ᡕᠵデᡁ᠊╾━

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.

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

You turned back, seeing Gojo looking at you, smile sly and gaze slightly dimmed, as if drunk on constantly flowing wine. You heard Zeus bickering with the God of Wine over his attempts to alcoholise everyone, but his voice alone wasn't quite clear either, with golden hair already slightly messy and white robes sliding down muscular shoulders.

"Aren't you just a womaniser?" You hummed, already seeing the glimmering bottom of your cup and Gojo pacing towards you. "Leave my nymphs alone, or I'll be the one listening to their cries about your mischievous promises."

He scoffed, sitting down next to you and clinking your cups together. "I've never promised them anything aside from having fun. None of them ever complained." He settled comfortably, a hand behind your back and a lone finger caressing your bare shoulders slowly, slowly. "Who are you taking home today, hm? You know I'm free if–"

This time, you scoffed. "Forget it," you took a sip, never asking him to keep his hands off you. It was nice. He was nice, but there indeed wasn't much chemistry between you two when it came to sex life. "We're not good lovers. Besides, a little dove whispered to my ear that you've been having an affair with a mortal," You stopped, glancing at him with a smile dancing in the corner of your lips. "A male mortal. Prince of Sparta Geto Suguru, from what I've heard. Such a beauty, isn't he?"

Gojo laughed quietly, his eyes following your cunning smile. "Isn't your birdie quite well-informed, hm?"

He seemed taken aback, almost wanting to hide his secret affair from the prying eyes of the Gods. But he didn't know that nothing could have been hidden from you, and little, white doves flying above the skies of the mortal world, maybe following him here and there if you were bored and amused enough to watch his secret romance with a Spartan prince bloom like a pristine flower.

"What? Getting jealous? I thought God was above it."

He snorted, eyes glued to something, someone, over your shoulder.

A dark figure, sitting quietly among the most powerful Gods, one of the three brothers ruling the three dimensions of this world. The "Unseen One", a grim and ghastly man, as if mute and solemn, always in the dark corners or ones barely flustered by candles' gentle tongues. Everyone knew he was there, but rarely glanced towards him, as if ignorance was the only way to handle one of the three most powerful Gods in all of Greece. The one having power over the domain so dark and eerie, mortals prayed to never meet him directly, as if bathing in Tartarus was more pleasant than standing face to face with him.

Hades.

"You also have an admirer, I see," Gojo murmured, while you looked back.

Your eyes met with panic.

Not yours, his.

He looked absolutely terrified, with a glance so flustered and lost, as if your attention alone was the absurdest and scariest thing he could experience. His stare escaped quickly towards his two younger brothers, before, just for a second, it slipped back to you again – your lips and breasts, wrapped tightly in pinkish robes and soft hair caressing your cheeks, reddened like a wine and flushed in a smile.

You indeed had an admirer. For a long time now.

"The oldest one, but also the most peculiar, don't you think? He looks a bit miserable." Gojo hummed to your ear, sitting so close you could feel his sweet breath on your ear. The man in the corner moved slightly, looking between you and the other God with a little frown and eyes so anxious, a small chuckle escaped your lips. "And so jealous!"

"You know, that you've just insulted one of the strongest Gods, right? Also, he has quite good relations with three sisters." Gojo shrugged his shoulders, as if a vision of his thread of life being cut didn't scare him in the slightest. But you, he, and every other God in this feast knew that if there’s anyone Gods and mortals should be the most polite and thankful to, it should be Hades.

Because what could be better than being on good terms with God of the Underworld himself?

"So that's why you haven't slept with anyone recently?"

You hummed softly but didn't answer.

And it was true that as a Goddess of Love, Beauty and Fertility, quite... a few lovers have stumbled through your sheets. All of them just for one night, with both mortals, heroes and demigods always wanting more, but never having a chance with a Goddess herself.

You also never wanted anything more from either of them. Never needed, but just a few gentle touches and charming words whispered to your ear, maybe a thrust one or two and a spasmic tremble of their body, while you were left quite satisfied but never fully.

Gojo was a fine lover, good even, but he was too, well, overpowering, you would say. Too confident, always in control, such a tease, with nymphs hanging off his shoulders and sheets dirtier than you could imagine. He was a fun person to be around and sleep from time to time if you were extremely bored, but… well. 

He didn't know how to handle you as a Goddess. Worship, like a plain mortal, so pathetically and desperately down on his knees, creaming all over his pants just from your one glance.

But you knew a man who could do it.

Because he was always there, in the night sky and quiet wind, within a soft flickering of the candle and moonlight coming to your chamber through a window. In the seeds of the pomegranates that were left in your temple – your attribute, a symbol of desire and fertility, almost as if he wanted to be noticed, let you know that he’s here and has been for a long time.

Hades, no, Choso, a God of the Underworld, barely showed himself up here in Olympus, almost always down in his realm of death. He wasn’t very social, if it was the correct way to describe his rare appearance during all the Gods' gatherings, be it a feast or holiday celebrations. 

He avoided every meeting as much as he could, but somehow appeared every time he knew you also would be there. And during the feasts, he would sit at the table for the highest and mightiest, but always keep himself in the dark, even if the sun shining upon Olympus couldn’t be any brighter.

You glanced at him once again, noticing little nods he gave Zeus and lips curling in a barely visible, timid smile, before he chuckled. And you could swear that softness of his voice was the reason your throat tightened around the swallowed wine.

You coughed, bringing his attention, a worried gaze, and a hand, almost, slightly reaching out to you, before he hid it once again in the wide sleeve of his dark robes.

“Isn't our beauty already drunk?” Gojo cooed, patting your back. 

Wine spilt all over your robes, leaving a dark stain on your half-bare breasts. Gojo chortled, his hand too touchy and too close to your lower back, while Zeus sighed deeply, almost disappointingly. It was hard to see him not disappointed in Gojo and all the troubles, orgies and affairs he was always getting himself into. 

Gojo was still patting your back before something stopped him. 

Someone. 

Choso stood up at some point and came closer so quietly, you didn’t even notice him leaving the table. Just a hint of greaminess filled the atmosphere, with hushed voices and faint whispers of the demigods and nymphs, glancing upon a looming figure bathed in darkness.

Your coughing stopped, but warm tongues of flames scratching your skin were suddenly dimmed by a tall man with dark hair touching his shoulders and cupping pinkish cheeks softly. Dark eyes, filled with so much concern it made your stomach turn, looked down at you, with surrounding them purplish circles, giving his handsome face even more earrines. Your gaze slipped to his long earrings swinging lightly with every step, one of delicate shell and the other of snake, so opposite to one another but harmonising so beautifully, you couldn’t help but feel a pang in your heart.

But. Wait a second. 

Wasn’t a shell an attribute of–

“Here,” you heard a low voice, and the next second, a black handkerchief was extended towards you. “You can use it to, um, to clean yourself. It’s black, so i-it won’t leave a–“

Oh dear god. 

How pitiful he looked, with eyes running between your face and breasts, cheeks flushed in a cherry, such a contrast with his deadly-pale skin, and long fingers holding on to a handkerchief with a slight tremor.  

You were terrified to even think of the face you did at that moment, but Gojo's elbow brushing yours and his silent cough told you that your eyes may or may not have changed into two small hearts, beating furiously at the sight of the pathetic God standing right in front.

Gojo wanted to take black material himself, but Choso's gaze was so strongly fixated on your trembling figure (not with dreadfulness, but a desire you've never felt before!), he quite literally was afraid to break such a precious moment.

So he coughed again and stuck his elbow even harder, before you finally noticed a fair palm extended to you.

"Oh," you muttered, taking a handkerchief and wiping your dirty clothes immediately. "Thank you so much, my Lord."

He shrugged visibly, nodding his head and looking at your plush breasts, soaked in reddish wine and coated in your pink, almost transparent robes.

And you, as a Goddess of so many beautiful and fertile things, were mostly known for one thing – your sexual appeal. Greeks loved to sculpt your body almost naked, rarely dressed, but even if, always in skimpy robes and translucent garments. Some presented you wrapped in a golden girdle, a myth and a gossip going on around the mortal world, of the belt whose wearer could make anyone fall in love with them.

It was funny at first to even think that the most beautiful Goddess needed a mere accessory to seduce her admirers. But the gossip turned out to be so appealing, you decided to create such a belt and give it to Hera, for... well, seducing the highest and mightiest of all, of course.

But you've never used it yourself, keeping it only for your friends and demigods, maybe sometimes water nymphs, who used your accessories to play with mortals and some heroes. It was fun, safe and without any commitment.

But you?

Choso gulped, a droplet of sweat forming around his temple as his eyes couldn't leave your drenched skin, too bare and too soft under flushed material, to have every other God around see you in such an harmless state.

Maybe he was hallucinating or maybe not, but you stood up, slowly, confidently, with breasts almost falling from your already too skimpy robes. Knowing his eyes followed your body, you glanced at him with such a stunning smile and a hint of foxy craftiness in your glimmering gaze, he almost passed out.

Literally, because his knees gave out, and the long scepter was the only thing that saved him from complete humiliation in front of the whole of Olympus.

"I'll clean it and return, my Lord. Maybe you could give me a hint or two regarding navigating the Underworld, hm?" You said so quietly, he may have been the only person who had heard your honeyed voice.

He could swear it was as sweet as your body, which turned out to be definitely too close to his, spreading a fragrance of fresh roses and an ocean breeze, stuck to your flowing hair and velvety skin.

But how could a Goddess like you even think of going down to his grim and mournful domain, filled with nothing but eeariness and cries of descendent souls, left at his mercy. "No, my G-Goddess, you shouldn't–"

"I insist." Your voice was firm and touch even firmer, almost burning his creamy skin, when your fingers brushed his bicep and gripped it lightly.

Only now you've noticed a delicate, black stripe spread on his nose and rosy cheeks, almost hidden under the muted candle's light, but visible enough the moment you closed the distance, suffocating him with your–ah, too close, too close, too close.

"My Goddess, I'm afraid you're too–"

But how could he push you away when his body betrayed him so clearly? Your hand on his bicep, plump breasts almost grazing his dark robes and flushed cheeks raised to meet his furrowed brows, oh so lost in your sweetness and a soft giggle, which already sounded like the most graceful melody.

Saying he was tall would be an overstatement, but stating he was well–built would be a pure untruth – his muscles trembled under your small hand, but you could feel their sturdiness. You caught how tight the dark robe was around his shoulders and the way it perfectly fit his muscular back and veiny forearms, peeking from wide sleeves.

He clenched snowish fingers on a long scepter, looking anywhere just not at you.

And when you touched your wine-wet breasts with his handkerchief, it was over.

He couldn't handle it anymore, so he did what every other wise and powerful God would do in the presence of a lustful and most beautiful woman walking on this Earth – turned on his heels and ran away.

"I'm sorry, my Goddess, I need to–um, I truly need to g-go–"

And he went indeed.

With such a hurry and a shade of delicious apple you've never seen spread on his face before, the only thing you could do was stand still and stare at his broad back slowly going down from Olympus's peak.

