shared realization that this was just a dumb idea dressed up as something spooky.

“Okay,” Brielle finally says, breaking the silence while stretching her arms above her head, “this is officially boring.”

Marcus lets out a small laugh like he agrees but doesn’t want to say it out loud. Lila tries one last time to focus on the board, muttering something under her breath like it might suddenly respond out of guilt, but even she sounds less convinced now, her fingers loosening from the pointer like she’s already halfway done with it emotionally.

“Maybe we should just call it,” you say after a moment, leaning back slightly and glancing around the circle. “Nothing’s happening, and I’m pretty sure if something was gonna happen, it would’ve done it by now.”

That finally does it.

There’s a small wave of agreement, not dramatic, just quiet acceptance, like everyone has been waiting for someone else to say it first. One by one, hands leave the board, candles are carefully blown out, and the living room slowly returns to normal lighting, the illusion of whatever they were trying to do dissolving instantly under the brightness of reality.

Goodbyes happen in pieces after that, scattered across the doorway and hallway as shoes get put on and jackets get grabbed. Lila is the last one to leave, still insisting that “something definitely almost happened,” while Brielle laughs and tells her she needs sleep. Marcus waves casually before disappearing down the hallway, and for a moment it feels like the night is just ending the way it’s supposed to.

Then the door finally shuts, Silence hits differently when it's sudden like that.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and glance around your apartment, now too quiet, too still. That’s when you notice it—the board is still on the floor, forgotten in the rush to leave. You frown slightly and bend down to pick it up, expecting it to feel like nothing, just wood and cheap curiosity.

But the second your fingers touch it, something shifts.

A strange heaviness sinks into your body all at once, like your balance gets pulled out from under you without warning. You blink, trying to shake it off, but your vision stutters slightly, edges of the room blurring like your brain is lagging behind reality. The board slips in your grip as your legs suddenly feel less steady, like they’re no longer fully answering you.

“What the Fu-?” you whisper, but your voice feels distant even to yourself.

You force yourself to look up, expecting nothing, expecting just dizziness or exhaustion, but instead your eyes catch something that makes your stomach drop for reasons you can’t immediately process.

There’s someone sitting on your couch.

A man.

Sprawled back like he belongs there, legs spread loosely, posture relaxed in a way that feels almost mocking in how casual it is. Your brain tries to make sense of it through the blur, tries to tell you it’s just your friends messing with you, that someone came back, that you’re just tired and imagining things.

But then your vision clears for half a second.

Four arms.

Resting like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Your breath catches in your throat so sharply it hurts.

The man tilts his head slightly, like he notices you noticing him, and his voice reaches you like it’s coming from underwater—low, calm, and far too steady for how wrong everything suddenly feels.

“You’re slower than I expected, woman."

You try to respond, but your mouth doesn’t cooperate. The room feels like it’s closing in, your heartbeat loud enough to drown out your thoughts. Somewhere in the distance, you think you hear his voice again, maybe saying something else, maybe not, but it doesn’t fully register because your body has already decided it’s done holding itself up.

Your knees give out.

The last thing you see before everything goes dark is him still sitting there, completely unbothered, watching you like he’s been waiting.

Then nothing.

── დ ──

You wake up like your body is returning from somewhere it wasn’t supposed to go, dragging itself back into awareness piece by piece, slow and disoriented, like your mind is trying to remember how to exist inside your own skin again.

For a moment everything is blurry and distant, the ceiling above you too bright, too normal, like nothing about the last few hours makes sense anymore.

Your throat feels dry when you sit up, your head is heavy, And your first instinct is that it was just a dream.

That’s what you try to tell yourself until you turn your head.

He’s still there.

Sitting exactly where he was before.

Because he doesn’t look like anything your brain can comfortably label as human anymore.

Ryomen Sukuna sits on your couch like he owns the space itself, like the concept of permission doesn’t apply to him in any universe. His posture is relaxed, almost lazy, one arm draped over the backrest while the other rests casually against his knee, but there’s nothing soft about the way he occupies the room. It feels controlled, deliberate, like even stillness is something he chooses rather than something he falls into.

His skin is marked—ink-like patterns carved across his face and body, unnatural and ancient, like something written into flesh instead of drawn on it. And then there are his eyes.

Four of them.

Not wandering, Not curious,Focused, On you.

The air feels heavier the longer you meet his gaze, like the room itself is reacting to him, shrinking around the pressure he carries without even trying. You become painfully aware of how small everything feels in comparison—your apartment, your body, even your thoughts.

Then it clicks.

This isn’t some random man who broke into your house: This is Ryomen Sukuna.

The King of Curses.

The realization lands in your chest like something cold and irreversible, because suddenly every strange thing from before makes too much sense in the worst way possible. The board game. The silence. The dizziness. The way reality felt like it tilted the second he appeared.

Your friends didn’t summon a ghost.

They didn’t summon a spirit.

They pulled something else entirely into your home, something that should have never been close enough to breathe the same air as you.

Sukuna shifts slightly, tilting his head as if he can hear the exact moment your understanding locks into place. One of his fingers taps lightly against his knee, slow and absentminded, like he has all the time in the world and you are not part of anything urgent.

“You’re finally awake,” he says, voice calm in a way that doesn’t match anything about him. Not kind. Not angry. Just certain.

Your body reacts before your thoughts fully catch up, tension crawling up your spine as you push yourself further back instinctively, even though there’s nowhere in the room that feels far enough away.

Your mind is racing now, trying to make sense of how your living room became something that feels like a threshold you accidentally crossed into something else entirely.

Because the problem isn’t that he’s here.

The problem is that he’s comfortable here.

And worse than that- You don't know what he wants.

But you have the sinking feeling that once you do, nothing about your life is going to go back to normal again.

── დ ──

You stood frozen in the middle of your living room, heart hammering so hard you felt it in your throat. The man—no, the thing—on your couch was massive, easily eight feet tall if he stood, with four arms, two faces, and tattoos crawling across every inch of his skin like living ink. His lower set of arms rested on his spread thighs while the upper pair crossed over his broad chest. Four crimson eyes pinned you in place, and a slow, wicked smirk tugged at the mouth on his stomach as well as the one on his face.

Your heart slammed against your ribs. Fear clawed up your throat, but heat pooled low in your belly at the same time, an unwanted spark that made your thighs press together. He was massive, every inch of him radiating raw power, and the sight of those extra limbs and the sheer size of him short-circuited something in your brain. The words slipped out before you could stop them. "Holy shit... you're hot. I was expecting Casper the friendly ghost or something stupid like that."

Sukuna's mouth curved into a slow, mocking smirk, one of his lower hands lifting to scratch thoughtfully at his jaw. "Not frightened? How disappointing. Most mortals piss themselves when they see me. But look at you, little one—staring like I'm some prize to be won." His voice rumbled low, laced with that ancient arrogance, and he noticed the way your eyes lingered on the hard lines of his chest and the prominent bulge already straining against whatever dark fabric covered his hips. "You admit it then. You're scared... yet your cunt is already wet for me. I can smell it from here."

He rose to his full height in one fluid motion, towering over you like a predator sizing up prey. All four arms moved with purpose as he stepped closer, the floorboards creaking under his weight. You stayed frozen on the floor, breath coming short, that mix of terror and arousal twisting tighter inside you. Sukuna tilted his head, two of his hands reaching down to grip your chin and tilt your face up toward him. "How did you summon me, girl? That pathetic wooden toy your friend Lila found at some forgotten antique store?"

You opened your mouth to explain, voice shaking as you started to recount the circle and the candles, but he cut you off with a bored wave of one hand. "Enough. Boring details." His nostrils flared suddenly, and a low growl vibrated from his chest. The scent hit him hard—your arousal, thick and sweet, flooding the air and taking over his thoughts like the finest offering.