"My, my," you've heard a whistle and a second later, Gojo stood next to you, with a face not much different from yours. Flushed, stupefied, maybe a bit more amused. "He really is a lost cause, hm? Maybe calling him miserable was an overstatement. He's the most pathetic God in this Pantheon."

You inhaled heavily, feeling a warmth coiling in your belly, so familiar but at the same time intense, you've tried to remember the last time it felt as pleasant as now.

Hm, never?

"You're wrong," Gojo glanced at you with a raised eyebrow. And his amusement was even higher when he saw this weird look in your eye. Delight? Lust? No, lo– "He's pathetic for me only."

Days were passing by, filled with responsibilities mostly.

You've spent your time on listetning to worshippers – young girls, future mothers, women praying to bestow them with fertility, couples wishing for productive sexual life – and devoted sunny afternoons to bathing in the warm sun dancing on Olympus.

It was your favourite time of the day, so the moment your feet dipped into the crystal water, a blissful shiver ran through your spine, soothing both mind and body with a delicate touch of the waves. Nymphs surrounded you like ducks, dipping their heads in the pool and chirping among themselves like little birdies.

Your open bathhouse sat at the top of Olympus, built encircled by creamy columns, growing tall as trees, scratching cotton clouds with a serene feeling of quietness.

Small stairs led directly to fresh water, warmed by gentle rays of sunlight and glimmering on the velvety skin of playing nymphs.

Your statue stood right next to the open pool, tall and proud, almost naked too, representing which God this place belonged to.

When your body finally dipped fully, and eyes closed in ease, a faint sight escaped your lips. Sun rubbed your skin as you slumped against the pool’s wall and took a deep breath of the air dripping with an ocean breeze.

One of the nymphs slouched next to your naked body, her eyes looking at you with awe and curiosity, before she asked softly. "My Lady, my Lady, wasn’t Lord Hades quite rude to you last time?"

Another one swam closer, peaking at your body like a gem, something so beautiful and precious, no one deserved to touch— no, maybe even look at it. "That’s right, my Lady, doesn’t Lord Hades lack in manners? He’s never gonna find a wife with such a temper!"

You chuckled first, but the second sentence seemed to pique your curiosity. Your eye opened, glancing at a few nymphs floating peacefully around.

Such silly and adorable creatures they were, quite coquettish if they wanted to, and you understood why Gojo seemed to have a soft spot for them.

"And why would he need a wife?" You murmured, a strange feeling coiling in your belly.

One girl hummed, as if wondering, long hair flowing on the water, golden like wheat.

"My Lady, I’ve heard Lord Zeus talking to him about this. It seems like there’s a woman called Persephone and quite interested in Lord Hades she seems to be."

Your lips immediately fell flat in line.

Persephone? Isn’t she just a small sprat living under her mother's wings? What in the world could she want from Hades himself?

"Zeus said that, hm?" You mumbled, but didn’t listen to the rest of what Nymphs had to say.

Wife. Wife. Wife.

Why the hell he needed a wife?

You juggled this question like a mantra, like a woman obsessed, although there was truly nothing to be obsessed with.

That night was still vivid in your mind when Choso left the feast in a hurry – speechless and with ears burning like fire. The picture of his face was stuck in your memory, so lovely and pathetic, haunting you every night till the first sun rays hit your chamber.

You’ve seemed to lose your mind over him, how touch-starved he seemed to be, wanting, needing your attention desperately.

So why couldn’t you feel him anymore?

You wondered.

Why did any trace of his presence suddenly disappear, slip through the corners of your temples, together with pomegranates and shells scattered around your altars?

Why your chamber seemed to be lighter in the night, and what happened to the ragged, shortened breath you swear could hear during the deepest sleep.

Why has he left you?

Why—

A shriek brought your thoughts back, with a crystal water suddenly flowing in streams over the edge of the swimming pool. Nymphs were running away, as if scared – no, terrified, pointing with their fingers at something behind you.

"M-my Lady, look out! There’s a creature!"

A creature?

You turned head slowly, glancing over your shoulder. And suddenly, shock crossed your face, but only for a moment, before you raised an eyebrow in interest.

"Oh?" A hum escaped your lips, bringing your attention entirely to the so-called creature, being nothing more than a black snake.

For your nymphs' justification, some of them were quite… uneducated, you would say. Maybe a bit stupid, never seeing a world outside Olympus. Although snakes belonged to various Gods living on the Mountain, many usually associated them with the earth.

And the underworld.

"What brought you here, my dear? Are you lost?" You cooed, looking at his long body, slowly moving towards you, with yellowish eyes focused on nothing but your small, white dove, sitting calmly near your dipped body.

The snake was big, truly looking quite monstrous, but the dove didn't seem to mind his presence, as if her curiosity was piqued by the creature. Its black skin glimmered under the scorching sun, pinkish tongue sliding in and out of a closed mouth, checking the surroundings.

Nymphs left the pool, still warning you with faint screams and pleadings to leave it alone.

But how could you leave it alone if it was the first sign the God of the Underworld has sent you since that feast?

How could you ignore his weak and unsatisfying presence, sending your way such a creature instead of himself?

You stretched out your hand, brushing its hard skin. The scales were warm under your touch, but the snake completly ignored you, instead grazing with its big head the snowy feathers of the dove. "Where's your master, hm? Did he send you?"

Your birdie glanced at it, for a second only, before she lowered her head and touched the snake's raven skin with her soft feathers.

And then–

Snap!

Dove cried, one of the white feathers falling from her delicate body. You almost saw a furrow between her small eyes and stare shooting daggers at her bully.

She flew up, sitting on your arm, as you lifted your fingers to gently caress her.

"My poor baby," you whispered, as she cooed softly to your ear. "Isn't he just a mean bully? Quite different from his master, hm?"

Her small head pushed against your fingers, starved for your delicate touch, soothing her snowy feathers with slow brushes.

And when you looked at the snake, with a feather in his mouth, he sent you one last glance, before hiding back in the forest.

It seemed like you needed to fulfil your promise and pay the God of the Underworld a visit.

So a few days later, you finally found the only person who could help you get down to Hades's domain.

"Sorry, what?" Hermes looked at you with a furrow, scanning your body covered in pink, flowy robes, full of beauty and charm, definitely not accustomed to and made for a journey to the underworld. "Are you bored? Why in the world would you like to go down there?"

Your lips pressed in a line, hands clasped on your chest, with gold bracelets hugging your bare arms. It was always weird to hear other Gods – men – question your choices, and aside from Gojo who indeed had this privilege solely because of being your friend, it was always quite irritating to see others not giving you what you asked them for.

And if going to the underworld was that easy, you would do it yourself.

But it wasn't.

In fact, only one God was responsible for taking souls to the gates of hell, and it was he – this charming man, but just a dick to be honest, with wings on his feet and a golden helmet sitting tight on his raven hair.

Toji.

Your once-lover and Gojo's nemesis.

"Lord Hades invited me over," you said, but the only reaction you've got was a soft scoff.

"I doubt it." He murmured, broad back still turned away.

You took a deep breath, placing fingers on your temple. "Okay, what do you want in exchange?"

"Nothing." He stood back to you, focused on repairing something in his winged sandals, ignoring your boiling figure completly.

You really hoped that this pink dress, hugging your hips gently, with skin smelling like rose oil and a golden necklace sitting calmly right on your plump breasts, would convince him to grant you a pass.

You blinked.

"Nothing?" you repeated slowly, not quite believing your ears.

Toji finally turned to face you. The movement was lazy, unhurried, like a lion stretching only because it felt like it. Sunlight caught on the metal of his winged sandals, and the golden helmet resting carelessly on his head tilted as he studied you with dark, amused eyes.

“Did I stutter, doll?”

Your eye twitched.

Men like him were always like this – acting as if they were above bargains, above temptation, above you. As if the Goddess of Love herself standing in front of them asking for help was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

"I don’t believe you," you said flatly.

He smirked. "Smart."

Crossing his arms over his broad chest, he leaned against the marble pillar behind him, muscles shifting beneath his tunic. Even relaxed, he looked built for war – dangerous in a way that made other gods nervous and foolish mortals worshipful. He was cunning, smart, a God of Travellers and thieves, mostly, somehow having responsibility over guiding poor souls to the underworld.

You had fun back in the days, but he, like any other God, was too overpowering. Too pushy, brutal, with his fast and heavy thrusts, indeed giving you pleasure, but never satisfying some deep need coiling in your belly. He wouldn't drop down to his knees. Worship you like a Goddess, a pathetic man eager to lose his Godly status just to have you exclusively.

"You don’t want gold," you continued, ticking possibilities off in your mind. "You don’t care for favors. You’ve never been one for politics. So what is it, Toji? What do you want?"

For a moment he only watched you, gaze dragging slowly over your face as if he were trying to decide something.

Then he laughed.

Low. Rough. Infuriatingly confident.

"What I want," he said, stepping closer, "is to see something interesting."

Your brows knitted together. "Interesting?"

"Yeah." He shrugged. "You, of all people, marching into the Underworld for the brooding King of the Dead? That’s entertainment money can’t buy."

So that was it.

Curiosity.

Amusement.

Typical Hermes.

"You’re unbelievable," you muttered.

"So I’ve been told." His grin widened. "Alright, doll. I’ll take you."

Relief loosened the knot in your chest, though you hid it well to not give him satisfaction.

"But," he added, holding up a finger, "you follow my lead. No wandering off. No charming the shades. And absolutely no crying if you get scared."

"I don’t get scared," you said coolly.

"We’ll see."

Without another word, he extended a hand to you. Rough, warm, steady.

Hesitating only a second, you placed your fingers in his.

The world shifted.

Air folded in on itself. The brightness of Olympus faded like a curtain being drawn, colors draining away into something colder, heavier. The scent of flowers and honey dissolved into ash and stone.

When your feet touched solid ground again, it wasn’t marble beneath you.

It was black sand.

The sky above was no longer sky at all – just a vast, endless ceiling of shadow. Rivers of dark water cut through the land like veins, and distant wails echoed from places you couldn’t see.

Toji released your hand.

"Welcome to the Underworld," he said casually, as if he’d just shown you a new café instead of the realm of the dead.

You barely heard him.

Because ahead of you, towering higher than any palace of Olympus, stood the gates.

Massive iron doors carved with ancient symbols, wrapped in chains that seemed to breathe, guarded by looming statues with hollow eyes. Beyond them stretched a kingdom of eternal night.

Hades’s domain.

Your heart fluttered in your chest.

"So," Toji drawled beside you, watching your expression with open amusement, "still sure about this?"

You lifted your chin.

"Open the gates."

The underworld turned out to be... quiet.

The shriek of massive gates filled the stifled air, but when you entered through, there was nothing once again.

No, maybe there was.

Soft whispers coming from the long river stretching in front of you, with a small, wooden pier lightened by a single candle. Its flame whizzed in the darkness, inviting you as if offering a bit of warmth.