His eyes darkened further, pupils blown wide as he inhaled deeper, the bulge in his pants twitching visibly. "Fuck. You're dripping already, virgin cunt aching for something it can't handle."

Sukuna's upper right hand scratched lightly under your chin, claws grazing skin just enough to make you shiver. The touch was mocking, almost playful, but the heat in his gaze burned hotter than any flame from the candles. "Look at you, trembling like a leaf but your body betrays you. I can hear your heart racing. Tell me, little mortal—do you want the King of Curses to ruin that untouched pussy of yours?"

His voice dropped lower, thick with lust, and you could see the way his two cocks strained against the fabric now, both thick and heavy, promising more than any human could give. He leaned in closer, breath hot against your ear as one of his lower hands trailed down your side, fingers brushing the hem of your shirt. "I'm more turned on than you could ever be. That fear in your eyes only makes my cocks throb harder."

The air grew heavier with each passing second, his presence pressing down on you like a physical force. Sukuna's smirk widened as he watched the conflict play across your face—scared out of your mind yet undeniably drawn to the monster looming above. One clawed finger hooked under your chin again, forcing your gaze to stay locked on his. "Speak, girl. Or shall I make the decision for you?"

Your throat worked around a dry swallow, voice cracking as the words tumbled out in a shaky rush. "I... I don't know what to say. You're terrifying, but fuck, you're so hot it hurts to look at you. I was expecting some lame Casper knockoff, not... this." Your eyes darted over the four arms, the extra set of eyes blinking lazily on his face, the way his massive frame blocked out the candlelight behind him. Heat flooded your cheeks even as fear twisted your gut, your virgin pussy clenching around nothing while slick gathered between your thighs.

Sukuna chuckled, the sound low and rough like gravel under boots. "Pathetic little mortal. Admitting it so easily. Most would be screaming by now, but here you are, cunt dripping like a bitch in heat for the King of Curses." He leaned down, two of his lower hands gripping your shoulders to haul you up from the floor without effort. Your feet barely touched the ground as he pressed you back against the nearest wall, his upper arms caging you in while the lower pair roamed. One hand slid under your shirt, claws scraping lightly over your stomach, making you gasp. The other traced the edge of your jeans, fingers pressing just enough to feel the damp heat radiating from your core.

"You summoned me with that worthless board your friend Lila dragged from some rotting antique shop," he continued, voice dripping with mockery as his crimson eyes bored into yours. "And now you're mine to play with. That fear in your pretty eyes only makes my cocks harder. I can smell how untouched you are—sweet, virgin pussy begging to be split open."

His breath fanned hot across your neck as he dipped his head, tongue flicking out to drag a slow, wet stripe along your pulse point. You whimpered, body arching despite the terror, thighs squeezing together in a futile attempt to ease the ache building there.

Sukuna's smirk turned predatory. One hand cupped your jaw firmly, tilting your head back while another lower hand yanked your shirt up and over your head in one rough motion. Your bra followed, discarded somewhere in the dark room. His gaze raked over your exposed breasts, nipples pebbling under the cool air and his intense stare.

"Look at these tits. Perfect for my hands." Two palms covered them at once, squeezing and kneading with possessive force, thumbs circling your nipples until they stiffened into tight peaks. You moaned softly, the sound mixing fear and need, and he laughed again—dark, amused. "Already making those sweet noises for me. I haven't even touched that dripping cunt yet."

He dropped to his knees with surprising grace for his size, all four arms working in tandem. Two hands hooked into your jeans and panties, ripping them down your legs in one swift tug that left you bare and trembling before him. The scent of your arousal hit him full force, and Sukuna groaned, nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply. "Fuck, that smell. Delicious. Your body knows what it wants even if your mind is screaming to run." His lower hands spread your thighs wide, claws pricking just enough to hold you in place without breaking skin. The upper pair braced against the wall on either side of your hips.

Without warning, his mouth descended. His tongue—long, thick, and impossibly hot—parted your folds and licked a broad stripe from your entrance up to your clit. You cried out, hands flying to his hair on instinct, fingers tangling in the short strands as pleasure shot through you like lightning. Sukuna growled against your pussy, the vibration making your knees buckle. He licked again, slower this time, savoring every drop of your slick before focusing on your swollen clit. His tongue circled it, flicked it, then sucked the sensitive nub between his lips with obscene wet sounds filling the room.

"Tastes like fucking heaven," he muttered, voice muffled against your flesh. One of his lower hands slid up your inner thigh, two thick fingers pressing at your virgin entrance without pushing in yet. He teased the rim, circling it while his tongue worked your clit relentlessly. Your hips jerked forward, chasing the sensation even as panic flickered in your chest. This was Sukuna—the monster from legends—eating you out like he owned every inch of you. And god, it felt incredible.

He pulled back just enough to smirk up at you, lips shiny with your juices. "You're shaking like a leaf, but your cunt is gushing for me. Virgin hole clenching around my fingers already. Say it, girl. Tell your King how badly you want these cocks inside you." His tongue darted out again, lapping at your entrance teasingly before diving back in, thrusting shallowly as one finger finally breached you. The stretch burned slightly, but pleasure quickly overrode it as he curled the digit, searching for that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids.

You babbled incoherently, hips rolling against his face as he added a second finger, scissoring them gently to open you up. His tongue never stopped—lapping, sucking, swirling around your clit until your thighs quivered and a coil of heat tightened low in your belly. Sukuna's free hands roamed your body, one pinching a nipple while the other gripped your ass, pulling you harder against his mouth. "That's it. Ride my tongue like the desperate little slut you are. I'm going to stretch this tight pussy with both my cocks until you can't walk straight."

His fingers pumping and his tongue flicking drove you higher, your first orgasm crashing over you without warning. Your walls fluttered around his fingers, slick flooding his mouth as you moaned his name brokenly. Sukuna drank it down greedily, growling in approval as he licked you through the aftershocks, prolonging the pleasure until you were a trembling mess against the wall.

He rose to his full height again, towering over you with that same mocking grin. His pants had vanished at some point, revealing both thick cocks—long, veined, and already leaking precum from the tips. One sat above the other, both massive and intimidating. "On your knees now, little one. Show me how grateful you are for the honor of summoning the King of Curses."

Your legs felt like jelly as you slid down the wall, knees hitting the floor with a soft thud. Sukuna's lower hands guided your head forward while his upper pair rested on his hips, watching with that arrogant, hungry expression. The heads of both cocks bobbed inches from your face, the musky scent of him mixing with the faint trace of candle wax in the air. "Open wide," he ordered, voice thick with command. "Let's see if that pretty mouth can handle even one before I ruin that virgin cunt."

You parted your lips, tongue darting out to lick the bead of precum from the lower cock first. The taste was sharp, salty, and it made your head spin. Sukuna hissed through his teeth as you wrapped your lips around the tip, sucking gently while your hand reached up to stroke the upper shaft. His fingers tightened in your hair, not pushing yet, but holding you steady. "That's it, girl. Use that tongue. Swirl it around like you're starving for it." He rocked his hips forward slightly, feeding more of the thick length into your mouth until it hit the back of your throat. You gagged softly, eyes watering, but the sound only made him chuckle darkly.

"Look at you, choking on the King of Curses already. Pathetic and perfect." One of his free hands reached down to pinch your nipple again, rolling it between clawed fingers as you bobbed your head, spit dripping down your chin. The other cock twitched against your cheek, smearing precum across your skin. You pulled off with a wet pop to catch your breath, then switched, taking the upper one between your lips while your hand pumped the lower. Sukuna's groans grew louder, his hips starting to thrust in shallow movements that tested your limits.