Black sand sank beneath your sandals, your pink dress grazing the ground as you followed Toji’s broad, confident back toward the pier.

"My company ends here," he stated, walking slowly. "But Charon will take you straight to Hades’s temple."

You frowned slightly, glancing around the boundless land. No sun. No moon. Only endless twilight, air shifting between cold and warmth, sticky and hollow, sending uneasy shivers down your spine.

"He’ll be there. Don’t worry," Toji added, noticing the tension in your shoulders. “You’ll be fine.”

You noticed shades hovering nearby – dim, almost transparent figures gliding aimlessly, faces pale and empty, hands reaching out as though searching for something they had long forgotten. "Who are they?"

"Dead who weren’t buried with coins," Toji replied, casually swatting away one shade that drifted too close to you with cupped, pleading hands. "Charon can’t take them across the Styx without payment."

"And what happens to them?"

Your feet touched the wooden pier. The boat was already waiting – long and narrow, with a single lamp hanging from its curved prow. A small figure sat at the back, cloaked in black, nothing visible but pale, bony hands protruding from wide sleeves, one extended expectantly, the other gripping a worn paddle.

"They wander," Toji said with a shrug, snapping his fingers towards the boatman. "Hey, grandpa, she's a Goddess, no need for payment. Take her right to Hades. She's a guest."

Charon slowly withdrew his outstretched hand and placed it back on the paddle, waiting in silent invitation.

You inhaled slowly, gathering the folds of your dress, and stepped into the boat.

The wood creaked beneath your weight, and the small vessel rocked gently as Charon pushed away from the pier with a single, practiced motion. The candlelight swayed, throwing trembling reflections across the dark water.

Toji remained on the shore, arms crossed.

"Try not to die down there," he called after you with a lazy grin.

"I’m a Goddess," you glanced back, lifting your chin. "I can't die."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, already turning away. "Tell that Sisyphus."

You wanted to snap back that he, in fact, wasn't a God, but the boat already moved, sliding over the dark waters of the Styx with gentle waves woven by a wooden paddle.

The River Styx stretched endlessly in both directions, black as polished obsidian, its surface smooth and unmoving. No wind touched it. No ripple dared disturb it. The only sound was the slow dip of Charon’s paddle cutting through the water.

Around you, shades hovered in the mist, faint faces pressed together like memories too worn to remember themselves. Some reached toward the boat with hollow eyes, others merely watched, envy etched into their pale, fading forms.

You wrapped your arms around yourself.

For the first time in centuries, you felt small.

“Don’t listen to them,” Toji had warned before you left.

But how could you not?

One shade drifted close to the boat, its hollow eyes meeting yours, and for a heartbeat, you felt a wave of sorrow so deep it nearly stole your breath.

You looked away quickly.

The further you travelled, the heavier the air became, until at last the boat scraped softly against another shore.

And there it was.

The entrance to the Underworld.

You looked over your shoulder at Charon, wishing to hear his voice, but he only stretched his skeletal hand, pointing at something.

You left the boat, feet once again touching soft, black sand.

The closer you got to Hades's temple, the warmer it became, with a gentle wind moving folds of your dress. As Toji said, it wasn't a place for you.

Dark, isolated, gloomy, hugging your shivering body covered in the sweetest, most beautiful shimmering gown worn only on the sunny land of Olympus.

But here? You looked truly like a clown, with gold jewellery looking almost bleak under the darkness looming over your figure.

Another gate appeared in front of you, once again massive in its heaviness, but this time with no chain in sight.

Actually, it looked as if... slightly opened?

Impossible.

You moved closer, step by step, white sandals sinking in sand, black grains moving between your soft fingers. The gate was right there, so close, with a mere few steps and–

Your body froze.

Because there, from the darkness emerged a creature so massive it seemed carved from nightmares themselves.

Enormous, monstrous even, with three heads moving towards you, teeth wet with saliva and eyes burning like coal.

A guard of the underworld, you've heard.

Hades's pet.

But you didn't see any assembly to a pet, rather a monster talked about only in tales, one usually killed bravely by heroes or spreading annihilation over mortals.

Your heart skipped.

"Oh," you breathed. "You must be the Cerberus."

The beast stepped closer, paws heavier than thunder, breath warm and smoky against your skin. Each head watched you with suspicion, nostrils flaring at your unfamiliar scent.

You straightened your shoulders.

"I am Aphrodite," you said softly, holding out a hand. "Goddess of Love and Beauty. I mean no harm."

For a tense moment, nothing happened.

But then, one of the massive heads tilted. In curiosity, playfulness, maybe, with this glint in his eye, you knew animals had every time they saw you.

Another gave a curious sniff, as if your rosy oil scratched his nostrils in pleasure.

The third promptly leaned forward, and before you could fully process it, a rough, warm tongue dragged across your cheek.

"Oh–!" You gasped, stumbling back in surprise.

The second head followed, then the third, each nuzzling you with embarrassing enthusiasm. The fear melted instantly, replaced by startled laughter.

The great hound wagged its monstrous tail, the ground trembling with each happy thump.

"Well, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. You're just like your Master." Faint giggle bubbled in your throat, fingers scratching one of the enormous heads under its chin, the other one behind its ear, while the third licked your skin once again, leaving you with another gasp and its saliva dripping down your robe.

"Such good puppies, aren't you? Can you take me to your Master? We have stuff to discuss."

Cerberus escorted you the rest of the way, walking proudly at your side as if you were already expected.

And beyond the heavy gate and rocky path, rising higher than any structure you had ever seen, stood the temple of Hades. Stone steps rose upward toward a structure carved into the cliffs themselves – dark marble pillars wrapped in shadow, torches burning with pale fire.

Cold.

Majestic.

Eternal.

Your breath caught in your throat.

"So this is where he lives," you whispered, feeling Cerberus' nose pushing you towards the temple. "Yes, yes, thank you, my dear. Such a good dog you are. The best, maybe."

You gave him one last scratch before going towards Hades's domain.

Did he expect you? You thought.

Will he be surprised?

Did Toji tell him you're here?

But if he did, wouldn't the God of the Underworld wait for you already?

And as you stepped closer to the looming entrance, licked by the cold fire of the hanging lanterns, something in your gut told you that he, in fact, didn't know that you were here.

And when you entered, looking around the cold stones, your heart suddenly skipped a beat.

You expected the inside to be quite cold, sheathed in gloom, a feeling of sadness, weird eariness that would send a chill through your bones. No one actually knew what Hades lived like. No one ever cared. And it seemed like he didn't care too – about making an appearance, trying to change the way people see him, particularly about other Gods.

But, oh, how wrong you were.

Because on the tall walls and high ceilings, an altar quietly put in the middle and columns wrapped in paintings – was you.

You, bathing in a pool, painted with a steady hand on one of the walls.

Your body wrapped around the column, one of the flowy dresses slipped on it casually, hair fluttering in the wind, and a smile spread on plump lips.

The sculpture of your body, naked, but covered with a transparent robe, presenting only a part of your full breasts and hips, ending just in the middle of thick thighs, standing just in the middle of the entrance. It looked dampened, with the robe sticking to your skin, barely covering perked nipples and fat gathering around your hips.

Your gaze moved to the altar.

Shells scattered around its flat surface, together with roses, apples, seeds of pomegranate, a white feather, a piece of your– wait a minute-

"M-my Goddess?"

A low voice brought your thoughts back.

Choso suddenly emerged from one of the chambers, his tall figure covered in black robes and face – oh, his face – twisted in emotion closest to pure agony. He looked at you with furrowed brows, biting lower lip and deciding whether he should come to you or, maybe, once again, run away.

"My Goddess, what are you doing here?" He asked, staying in place.

You glanced last time at the piece of clothing lying on the altar and grinned. It was weird to see it here, from all places, but something coiling in your lower belly told you that perhaps it was the only reasonable place to see your undergarments stolen a while ago.

"I promised to give it back," a black handkerchief appeared in your hand, clean and fresh, smelling exactly like your favourite body oil. "Last time you ran away so quickly, my Lord, we didn't have a chance to properly talk."

His throat moved and eyes followed you nervously as you slowly walked towards him.

You didn't fit here, he thought, to this disgusting place.

Because he had seen beauty before.

Choso was old as bone and shadow, older than kingdoms, older than grief. He had watched empires crumble into dust and souls pass through his gates like autumn leaves. Nothing startled him anymore. Nothing truly moved him.

But then, oh, then he saw you.

Aphrodite.

A name whispered among Gods and mortals, and yet no story, no hymn, no jealous prayer had ever done you justice.

He watched you approach with a steady pace, swaying hips, and long robes dragged behind your feet. His mouth was dry, heart beating too fast, pale skin sweating with dread, nervousness, terror. Because every time he saw you, smelled your skin damped in the sweetness of flowery oils, heard a laugh always caused by Gojo or another God he absolutely despised – his body was in flames.

Your gown flowed like liquid dawn – soft folds of pink and gold clinging to a body sculpted by the heavens themselves. Each step you took was unhurried, graceful, unaware of the havoc it caused in his heart.

Your hair caught the dim torchlight and turned it into silk. Skin held a glow that did not belong to this realm, smooth and untouched, as if the moment he would sink his teeth into the curve of your ass, pure ambrosia would drip down his chin.

And your face–

Gods had waged wars over less.

There was something unbearably gentle in your expression, something kind, a beauty truly worthy of the Goddess of Love. And the smirk on your lips, a cunning smile, words slipping so casually, constantly with a drop of lewdness as if you knew the effect you had on him.

Choso knew it was over for him.

He had always wondered, distantly, what it would feel like to have your hand in his. To feel that warmth against his eternally cold skin. To have you say his name the way only lovers did, low and familiar, as if he was something precious instead of something feared by Gods and mortals.

His fist clenched, when you walked closer – body mere centimetres from his, breast almost touching his burning skin, and he prayed, truly prayed, for your gaze not to go down any further, because he couldn't stand your lustrous eyes on his cock leaking through black robes.

"My Lord, won't you invite me to a cup of wine, at least?" You asked carefully, quietly, noticing his dark eyes running around your face. His hand trembled, and throat cleared when he showed you a way inside the temple.

To his inner chambers, you guessed.

You walked past him, fingers slightly brushing the bulging part of his robes, and he, well, he almost fell down to his knees in an utterly embarrassing and completly failed position he found himself at.

The inside of the temple was cosier than you thought it would be, with the next room filled with warmth and red carpets, candles fighting the darkness with their reddish tongues. There was a long table too and a balcony, with a view of – oh.

"That is Tartatus, my Goddess," Choso said, when he saw your shocked gaze looking down at the deep abyss filled with faint moans and shrieks, as if souls were cooked alive there, tortured in the most terrifying ways. A dungeon for the most wicked ones, true monsters and creatures that should never see daylight. "I don't use it unless I have to. Some of them deserve to be there."

A hint of nervousness still lingered in his voice when he stood behind you. Heat radiated from his body as he stood close enough to cage you with his muscular forearms. How lovely it would be!

You moved your head away from the painful screams, turning your body back towards him.