"Fuck, that mouth feels good. Keep going, little summoner. I'm going to paint your throat white before I bend you over and claim that tight hole." His voice was a low growl, laced with possession as he watched you work both cocks with increasing confidence.

Saliva coated your lips and dripped onto your bare breasts, the room filled with the wet sounds of your sucking and his heavy breathing. The fear from earlier had melted into something hotter, something that made your pussy throb with need as you took him deeper, determined to please the monster you'd called forth.

The wet, obscene sounds of your mouth working over Sukuna's thick cocks filled the candlelit room, each slurp and gag echoing off the walls as you pushed yourself deeper. Spit ran in thick rivulets down your chin, dripping onto your bare breasts and leaving shiny trails across your skin. Your jaw ached from the stretch, but the heat pooling between your legs only grew stronger with every thrust of his hips.

"That's it, little summoner," Sukuna growled, his lower hands tightening in your hair while his upper pair gripped your shoulders to steady you. "Suck harder. Show your King how desperate that virgin cunt is for what's coming next." His voice dripped with arrogance, crimson eyes half-lidded as he watched your lips stretch around the lower shaft. Precum coated your tongue, salty and thick, and you swallowed around him, earning a low hiss from the monster above you.

You switched between the two cocks, stroking the one not in your mouth with slick fingers, twisting your wrist just the way his groans encouraged. Your knees burned against the hardwood floor, but you barely noticed. All that mattered was the way his massive frame loomed over you, the way his claws scraped lightly against your scalp in approval, the way his cocks twitched and throbbed under your tongue. Fear still lingered at the edges of your mind, but it twisted into something darker, hotter, feeding the ache in your core.

Sukuna's hips rocked forward in shallow thrusts, feeding more of his length down your throat until your nose brushed the coarse hair at his base. You gagged, eyes watering, but he only chuckled darkly. "Look at you choking on the King of Curses. Pathetic little mortal, drooling all over yourself like a bitch in heat. That tight throat feels fucking divine." One of his lower hands slid down to pinch your nipple, rolling the stiff peak between clawed fingers until you moaned around his cock, the vibration making his thighs tense.

"Keep going," he ordered, voice rough with command. "I'm going to flood that pretty mouth before I ruin that untouched pussy. You're going to swallow every drop, understand?" His upper hands braced against the wall behind you as he started fucking your face in earnest, both cocks sliding in and out of your stretched lips in alternating rhythm. Saliva bubbled at the corners of your mouth, strings of it connecting your chin to his heavy balls as they slapped against you with each thrust.

Sukuna's breathing grew ragged, his growls turning into low, filthy praise. "Fuck, that mouth... so eager. You're going to be my favorite little toy, aren't you? Gonna keep you on your knees whenever I want, fill every hole until you're ruined for anyone else." His claws tightened in your hair, holding you still as his hips snapped forward one last time.

Both cocks pulsed hard, and then he was coming—thick, hot ropes of cum flooding your throat and spilling over your tongue. You swallowed desperately, but there was too much; it leaked from the corners of your mouth, mixing with your spit and dripping down your chest in messy white streaks.

He pulled back slowly, both shafts glistening with saliva and cum as they slipped from your lips. You gasped for air, chest heaving, cum and spit trailing down your chin. Sukuna smirked down at you, one hand tilting your face up so he could admire the mess. "Good girl. Look at you, painted like the desperate slut you are."

Your thoughts raced even as your body burned with need. How the hell were you supposed to get out of this? Summoning him had been a stupid dare, and now he was staring at you like he planned to keep you forever. But your pussy throbbed, empty and aching, and when he hauled you up with two of his arms, pressing you face-first against the wall, all you could do was moan and push back against him.

"Time to claim that virgin hole," Sukuna rumbled, lining both cocks up against your dripping entrance.