Gentle eyes looked at you from under the purplish circles, black stripes moving together with his knitted eyebrows and tightened lips.

"Aren't you lonely here? It doesn't seem like the happiest place in the world," you asked with actual curiosity, but he frowned even harder, as if thinking about the proper answer.

Some servant in the back put two glasses of wine on the table and melted away in the darkness of the temple.

"I never had a choice," Choso finally whispered, inviting you with a gesture back to the room. He moved away a chair and let you sit first, before taking a seat right next to you. "That's how I was raised and born. That's the only place I know."

You watched him carefully as he spoke.

There was something painfully honest in his voice, something raw and unpolished, as if no one had ever truly asked him such a simple question before.

You lifted a glass to your lips, taking a sip of red wine, melting sweetly on your tongue.

“So no visitors?” you asked lightly. “No celebrations? No festivals in your honour? Is there truly no one who worships the God of the Underworld? There must be some benefits to it.”

He huffed softly at that, something almost like embarrassment flickering across his face.

“The dead do not celebrate,” he replied. “And the living fear me too much to bother.”

“Yet you welcomed me,” you pointed out.

At that, his fingers tightened slightly around his own glass. Face slightly flushed, red like a cherry, with its juice going through his cheeks up to hair-covered ears.

"B-but you're not like them," he mumbled so quietly, you needed to use all of your might to hear those words.

Not like them.

Your head tilted, letting a small smile play at the corner of your mouth.

“And how am I different, my Lord?" you asked, voice gentle and confident, nevertheless pinning him down to his seat in nervousness. "Oh, and the paintings at the entrance? Truly wonderful! I've never thought I'll have devotees among the Gods."

For a moment, he didn’t answer.

Dark eyes traced your face again, as if committing every detail to memory. The plumpness of your lips. The shine of your skin. The soft rise and fall of your chest with each breath. This rosy dress, too tight and too transparent, allowing him to see the curve of your breast and the pinkish aureola of your soft nipples.

He gulped.

"I-if you're bothered by them–"

"I'm not. I love them, truly," Choso shifted in his place, when you slightly loosened on your chair, legs spread a bit wider than they were, fiery gaze stuck at him. "But the altar, dear Lord. How did you even get such stuff? The feather, I believe, is a treasure captured by one of your small servants, although he indeed was a bit brutal with my birdie," His face was burning, air almost knocked out from lungs in embarrassment and desire he felt under your heavy gaze, with his eyes focused on your parted thighs, hugged by a robe, opened for him as if in invitation. "Though the undergarment? Aren't you–" But before you could finish, he dropped down to his knees, head heavy on your thighs, muscular arms wrapped around your legs as you felt something hard and leaking under your foot. "Just a pervert?"

"M-my Goddes, I'm so s-sorry," he murmured, looking at you from below, with dark eyes filled with pathetic pleading, beefy arms tightening their embrace around your legs as he rubbed his cheek against your warm thigh. "I am, I am a pervert, I-I am nothing more than a pervert, j-just please let me–"

Your hand gently caressed his cheek as he nuzzled into it with a heavy breath.

Dear God, he was truly perfect, with those trembling lips and eyes gazing at you so lovingly, so desperately, something warm coiled in your belly.

His hands touched your ankles, slowly, slowly, going up, catching the hem of your dress, rolling it up to your knees, while he still looked at you with begging eyes.

"Let you do what?" you hummed, foot pushing against his throbbing dick with gentleness, "What are you willing to do to have me, my Lord?"

His fingers clenched on your skin before pulling the dress up to the middle of your slick thighs with one swift motion. "Whatever you want, my Goddess. Just ask me, p-please just ask me. I'll give you sun and moon if you'll ask me to."

He put your legs on his shoulders, hands roaming on your bare skin, feeling the heat radiating from your core, bare but not quite visible for his hungry, despairing eye.

Your head tilted, fingers combing his hair. "Anything? Would you die for me, my Lord?"

"Yes."

No hesitation.

"Would you degrade yourself as a God, my Lord?"

"Yes."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Would you kill your brothers, my Lord?"

You knew this one was completly inappropriate, something others could kill you for, but–

"Yes."

And you didn't have time to react, before Choso spread your thighs even wider and took a looong lick of your creamy pussy. Your breath hitched, he moaned, a grumble going straight to your pulsing core, fingers squeezing his hair stronger.

"My Lord!"

But he was completly lost, with his mouth drenched in your leaking pussy, tasting, as he anticipated, like the purest form of ambrosia, the plum wine going sweetly down his throat until he moaned, no, cried right into your spread folds.

You involuntarily bucked your hips towards his open lips as he sucked on your clit.

"S-so good, my Goddess, s-so mmm–"

But the hard chair was brushing your velvety skin, and a quiet groan escaped your throat when he folded you even harder.

"My Lord, please let's move to–"

You didn't have to say it twice, before he slumped you over his shoulder, like a sack of grain, with bare ass and leaking cunt, kept in place by his beefy arm.

"Call me Choso, my Goddess," he mumbled, not able to keep his lips from your skin, kissing, biting, licking the bare curve of your ass, fingers slightly parting your pussylips as he drenched them in your juices.

And although you couldn't see him, a moment later, you heard him licking something, moaning so loudly you felt another wave of warmth flowing in your belly.

Your back hit a soft surface, and soon you found yourself spread on a bed. Lightless sky peeked through the windows, faint flames kissing Choso's fully dressed body, panting heavily as he looked down at your glistening folds. A second later, his black robe landed on the floor, with absolutely nothing on his tall body aside from heavy mountains of muscles, with muscular thighs dropping down to plush carpet and toned arms again parting your legs.

"M-my Goddess, can I?" He glanced at you pleadingly, looking like a child ready to cry if his mama won't give him his favourite sweet.

You bit lower lip, eyes sparkling with excitement at seeing him in such a hopeless state.

"Only if you'll eat me out like a good boy, Cho. Can you do it?"

Oh! And if it didn't fire him up, with a frown on his handsome face, nodding quickly, obediently, truly like a small puppy. Just maybe ten times bigger and much heavier than you, with enough strength to pin you down against his bed and fuck you senseless like an animal.

You've kept your weight on your elbows, seeing Choso going down once again, giving you a looong drag of his tongue against your glistering folds, as he parted them with his two fingers. His hot breath on your clit, as he sucked on it gently, needily, moaning and crying every time a fresh batch of creamy cum went down his throat. When your walls clenched around his tongue, rummaging inside you, and a sharp breath escaped your throat.

His hands roamed around your ass, hips, pulling you even closer, before going up up up to your breasts. Oh, Goddess of Love and Fertility, you truly were, because the thought of milk dripping from your pinkish nipples, of him sucking your tits and pushing his cock deep down your cunt at the same time made him almost cum on the spot.

He thought about whether you would allow him to cum inside.

Whether you would want his babies, to walk heavily pregnant and let him worship you day and night, by keeping your pussy always warm and pleased.

Would you–

"Yes yes yes, to all of them," you moaned with head lulled back and eyes crossed, as Choso, accidentally or not, murmured all his wishes riiiiight into your pussy, squeezing around his two fingers. "You better keep your promise and fuck me pregnant then."

He licked your pussy unhingeldy, like a starved dog, with a frown between his brows and black stripes moving every time the tip of his tongue dragged down your puffy clit, slick folds, not allowing even a single drop of your honey slick dto rip down the sheets.

His face was so beautiful and truly Godly, with pale skin drenched with your juices and contrasting red lips wrapped around your sweet bud. You looked down on him, mouth parted and breath heavy, as he pressed you closer to his open lips and stuck out tongue. "M-my Goddess, I-I promise–ngh–your pussy tastes so delicious, I can't stop ahhh–p-please tell me it feels good."

A giggle escaped your throat, but was soon strangled by a moan, when his fingers curled riiiight into that spongy spot, sending shivers down till your cervix, making your belly clench and head throw back. And seeing your reaction, he curled them again and again again again, pairing it with his tongue licking your soaked pussy and lips sucking on sweet bud, pushing his face even deeper into your folds, almost wishing to get inhaled by them.

"Mhmmm so good Cho, you're eating me s-so fucking good ahhh–"

But gone he was, eyes closed in pleasure, lips puffy, and head nodding faintly when you moved your hips and rubbed them against his tongue.

"S-so good, mhmm feels so good, this pussy," he mumbled, not quite sure whether to you or your cunt, gasping and wailing with a mouth full of your sweet juice. "Feels so mhm so good, m-my Goddess, my baby mhm, so pretty pretty–"

A pressure coiled in your belly – feeling, that with another thrust of his fingers and looong stripe of his tongue against your cunt, you will completly, pathetically break under his muscular arms pinning you down to bed.

"Choso, I'm gonna–" You gasped, fingers clasping his hair, to take him away from your pussy just for a second. "I wanna cum on your cock."

He looked up. Gaze lost, hair messy, chin drenched, a pearl of sweat running down his pale temple.

"Don't underestimate me. I'll make you cum on both my tongue and cock," His fingers stretched every corner of your cunt, thrusting against the tight muscles, drawing even more of your sweet juices from your tight hole as you moaned at the pressure building in your stomach. "What, my Goddess, your lovers never made you cum twice?"

You shook your head, gaze blurred by the heavy feeling in your belly. Choso smiled, curling his fingers against your sweet spot brutally, sucking on your clit with the lovliest cries, looking sooo satisfied and confident, with this precious knowledge of having the honour to make his Goddess go stupid on both his face and his dick.

"Even Gojo?" He continued, looking completly drunk on your slick juices, nevertheless still making sure that he indeed would be your best, the first, the only lover that will ever make you cum countless times, till your clit is sore and womb plump from his seed.

"I never had a good lover," you mewled, feeling him groan against your cunt.

"Mhmm, m-my Goddess allow me to–"

And you indeed allowed him, because not a second later, your back rose in an arch, fingers curled and thighs clenched on his head, cutting off his air supply for a few seconds, with your body trembling under his toned arms, keeping you pinned to bed.

You weren't quite sure who had an orgasm, because while a heavy whine ripped from your throat, and a shock waved through your body, Choso seemed to go through his own pleasure, crying, whining, moaning, muttering under his nose, hiccuping on your gushing slick – completly, utterly lost in the taste of your pussy.

Pretty pretty pretty pussy.

Seconds later, your positions changed, with you straddling his hips and his back slumped against soft pillows. Two hands landed on your ass, pushing it against his throbbing cock, sticking so obediently to his lower abs, with precum dripping down his shaft and smeared all over his happy trail. With hips on top, your folds hugged in wetly, last traces of creamy cum gushing over his aching shaft, with head so reddish you thought no one ever needed you that desperately.

"My Goddess, r-ride me, please?" And for a God of Underworld himself, one of the most powerful creatures in the whole Pantheon, Choso truly couldn’t stand giving you orders.

It was always please and would you, and I’m sorry, with this absurdly massive body and his eyes filled with so much gentleness, you instantly felt your cunt twitch once again.