── დ ──

Sukuna's massive frame pinned you harder against the wall, two of his lower arms gripping your hips while the upper pair braced beside your head. The blunt heads of both cocks pressed insistently at your soaked entrance, stretching your folds without pushing inside yet. Your legs trembled, slick dripping down your thighs in anticipation and nerves.

"Brace yourself, little summoner. This is going to hurt so good." he rumbled again, voice thick with dark amusement.

He thrust forward without warning. The first cock breached you in one brutal shove, the second sliding alongside it a heartbeat later, forcing your walls to stretch impossibly wide around both thick shafts. A broken cry tore from your throat as the burn hit, your body struggling to accommodate the sheer size. Sukuna groaned low, hips snapping until he was buried to the hilt in your untouched cunt.

"Fuck—tight little virgin pussy," he snarled, claws digging into your flesh. "Squeezing both my cocks like you were made for this. Look at you, dripping all over me already." He pulled back only to slam in again, the double stretch punching the air from your lungs with every thrust. Your forehead pressed to the wall, mouth open in a silent scream as he fucked you hard and deep, the wet slap of skin echoing through the room.

Your mind raced even as pleasure started to override the pain. What the fuck were you going to do? You couldn't exactly banish him now—not when his cocks were rearranging your insides and your body was clenching greedily around him. This was supposed to be a stupid game with your friends, a joke. Now you were getting split open by the actual King of Curses, and the worst part was how badly you wanted more. Your pussy fluttered and gushed around him, the initial sting melting into a hot, aching fullness that made your toes curl.

"That's it," Sukuna growled, one hand sliding around to rub your clit in rough circles. "Take it. Milk your King's cocks like the desperate little slut you are." His hips pistoned faster, both shafts dragging against every sensitive spot inside you until your vision blurred. You came hard, walls spasming violently, a gush of wetness soaking his thighs as you sobbed his name.

He didn't slow down. If anything, your orgasm only spurred him on. Sukuna flipped you around with two arms, lifting you effortlessly so your back hit the wall and your legs wrapped around his waist. Both cocks drove back inside from this new angle, hitting deeper, and you clawed at his shoulders as another wave built fast.

"Gonna fill this virgin cunt," he snarled against your ear, teeth grazing your neck. "Pump you so full you'll feel it for days. You're mine now, summoner. Every hole, every drop." His pace turned punishing, the wet sounds of your cunt taking him obscene and loud. You came again, harder this time, squirting around his cocks as your body shook uncontrollably.

Sukuna's growls grew ragged. His lower hands gripped your ass, spreading you wider as he buried himself to the root and came with a guttural roar. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your pussy, so much that it leaked out around his shafts and dripped down your thighs in messy streams. He kept thrusting through it, pushing his release deeper until it overflowed and coated his balls.

He pulled out slowly, both cocks glistening with your combined fluids. You slid down the wall on shaky legs, cum pouring from your stretched hole in thick globs. Sukuna smirked, catching some on his fingers and pushing it back inside you. "Look at this mess. My perfect little cumdump."

Your thoughts spun wildly. How were you supposed to explain this to your friends? How did you get rid of him? But your body hummed with satisfaction, pussy still twitching and leaking his seed, and when he hauled you toward the couch for another round you didn't resist.

Comments and reblogs are appreciated ☆

yandere clan leader yuta who thinks about you day and night. every minute leading up to your ceremony. unwittingly unashamed at how vulgarly he daydreams of you. in clan meetings that run on too long. restless nights when the sheets feel suffocating. especially in the solitude of the ofuro. where’s he’s found himself, more often than not, dick in hand and a whimpering mess. your name aimlessly falling from his lips, damp black hair sticking to his forehead. a haze of steam swirling up around him, as he chased that sweet release. eyes closed, head laid back to fully immerse himself in the image of your pretty lips closing around him.