"Oh, where did you see that position, Cho?" A smile danced in the corners of your eyes, and your hips moved slightly with your warm folds sliding up and down his cock.

It’s veiny shaft, looking so deliciously wet, fat around your pussylips and so so so pretty, you moaned faintly and put palms on Choso’s chest.

This question seemed to strike him dumb, because you saw the answer bubbling somewhere in his throat, too extreme to see the dawn.

"Tell me, baby, where have you seen it? Aren’t you a virgin, after all?" Your syrupy voice and wet pussy, fluttering hole slightly catching on the head of his cock made him whine and shudder under your weight.

He nodded, clenching his palms on your hips. "I-I am, I s-stayed for you."

For you.

And with these words, you slid his cock inside you a bit, truly barely, with the feverish tip hugged warmly by your pinkish walls. But you didn’t go further, waiting for his filthy confession.

"Such a good boy you are, right? I’ve never met better," you leaned over, lips mere millimetres from his, caressing them gently in a soft kiss. Your tongue slipped and licked his lower lip, trembling with mere inches of his cock sank inside you. "So tell me now, where did you see it?"

There was something pervy within him. Great Lord Hades, fearsome Choso, a dreadful figure living in darkness, always there but never caught by anyone. Everyone thought of him as a ghost, a demon almost, so powerful in his might yet somehow always unreachable.

But you knew.

You saw it, felt it, his presence, your disappearing panties, the rosy smell on his neck, this look when his eyes traced your body, smooth skin, a giggle escaping your lips, and single glances shot towards him, enough to give him false hope and obsess over you within the dark chambers of his temple.

A drop of sweat rolled down his forehead; his voice clearly dipped in utter embarrassment and yearning. "I-I saw you with Gojo."

You raised a brow, lips curved in an o, when you tried to remember the last time you and Gojo had sex.

Dear God, wasn't it like–

"Two years ago, you mean?"

He nodded his head, biting lower lip. Cock still only catching on your entrance, and as much as he wished to sink deep into your soaking cunt, with insanity hanging by a thread, he squeezed fingers on your hips and took a deep breath.

"Y-you rode him them, I-I saw it–"

"What do you mean, saw it?"

Oh, you loved it.

Loved loved loved it.

This blush spreading over his cheeks, a pathetic gaze he bestowed you, paired together with soft whimpers every time you squeezed slightly around his aching head, precum drenching your walls in salty droplets.

"I watched you f-from the c-corner of your chamber," admitting his perversity was a true nightmare, but you couldn't stop this pleasure coiling in your belly.

"You watched me, baby?" You sank lower, just a bit, giving him a prize for being such a good and obedient boy. "Did you touch yourself too? Hm? My cunt riding Gojo's cock excited you that much?"

His head nodded again, fast, a whimper escaping his throat when his huge cock went deeper inside your fluttering walls. The stretch was delicious, absolutely devastating, with a soft moan escaping your lips right into his parted lips.

"M-my Goddess, p-please can you move? Just a b-bit, please, please," He gasped, restraining the urge to buck his hips and push his cock into your drenched pussy till his pumping head will hit your cervix.

"How many times have you watched me?" Your questions were coming one by one, next more difficult than the other, giving Choso almost a cardiac arrest, with his heart beating so fast and his eyes almost glossy, he could not stand another embarrassing answer.

"E-every time, my Goddess, please–"

"Every time?" The last time you satisfied yourself was just after the feast. Did it mean that...?

Tears prickled in the corners of his eyes, lips wobbly when you finally, finally, sat on him with your full weight, heavy cock deep inside your cunt. You deflected, back arched, hands resting on his thighs, legs parted, allowing him to watch a creamy ring forming at the base of his cock.

"S-so good, dear Goddess, oh it feels so fucking good, y-your pussy–" He cried, whimpered, hips finally bucking up to meet yours, cock thrusting deep inside you, squeezed, kissed by your muscles and cervix, sucked every time he tried to pull out.

His eyes met yours – cunning, glistering, with this lovable hint of gentleness and desire he never ever saw with your previous lovers. And he observed you every time another God fucked your tight cunt.

Every time with your panties around his leaking cock, every time noticing what brought you the most pleasure.

So that's how he knew that if he put his hand on your lower belly, bulging with his fat cock, and pushed it slightly, your pussy would clutch him ever harder.

He knew that if his thumb would circle your sweet clit, a sharp whine would bubble in your throat, and your eyes would cross in pleasure.

So he watched your face twist in delight, hips riding him even faster, stronger, wilder, with tits moving together with your sharp back-and-forth moves. He sat up and leaned over to suck your perked nipple, cupping another one with his big palm.

Oh, how he wanted to taste the sweetness of your milk, feeling the heaviness of your breast sitting tightly in his palm, so soft and squishy, he whimpered heavily with his cock sinking in even more. "M-my Goddness, you're squeezing me so hard, feels so good mhmmm. D-do you feel g-good?"

You nodded your head, sweat dripping down your temple, but not for long, because Chose leaned and licked it from your honeyed skin.

Oh, how fucking delicious you were.

"Let me take over? I-I promise I'll be good," His hands on your hips helped you move, fucking himself back into you harder with every thrust, but it was clear that you were getting tired. "I'll be good, good, so so so good for you my Goddess–"

Although he absolutely loved this view, needing to have it in front of his eyes every morning – your full hips bouncing obscenely on his fat cock, belly bulging with his shaft, reddened lips parted and brows furrowed, with sweat dripping between your heavy tits, fitting his palm just perfectly. He would truly be ready to give over his Godly title to see it every fucking day.

"Mhmm yeah please baby, gonna fuck me with your cock?" Your lost gaze met his, even more miserable. "Mmm Cho baby, you're the best, the best fucking lov–"

You didn't manage to finish your sentence before he changed your position fast. You knew he was strong, with muscular arms and great posture, back filling his black robes and heavy, massive cock sealing your thigh cunt juust in the right way.

But you truly underestimated the power he possessed. And maybe you realised it the moment his hands appeared under your thighs, puuushing them far until your knees were almost around your head, with ass lifted in the air and breath knocked out of your chest.

And he?

He was massive. Obsessed. Lost. Bubbling under his nose, with eyes glued to your open pussy. About how delicious you were, how pretty your cunt was, how he'll breed it until it flows with his cum. He parted your lips with two fingers, whimpering at the sight of you, oh so lonely and needy hole, with saps dripping down the sheets.

Choso needed one thrust only – short, absolutely brutal, stretching a still tight ring of your muscles, absolutely devouring every panted cry that escaped your lips with his wet kisses, mouth covering yours fully, and tongue sinking down your throat.

"Mmm Cho, just like that, yes yes yes." He was swallowing your every moan like a madman, thrusting his cock deep aaall the way down to your cervix, head catching on your spongy spot and hammering it with every push.

"You make me, fuck, m-my Goddess, you turn me into fucking animal," He whimpered right into your mouth, fat tears prickling in the corners of his eyes, dangerously close to sliding down his flushed cheeks every time your cunt clamped down on his drenched cock. "I-I dreamed about this for s-so long."

And you started to feel it – this warmth in your belly, your hitched breath, head spinning, and back slightly arching with Choso's brutal thrust, obscene moans filling his chamber and nothing but squelch squelch squelch of your absolutely soaked folds drenching his fat cock.

"C-cho I'm close, I'm so so so close mhmm p-please!"

Nothing could prepare him for your sweet cumming – cunt clenching hard, creamy rings stuck to his shaft and slick gushing down your thighs. You cried, shuddered, rolled your hips against his, squeezed on his cock so hard, you felt every vein of his throbbing shaft. And he continued to pound you madly, brutally, cock sinking balls deep into your hole, a whimper escaping his throat when he drove his mass on your body even harder.

Folding you in half, preparing for a proper breeding, the thought of fucking the most fertile Goddess made him go insane.

Oh god, oh dear fucking god, how many children could you give him?

How delicious your milk would be when he would fuck your pretty pussy while drinking it riiight from your plump tits?

"M-my Goddess, can I p-please cum–"

"You better not spill any drop." Your voice was raspy but still possessed this domination that made him cream his pants on the spot.

So with another thrust, he completly crushed, body shuddering, thrusts not stopping until his tip pressed fully against your womb, filling you with loads and loads, oh god he really was a perv and a virgin, of cum, until it stuck gluey to your walls.

And with a heavy breath, he finally plopped down, embracing you with both arms and placing a cheek on your breast.

The silence filled his chamber, with sky still showing no traces of sun, only the nighttime quietness and, oh, were those crickets singing outside his temple?

"They're also dying, you know?" He whispered, as if reading your mind.

A laugh escaped your throat as you combed your fingers through his hair. "So you decided to put them in your garden?"

He chuckled too, dark eyes closed as if preparing for deep slumber. "I hoped you'd like it. To have something... alive, more familiar here."

Your heart squeezed faintly at the thought of God of the Dead himself wanting to make you comfortable in his always gloomy, always eerie domain.

And maybe you didn't much enjoy the shrieks coming from Tartarus and all the lost souls wandering around his territory, you truly thought that with more aliveness here, you could make it work.

That's why no God or nymph could ever imagine, that during the next feast, Hades himself, a God feared by them all, will sit obediently, flushed on red wine, with a such a beauty on his lap – Aphrodite herself, chippering something sweetly to his ear and may or may not moving her hips in circles on his, oh sooo tight robe!

Going back to Egypt, Seth! Sukuna next <3

the professor was droning on about something to do with economic hierarchies, but all satoru could think about was your mouth and whether or not that was your real lip color or something expensive from sephora.

suguru’s mind wasn’t much better, he’d already saved the photo to his camera roll.

you were the shit, and not in a try hard way.

you were just it.

2000's pink fever dream is the kind of vibes you gave off. wearing whatever shoes were hot that week and some low rise jeans that hugged you snug, you flowed through the quad in tops that looked straight from a britney spears music video.

you were always laughing and draped in people who looked just as cool but still somehow dimmer than you.

there were whispers every time you passed, who you were dating now, what party you were at last night, which guy was crying after you’d ghosted him.

you were a story literally everyone wanted to tell.

but satoru and suguru didn’t just want to tell it, oh no. they wanted to live inside of it, in more ways than one...

no one looked at them. not as much as you, anyways. to put it lightly, no one looked at them in a way that was... appreciative.

sure, they were hot, that much was obvious.

satoru was tall with ridiculously good bone structure and an unfairly handsome face, he was the kind of guy you'd make eye contact with but instead of getting giddy, it makes your stomach drop like, "is he staring at me or am i just being weird and looking at him creepily...".

suguru definitely had an allure. he was pierced all over his face but not in a trashy way, dressed head to toe in black and always looking like he’d just rolled out of bed, yet still somehow better looking than everyone else.

so yeah, they're were hot. but they were weird.

they jointly have over 4000 hours on terraria. they watch stupid anime's all day and talk about different concepts and theories for hours after, and they play pokemon go and digimon all day unironically.

real nerd shit.

it was a known fact that the two could find a certain interest and obsess over it for the next bajillion years. so, when it came to you? it was safe to say they noticed quite literally everything.

like how you always posted around 11:30am like clockwork, probably right after class.

like how you changed your highlights every other week to match your current aesthetic, “🍸” was suguru’s favorite, that one had a photo of you in a tiny yellow bikini licking salt off your wrist.

like how your phone case had changed, a clear one with a blurry photo tucked into the back. satoru had spent ten minutes trying to enhance it in his camera app. it was some girl, maybe a friend? maybe someone you'd kissed.... yuck. either way, it ruined his entire afternoon.