yandere clan leader yuta who carefully selects a range from modest to extravagant gifts. diamond encrusted jewelry to specially handcrafted kanzashis. all apart of his (self-convincing) plot to lure you in. because yuta had never been more certain. of course he had hand picked every item with you in mind. sure he’d hold off on the luxurious sets boutique lingerie he purchased, with help of your mother for measurements. but that was all in due time and he was ever the patient gentleman.

yandere clan leader yuta who’s grossly familiar to jealousy, but had not since been driven to the point of near insanity. not until now—mere moments before you’re nearly in his clutches. precious little minutes he’d rehearsed for weeks and it’s being ruined. by an annoying, nameless man who unfortunately you shared too many toys with. childhood friends who owed it to each other, to see if a brief romance would outlast a summer on the outskirts of shibuya.

yandere clan leader yuta who sees the faintest hint of tear stained cheeks on his lovely little bride, and tells himself it isn’t because of dread, but rather that this man has upset you. has come between you.

yandere clan leader yuta who doesn’t waste another moment to have the man escorted from grounds of the compound. his stress fluttering away like pink blossoms off branches, as your ceremony resumes without anymore distractions. he’s almost forgotten the rude intrusion when your sweet, wide eyes look up to meet his. his chest more full with every vow, every promise you utter. but your signature in ink is what truly pleases him most of all. delicate letters written with such pretty fingers, as you signed your new name. his name. yuta swears he could get hard just looking at it long enough.

yandere clan leader yuta who has you crying for entirely different reasons. your clean white tabi covered feet hanging over his toned forearms. pieces of your bridal kimono carelessly discarded beside you. toes curling as he drives into your cervix with mean precision. his tired eyes are fixated on the way you swallow him at this angle, folded up and pinned against the tatami like a helpless slut. yuta hadn’t yet known you were a virgin. no, because he likely would’ve taken his time. he would’ve been oh-so gentle in easing you into it. instead of splitting you open, and swallowing every pathetic noise that chokes out of you.

yandere clan leader yuta who has no choice but to slow down, otherwise he’ll come too fast and he’s barely gotten to feel your sweet cunt. he’s waited so many days, so many hours for this. he can’t possibly blow his load now. you’re being so good too. so submissive and sweet. pliant and ready for him to stuff you full, until he’s positive you’re expecting his heir.

yandere clan leader yuta who absolutely relishes having you in missionary. he gets to see your pretty face, after all. and he wouldn’t dare miss a moment of every sinful expression you make, while he relentlessly thrusts into your needy, greedy pussy.

yandere clan leader yuta who whispers the sweetest and somehow most vile words to ever touch your ears. warmth spreading beneath your skin with every dirty encouragement, every praise.

“pretty, pretty girl. You take it as well as I thought you would.”

“how did i get so lucky?”

“why are you still crying, angel? you know i’ll take care of you.”

yandere clan leader yuta whose patience doesn’t last long when your walls flutter around him, at his filthy words. a proud grin spreading across his face when he discovers you love his praise, love it when he talks to you. doesn’t bother to question you may be crying for other reasons. your body speaks to him instead, gives you away in ways that leave you mortified. because how could you give in so easily? this isn’t what you wanted… was it?

yandere clan leader yuta who fucks every thought right out of your pretty head. dumbed down to a pitiful mess of whines and babbles. all the while, somewhere beyond the walls of safety in the compound, yuta’s men are busy handling your early ill-mannered and uninvited guest. unknowingly in unison with every little pant, back arching up into your husband—your past lover gasping, thrashing against wire. life draining, your pleasure snapping.

yandere clan leader yuta who tends to you with the utmost care. such a stark contrast in how he manhandled your hips (finger prints evidence of that) and abused your poor, swollen cunt. he remedies it all with tender kisses and hot tea. coaxing your lips apart to pour the liquid in. “good girl…” he says, genuinely so proud of the woman you’re becoming right before his eyes.