“remember that video she posted last month?” satoru said dreamily, might as well of been thinking about a dead lover. “the one with her in the pool?”

suguru shakes his head. “don’t,” he sighs.

“she was doing that thing with her eyes, remember? like, eye fucking the camera? and she had that little chain around her waist, oh my god—"

“i said stop,” suguru snapped, though he was smiling. “i had to excuse myself from psych after that one. couldn’t stand up for ten fucking minutes.”

satoru swiped through your profile, it was as if every new photo was a different flavor of devastation.

you and your friends in the back of some expensive car. you holding a cocktail and laughing with your head thrown back. you bent over in a mini skirt, taking a mirror selfie with a little ass showing.

was this gross? definitely. did they care? a littleeee, but it wasn't like you'd give two weirdos the time of day anyway, so it didn't matter! that was their logic, anyway.

“i bet she moans pretty,” he said absently. suguru smiled and nodded. “oh, absolutely.”

satoru let out a huff. “jeez, i’d buy her a car just for saying my name.” and saying that wasn’t even absurd, the two of the boys were filthy rich.

“she always smells good, too.” satoru adds. “like… like a sexy scent. i don’t even know what it is. something grown.”

suguru huffed a laugh. “you sound so psychotic.”

“you smelled it too, though. that one time in the elevator. when she came in with maki and was on the phone with sukuna? she pressed the button and i literally blacked out, never been that close to her before.”

“right, and she had those jeans on, the real low ones.” satoru clutched his chest. “fuck. she’s so hot.”

they lapsed into silence again, both of them stewing in their own separate daydreams.

it wasn’t just that you were hot, everyone was hot in college. but you were something else, your own category.

suguru reached for satoru’s phone and swiped through your tagged photos now, which were even more the reminder that you were way out of their social circle.

there were many candid flashes of your life. you in the club with yuki and maki, glitter around your eyes and a bottle in one hand. you curled up on a dorm bed with shoko, half asleep and smiling wide with those pretty lips, your arms tight around ieri's torso. you and choso at a rooftop party, your chin on his shoulder and your fingers looped loosely around his belt.

satoru groaned. “i hate that she’s close with choso.”

“he’s like, her best friend.”

“urgh."

when class ended, the boys stood and made their way out of the room. suguru slung his bag over his shoulder as satoru joked about one thing or other, the two best friends falling into easy conversation.

as they step out into the hallway, however, all conversation stops when they spot you.

you were at the end of the hall posted up against the lockers, even the fluorescent lighting couldn’t make you look bad. if anything, it just made your skin glow warmer, your lip color glossier.

but, like always, you weren’t alone.

he was there, sukuna.

and god, he looked like a big, red, flashing warning sign, like something straight out of a sex and violence movie. he was tall and cut like a knife, his red eyes dark and oh so mean.

“gross,” satoru scoffed, ducking his head.

suguru didn’t add any quips, he just stared with clenched teeth.

sukuna had his hand on your waist, his chrome hearts rings catching in the light as his fingers dug into your flesh.

god, it was so possessive it made them sick, like he was daring anyone to look.

“he doesn’t deserve her,” satoru whispered, too quiet for anyone but suguru to hear.

“mhm, n' he cheats on her, too,” suguru muttered. “everyone knows it. choso was telling me he was touching up some girl at a bar the other week right infront of her.”

they stared at the scene like poor kicked puppies. sukuna was probably murmuring something dirty against your ear, and all you did was smile and hit his chest, acting like you both liked and hated it all at the same time.

satoru’s heart was pounding not with jealousy, or, not just jealousy, but with rage, helpless obsession. it was the possessive ache of wanting to save you from someone who didn’t deserve your attention, like at all, much less your affection.

he wanted to grab you by the shoulders and ask what you were doing, ask what you saw in him when you could have had the world.

when you could have had them.

“he’s not even all that,” satoru says weakly.

“mm, he’s objectively hot,” suguru corrected bitterly.

“okay, but he’s a dick!"

then suddenly, as the boys are bickering over how shit of a boyfriend sukuna was, your gaze sweeps over the crowd for a second. and then it pauses, on them. or maybe just past them? maybe you didn’t see them at all? but your lashes flicked up, and satoru swore your eyes met his.

it was less than a second. a glitch in time. and then you looked away.

“we should go,” suguru said hoarsely.

satoru nodded, dazed. “yeah, yeah. let's go.”

they turned and walked in the other direction with their hearts pounding and their ears ringing, like they’d just survived a brush with a godess and came out utterly unworthy.

you on the other hand? the gaze you'd felt penetrating the side if you head earlier was driving you up the wall.

just for a moment, the faint prickle on the back of your neck, that sixth sense that someone was watching. not in a creepy way, more like a spotlight brushing over your skin. you looked up lazy and bored with your manicured hand still in sukuna’s, and there they were.

satoru and suguru. the weird ones.

the smart ones, the ones who sat in the back row and whispered loudly. they wore dark colors and always looked like they were thinking about something far too complicated to say out loud and share with the rest of the normies.

you knew who they were, obviously. not by name, by vibe. the tall one with the white hair and the other one with the bun and the earrings. they were always together, always some what quiet. always, always, staring.

they were looking at you now, or maybe through you.

you held their eyes for a second too long, or maybe not long enough? your eyes flicked over them like flipping a page, your stomach twisted a little when they blinked like they were too afraid to breathe.

and then you turned away.

“what?” sukuna asked getting all weird and possessive already, his voice low against your temple. “who th' fuck was that?”

“no one,” you said quickly, “just some nerds.”

he grunted and pressed a kiss to your cheek. it was hard and a little too showy for you, but you smiled like you liked it nevertheless.

his hand stayed on your ass the whole walk back to your pretty little dorm. on lookers offered their stares up like children seeing animal mascots on the street. and you liked it when people stared, or, you were supposed to.

that was kind of the whole point, wasn't it? being seen with him. it felt good being the girl everyone wanted yet so out of reach. it meant you were interesting, y'know? you were hot and keepable.

and sukuna was a lot of things, not really good things, but things all the same. sexy, really fucking mean, arrogant, your friends all had different names for it. toxic, thrilling, psychotic, exciting. but he was never boring, so that was a plus?

when you get back to your place, the dorm door smashes shut behind you, and suddenly he was all up on you with his heavy hands grabbing at every inch of your body, his mouth already sliding over your neck like he needed to mark you up.

you tilted your chin up and played along, somewhat. giggling when he pushes you against the wall tighter.

“i missed you,” he said, already pulling at your top. “fuck, you look so hot in this.”

“you saw me this morning,” you said lightly even as your stomach curled tight.

“not enough,” he rasped.

he kissed you hard and messy. sukuna was ever the desperate man when it came to sex, he tugged at your waistband and shoved you toward the bed, and you went.

~

it felt good, in theory...

how he just knew how to fuck you in a way that felt different to anyone else, it wasn't exactly nice, per se, but it was different, that's for sure.

your head always managed to stay up in the clouds during sex with him. way way up in the clouds.

you thought about how his hand always squeezed the fat too hard on your delicate throat. how he never asked beforehand if you were down or how he got really mean when you moaned too loud. how he always acted like he was the one doing something for you.

gross, really.

you finish up after a good half hour and your bodies collapse against the mattress.

sukuna inhales dragging smoke from the now lit cigarette between his fingers, eyes slipping across your body like he’s still hungry, or maybe just checking to make sure you’re still all there.

“you came, right?” he asks dully.

you nod. you didn’t, but he’s not looking at your face so he wouldn't know anyway.

he smirks and pats your thigh as if to say, 'good girl'. his tatted chest stretched as he inhaled deeply, they were sexy, sure, but now they just look like big flashy warnings you'd ignored.

“you’ve been weird lately,” he says curt. you roll onto your side away from him, dragging the sheets higher to hide your naked body.

“i’m tired,” you reply.

“you’re always fucking tired.” he snarls. like it’s your fault for being drained as if he’s not the reason you keep losing sleep.

he gets up. doesn’t bother with a shirt or anything, only paces toward the mirror checking his reflection. you watch him from the corner of your eye as he he adjusts his necklace and wipes his thumb across his mouth.

“i don’t like when you get quiet,” he says.

“i’m not quiet.”

“you were quiet at the party last week. and yesterday when i called, you sounded so off.” he doesn’t ask how you are, shit, he never does. it’s always, what’s wrong with you, never, what happened? he can tell when something’s different, but he doesn’t want to understand. he wants it fixed, he wants you back to normal. back to the chick that kisses his jaw while laughing at his jokes, clinging to his arm at kickbacks like a trophy wife.

“i’m fine,” you say.

you’re not, you've got that dull ache in your chest after he touches you and that knot of disappointment in your stomach when he says your name like some stupid command.

you used to feel chosen and so, so wanted, but now you just feel like a bet he doesn't like all that much.

“you’re not gonna start some shit, are you?” sukuna asks roughly,

“what are you talking about?” 

he turns around with slitted eyes. “you always do this shit. pull away when things are good. look, i know i fucked up last weekend, okay? that bitch came onto me. i didn’t do shit.”

and there it is.

you hadn’t brought it up, hadn’t said a word about the girl at the bar last weekend. she had her hands all over him and he sure as hell wasn't moving, like, at all. so that whole 'she came onto me' thing was obviously bullshit.

you sit up slowly with your shaky arms around your knees. “i didn’t say anything about that,” you whisper gently.

“yeah, well, you’re thinking it. i can see. i know how your brain works.”

and that’s the fucking problem, isn’t it? he doesn’t know how your brain works, hell, he only knows how to manage it, redirect it or drown it out.

he climbs back onto the bed, sitting over you and locking you in with his big, strong arms. “don’t start being weird, babe,” he says with that disgusting persuasion. his hand cups your face and his thumb strokes your cheek. “you’re mine. yeah?”

yuck.

"mhm."

he kisses your forehead sweetly like he’s doing something tender. but your skin feels... rotten, frankly.

as he peppers kisses to your face, reality starts to slowly creep into the cracks of your battered heart. you don’t want this anymore, but you don’t know what else there is.

you're looking up at him but your head is racking through the options. what else is there?

you could date a jock, maybe a business major who's destined for success? perhaps a quiet boy who actually pays attention to you.

with that thought, your mind is thrown into a daze, a nerd daze to be precise.

you think about the look those grade A hotties gave you earlier, the freakishly tall ones in the hallway. you don’t know their names, but you sure as hell remember the way they made you feel with one little glance.

hm.

before you know it, sukuna's throwing on a beater and fixing his hair in your mirror before patting your ass and mumbling a ‘later.’ like you were just another one of his hoes rather than his girlfriend.

there’s a hollow ache in your ribs, the kind you ignore, ignore, ignore, until it piles up behind your lungs, ready rot.

you sit up groggily and the mirror on your vanity catches your —admittedly— terrible reflection. you've got smudged mascara and your lipstick half gone. you look like a girl who’s just been fucked, sure, but not in a good way, kinda like an accidental one night stand kinda way...

why do you keep letting him do this to you?

you sigh and look down at your phone, deciding there was no one better to call right now than your right hand man, choso.

he picks up after two rings. “yo.”

“hey,” you say curling your legs beneath you. “you busy?”

you hear him exiting whatever room he was in then he responds, “nah. what’s up?”

“just…” you hesitate and take a deep breath, the words feet much too heavy. “i feel like shit.”

“ryomen?”

you sigh.

“he’s such a dick,” choso scoffs like he’s already angry for you. “what happened this time?”

“same shit,” you mumble. “he left without even looking at me. he barely touched me. like i was just… just there to get him off.” you despise how much you sound like a frail little girl, but you couldn't help being vulnerable in this moment.

you hear choso inhale like he wants to say something cruel about sukuna, but doesn’t wanna kick you while you’re down.

instead, he suggests, “you should come to this thing m' having tonight. it's at my place, just a few people. yuki’s coming, maybe shoko. i’ll let you smoke some of my shit.”

you press your lips together. “wow, let me? how generous of you." you smile, but it fades almost as quick as it came. "hm. but sukuna’ll be there.”

“no,” he says simply. “he doesn’t know about it."

oh? that surprises you, suddenly you feel much happier.

“what?” he adds dryly. “i’m allowed to throw a party without that asshole, and you need to get out. please?”

you hum like you haven't already made up your mind.

“you can wear that matching set, the leopard print one,” choso adds. “the ones so sexy.”

you give him an excited giggle and agree.

“fine,” you say. “i’ll come.”

he hums like he knew you would. “i’ll text you the details. bring whoever you want.”

you thank him then hang up and lay back again.

sure, sukuna had basically ruined your entire afternoon, but chosos parties were always nice, and he wouldn't be there. win win!

~

meanwhile, satoru’s dorm smells like weed and really expensive cologne.

the taller guys legs are criss crossed on the bed with his shirt clinging to his broad chest, his glasses halfway down his nose. suguru’s in the desk chair off to the side with his sketchbook balanced on his thigh, pen smoothing over the page. they’re both a little baked.

“sukuna can't handle all of that, bro,” satoru says after a moment. “he’s such a fucking clown.”

“i hear ya.”

they'd been taking shots at the man for being a pissy boyfriend for the past half hour.

“she should be worshipped,” suguru echoes, voice low. “with tongue.”

satoru laughs like he's short of breath. “you’re gonna make me hard again.”

“you’re always hard.”

“only for her.”

satoru grabs the blunt and takes another hit, suguru adds a shadow to your lips, the shape of them exact from memory. he doesn’t need reference photos anymore he could draw you from bone and ash if he were ever stranded in the pits of hell.

“gross. what if she's with that flop.” satoru sighs.

he groans, grabbing a pillow and stuffing it over his face. “i need to go to the gym, i can't imagine her with that dick any longer.”

suguru just keeps drawing. his phone buzzes against the desk, he glances down, then lifts it. “it’s choso.”

he picks up. “yeah?”

choso’s voice is clear. “yo, i'm having a party at my place tonight, you two should come.”

suguru glances at satoru, who’s peeking from beneath the pillow with a very interested look, they weren't really the guys to be invited to functions.

“who’s coming?” 

“toji, nanami, yuki. maybe shoko. and, uh,” choso pauses. “y/n.” suguru’s grip on the phone actually quadrupled.

the two boys quite literally jitter at the mention of your name, their minds racking with the millions of possible situations that could occur tonight. this wasn't real, surely?

“y/n's coming?" satoru mouths sitting upright like an excited puppy.

suguru smiles at satoru and nods, making the white haired boy grin from ear to ear and jump up from the bed like the big goof he is.

“we’ll bring something,” suguru says, calm as ever, although, let's be real, he's fucking ecstatic. “see you soon, cho.” he hangs up and closes the sketchbook.

satoru is scrambling for a hoodie. “are we bringing alcohol or pot?”

"pot, obviously.”

“should i put on cologne or is that too much?”

“nah, it's never too much.”

satoru smiles. “okay, okay! i'll put on the nice one.”

“do you think she’ll talk to us?” satoru asks, suddenly nervous.

“no,” suguru says.

“but we’ll be near her.” satoru swallows.

“okay, yeah. near’s good.”

~

choso’s posted up on the porch like some washed up security guard.

his shoulders relax when he sees them walking up the sidewalk, two tall silhouettes backlit by the streetlights. satoru gets there first with his geeky faded digimon shirt being overshadowed by his sheer muscular mass. 

“you postin’ up like a bouncer now?” he teases, breath fogging in the crispy weather.

“gotta keep the freaks out,” choso mutters, glancing between the two of them. “and then i remember i invited you.”

suguru smiles, he was dressed like a chanel model cross frat attire, for a total geek he knew how to throw a fit. black button up halfway open reveling his tribal tattooed chest and some ridiculously expensive jeans that flattered his body so well. “and aren’t you glad you did?”

“jury’s out,” choso rolls his eyes.

satoru digs into his pocket and pulls out a small tin of weed. “look, our entry fee.” he says, flipping it open and offering it like a tray of macarons. “it's really good shit, so be greatful.”

“right,” choso says, but he takes one.

“suguru bought ‘em. he’s got a good dealer,” satoru borderline whines, he doesn't like people doubting him or his best friend.

"i'm just messin with you, toru." choso pushes satorus shoulder and laughs. "are you guys gonna be alright in there? lots of people y' don't know."

“we’re always alright,” satoru grins.

“sure,” choso says. “you two have a weird effect on people.”

satoru grin's teasingly “you mean a sexy effect.”

“i mean a weird one,” choso reiterates.

suguru chuckles, “we’re on our best behavior.”

“that your best?” choso gestures to suguru’s half open shirt. “jesus.”

once they smooth inside they're blown in the face by the potent smell of alcohol and grass.

people give them glances then quickly look away like they're either intimidated or just not coherent enough to fully appreciate their beauty.

they find a couch in the corner that's low to the ground and good for people watching. suguru takes the end and man spreads out while satoru slouches beside him with his long limbs draped in studied disarray, his finger idly tapping his phone screen but not really looking at it.

frank ocean is softly floating in the background, it's overall a good kinda vibe.

they're just settling in when they notice toji. he’s up near the kitchen leaning against the counter dressed in black on black on black. he doesn’t smile at anyone and he doesn’t blink, just watches them watching him.

satoru lifts two fingers in a greeting. “toji,” he calls.

toji raises his cup in acknowledgment and stalks towards the two.

“you look well,” suguru smiles.

toji’s voice cuts across the room. “hm, what’d you bring?”

“weed,” satoru answers, grinning. “and each other.”

“i figured,” toji mutters. he takes a sip from his cup, then adds, “y'know, y/n's here.”

“oh, when'd she get here?” suguru asks trying to sound nonchalant.

“just walked in,” toji says. “looked abit sad, i can't lie."

“aw,” satoru hums looking over the crowd.

“and sukuna?” suguru asks.

toji’s yawns. “haven’t seen the guy, don't think toji invited him.”

“good,” satoru flashes his pearly teeth.

toji shakes his head as he watches them for another second. “you two are fucking sick,” he says.

“we know,” satoru replies.

“but you’re fun to watch,” toji adds, then vanishes into the kitchen.

satoru exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “i might combust.”

“oh cmon,” suguru says. “we haven't even seen her yet.” but obviously, as life would have it, they clock you.

and when you walk into the room like some higher being with that outfit, satoru breathes your name out then slaps a hand to his big stupid mouth. suguru doesn’t say anything but his hands are already itching for a pen, wanting to capture this moment in his own little way. 

you looked perfect. 

that’s all they can think in their half baked brains, watching you from across the room like you’re the moon and they'd never seen night before. the party smooshes around you all, orbiting the shine of your pretty smile and the flash of your earrings, the sweet ridiculous sway of your hips as you laugh at something yuki says and lean into her like you belong to no one.

they're not breathing right, they keep inhaling too deep or too slow, then holding it like they're trying to trap the moment inside their lungs.

“my god,” satoru mutters, "look at her.”

"i know..." suguru's got one of his hands rubbing his temples like this is all too much for him.

they’re stoned, yeah, but it’s the kind of high that sharpens things instead of dulling them down to a blunt smack. it makes your mouth dry and your stomach hollow and your hands twitch when you see something you want but just can’t touch.

you’re surrounded, of course. draped in others arms and flowing conversations while smiling so, so brightly, sipping from someone else’s cup.

yuki’s arms around your waist, maki’s laughing near your shoulder, shoko leaning in close to talk to you over the noise.

“i’d ruin her,” satoru says softly.

“shh, not here,” suguru murmurs.

then, choso appears, intruding their spectacle. he slips behind you like a shadow and you lean back into him freely, your head tilting toward his shoulder and your hand coming up to hold around his wrist. your fingers brush the hem of his sleeve and satoru physically can't help but twitch.

“what the fuck,” satoru huffs.

“best friends,” suguru reminds him. “remember?”

choso says something and you laugh, he wraps an arm around your waist and you don’t move away. satoru makes another strangled noise like the drama queen he is.

“calm down,” suguru says, though even his usually calm and soothing voice is aggressive now.

yet, their malice almost instantly disappears when they watch your eyes scan the room then, oh shit, they land right on them.

satoru feels it like a physical blow to the head, your gaze lands on him, then suguru, then both of them. your expression doesn’t change much, just a soft, almost curious look.

and then choso follows your gaze too, and...

fuck.

he smirks and they panic.

you smile as choso whispers something only you can hear in your ear, "you see those two over there? they've got this huge crush on you, y'know. might be worth indulging to forget about that asshole for tonigt."

you considered his words, it was the nerds from earlier, and hell if they didn't look even more attractive in the dark lighting... maybe choso was onto something.

he starts walking toward them, still holding your waist guiding you through the people like he’s bringing you home.

satoru’s heart starts flipping out, perhaps even convulsing and dying. suguru quickly closes the sketchbook he was about to start drawing in and sets it beside him.

“play it cool,” he murmurs.

satoru nods. “yeah, yeah! cool, i'm so cool,”

“lower your shoulders,” suguru adds.

“right.”

“stop bouncing your leg.”

“fuck me, bro.”

you stop in front of them like a beautiful monet. next to you choso cheeses. “you two remember how to say hi to a girl, or do i have to teach you?”

“hi! i- uh,” satorus voice cracks and he slaps a hand over his mouth.

“hi." suguru cuts in trying to save his best friend. you smile at him, sweet and a-lot-a-bit amused at gojos little slip up.

“hi,” you say, and your voice is warm and clear, offering satoru a smirk that makes his ears turn redder.

“this is satoru,” choso smiles, gesturing with one ringed finger. “he’s sort of a science freak, he's an astrophysics major, thinks weed makes him smarter.”

“it does,” satoru replies instantly, sitting up and adjusting his glasses while adorably avoiding eye contact with you. “scientifically.”

“right... and this is suguru,” choso continues, looking at him with a smile. “ he's an arts major. probably has a hundred drawings of you in that little sketch book.”

suguru almost choked at the call out and fumbles to skwark out a response. “hey! don’t tell her that.”

hm, this was definitely getting intriguing. you glance at him, angling your head to access him better. “oh, is that true?” you tease.

he meets your eyes shyly. “maybe."

you giggle and satoru feels it sink deep into his love struck heart.

they could'nt believe it, you were seriously talking to them, like, right now. offering them your perfect pretty voice as you stood there radiantly gazing at them through pretty lashes. they could feel their blood rushing to all different places at the sheer proximity...

"you’re choso’s friends?” you ask, looking between them sweetly pretending to not notice the way they're practically eye fucking you. they were definitely fans, you could just tell. not to mention one of them apparently has some secret stalker sketches of you, they weren't exactly being subtle.

“yeah, classmates,” suguru throws out, rubbing his neck and adjusting his jeans while satoru still sat peering up at your figure.

these guys were a little weird, you'd thought that since seeing them in the hallway, but they were hot. like, smoking hot. “i’m a media comms major,” you giggle, “minoring in fashion marketing.”

“we know.” satoru blurts out way louder than anticipated, then catches himself. “i mean, cool. that’s cool.”

you raise a brow. “you guys stalking my linkedin or something?”

“lowkey, yeah,” suguru says unapologetically.

“jesus,” choso mutters.

but you laugh again like you don’t mind. you twirl a piece of hair around your finger. “that's... cute, i guess."

cute. she called us cute.

“mm. more like dumb freaks,” choso says fondly. and you just smile like you’re not even a little surprised. maybe you knew?...

“good,” you say. “i like freaks.” and satoru’s entire brain turns to mush while suguru clears his throat and pulls at his jeans once again.

choso drops down onto the couch with his legs spread and his back slouched, and you slip easily into the space beside him, your thigh brushing his.

“so,” you say, stretching your legs out. the hem of your skirt riding higher, “what do two scary smart guys like you do for fun?”

“this,” satoru says, pointing to his blunt.

“and this,” suguru murmurs, tapping his sketchbook, you glance over at the long haired guy.

“are you really drawing me or was that like, a joke?”

he doesn’t answer at first, just looks at you with that hesitant gaze, then flips open the sketchbook, turns it toward you, and holds it still.

your face sat staring back at you, charcoal and his smudged obsession all over the page.

hm, he was serious...

you nod, then laugh. “that’s kinda insane,” you smile, appreciative yet a little concerned, as one would be.

“yeah, he’s kinda insane,” satoru says.

“takes one to know one,” you reply, not looking away from suguru.

his voice is embarrassed now as he avoids your sparkling eyes. “do you... do you mind?”

you glance at him, then satoru, then choso, who just shrugs like he’s used to this kind of attention around you.

“guess not,” you say. “i think it’s hot, just wished i'd known of such devout fans a little sooner, y'know.”

satoru makes a tiny sound in the back of his throat, suguru just hums and flips to a fresh page. he was always quieter when he was embarrassed, nervous, or flustered, and satoru could tell suguru was going insane over your careless flirting.

every word that fell from your mouth was driving the boys insane, they glanced at eachother and exchanged a silent conversation. one that said, 'i'm so fucking hard right now what the hell am i supposed to do!?' they both clear their throats and shift in their seats.

your eyes drag over to satoru next, making him tense up a little. “and you? physics, right? what do you do in your spare time?”

“i… read things. smoke, i think about time a lot.” look at photos of you, he almost stutters, adjusting his glasses again out of nervous habit.

you blink. “hm, time?”

“yeah, like, the concept of it. what it means that we experience things in sequence. how we know we’re not dreaming.”

god he was such a dork, but you loved it so far. he was cuter than suguru, one was stoic and sexy and the other was slightly more bubbly and cute, this dynamic was really starting to grow on you.

feeling confident you let the sweetness drop and the sultry tone take over, deciding to tease him in that flirty way.

“you're so weird.”

“yeah,” he says breathless at the change of mood, “i know.”

you stare at him, his big black rimmed glasses and his faded digi shirt, how big he was for such a timid seeming guy.

then you shift to suguru, he's quiet and strange, i mean, who the hell draws hundreds of sketches of someone they've never had the courage to talk to before?

yeah, they were both lowkey kinda guys, quiet and awkward. but fuck if they weren't bad as hell. catching their eye in the hallway and now meeting them at a party? the universe was surely giving you signs.

you watch as their eyes seem to wash over each and every part of your body, taking in every little detail.

you’re a little high, but not stupid. you’re used to attention but not like this. theirs feels… different. more intense, almost like they’re not flirting, more so studying.

choso slings an arm behind you, tapping your shoulder with two fingers. “you good?”

“mmhm,” you hum, leaning into his touch. “they’re interesting.”

“told you.”

“and hot.” you murmur.

satoru hears it and his breath hitches.

“you guys live on campus?” you ask, them being oblivious to the ulterior motives cooking up in your head.

“yeah, the dorms,” satoru says.

“it’s kinda gross.” suguru adds, the boys once again exchanging a look to almost check up on eachother. we're good so far, normal conversation isn't that bad!

“so you guys hang out a lot?” you ask, tilting your head.

“basically live in each other’s pockets,” choso says, tapping ash into the cup again. “they’re like married. it’s freakish.”

“shut up, it’s just practical,” suguru replies.

“yeah, no, that's hot,” you repeat again. two sexy guys living in the same dorm knowing they're both fans of you and we're currently shitting bricks over this insignificant conversation? this situation was almost too perfect to be playing out the way it was. you felt like the universe was playing some reverse harem trick on you.

you’re lounging back now as your finger traces patterns on the head of the couch right by sugurus neck.

they're almost having an out of body experience, everything is too much. your perfume is quite literally assaulting their noses in the best way, your body is moving and shifting and it's only worsening the growing bludges in both of their pants.

they feel an overwhelming urge to just pick you up and take you back to their dorm, sit you on the bed and study every little thing. ask every question they've been dying to know about you, take turns worshiping, praising, pleasuring the beauty that only existed on their phones until this very moment.

now you're talking to choso about whatever party's happening next week, engulfed in his words giving them time to debrief off to their own side of the couch.

suguru leans into satoru's ear and whisper screams like the room isn't teeming with noise. "what the hell do we do now?"

satorus still cooling down from the light teasing and rubs his eyes under his glasses. "she's literally right there, we can't lose this opportunity, bro. what should we say?"

"we could ask about her modelling?" suguru suggests.

"that's creepy." satoru shakes his head, shooting his head over his shoulder to make sure you're still busy talking to choso.

"her hobbies?"

"too basic!"

"then what the fuck do we say?!"

"you're acting like i talk to women!"

before they can finish their pathetic little plan to keep you interested, choso turns to them and speaks up.

“i’m gonna go grab a drink,” he laughs. he pushes up from the couch, a cocky smirk falls across his mouth. “don’t embarrass yourselves too hard, boys.”

suguru rolls his eyes and satoru feels his bones tense.

and just like that, you’re alone.

in this perfect little corner of the room, it’s just you and them. two boys who’ve been obsessing over you for months like it was a sport, acting unbothered every time you walked past even though they were starving in ways they’d never ever admit.

satoru leans back like he’s relaxed with his legs sliding wider, pretending he’s just getting comfy to hide the way his pants are getting tighter and tighter... his fingers tap his thigh slowly as he plasters on that wicked smile, yet inside, he feels like if he blinks wrong he’ll cry.

suguru try's to look calmer but his thoughts are loud, every one of them about where to take this next, how to keep it cool, how to not give away that he’s two seconds away from losing all of his composure.

you can pick up the sexual tension and decide to capitalise on it. “jeez, you guys always this intense?”

you fold your arms under your chest and lean in giving them a good look at your pretty cleavage. both of them glance down quickly, then immediately back up.

instead of panicking, satoru answers smoothly, “maybe you’re just distracting.”

suguru hums. “yeah, kinda hard not to stare at a girl like you.”

underneath the nonchalant-ness, they’re freaking the fuck out. since when were they able to hold up conversation without nerding out and scaring people off?

you laugh, waving it off. “i’m teasing. you’re just a bit nervous, that’s fine. you guys don’t talk to many girls or something?”

satoru gives a little shrug. “not ones like you.”

suguru leans in closer, “definitely not like you.”

you can tell that they're going to war in their own respective minds, you sorta had that effect on people. but they for some reason, made it much more obvious than other guys.

cute, you liked virgins.

behind this blatant flirting your mind drifts to sukuna, then to the girls you know he's hiding somewhere in his phone, and suddenly he's gone again. funny how that happens. if he can treat you like shit, then you can do the same.

your eyes drop to the sketchbook on suguru’s lap at the half finished sketch of yourself, he really was talented, you liked that in your men.

“so… you always draw girls you wanna fuck, orrr?”

satoru genuinely almost groans at the vulgar words coming out of such a cute mouth, but suguru doesn’t react as strongly.

“no.”

you turn your head slightly, lips turning up into a smile. “just me then?”

his eyes flutter shut for half a second like you'd caught him red handed. “yeah... just you.”

you trail your gaze down his torso deliberately, then turn to satoru.

“what about you, gojo?”

he clears his throat gently, “satoru, you can call me satoru.. and what about me?”

you lower your voice, fingers playing with your skirt. “d'you want me too? is this something the both of you like... discuss in your little nerd cave?”

he actually laughs under his breath trying for suave. “want’s a mild word...”

"hm. so, you ever think about what it’d be like?” your voice goes low. “taking me apart together?”

might as well throw the ball out there and see how they react.

and react they did, the guilty look on their faces confirmed what you pretty much already knew, they were into that freaked out throuple shit.

you continue like you’re talking about the weather, just trying to get a rise out of them, mentally and physically. “who’d start,” you say, “and who’d finish.”

your hand slides down suguru’s solid bicep and his throat bobs hard.

“you’d take turns, right?” you ask sweetly. “be real nice to me?”

satoru curses under his breath and suguru digs his nails into his knee to keep from shivering.

you smile at them, “or maybe not?”

now their heads are filled with images they’ve only let themselves fantasise about in the dark. suguru’s brain is showing him flashes, your hands bound with his belt, your mouth open and wet, your thighs trembling under both their grips.

satoru’s picturing you in his lap, suguru behind you, his fingers splayed over your throat while satoru kisses the words out of your mouth.

you lean back, finally giving them room to breathe, but they don’t. they seriously can’t.

and still, through the thick syrup of want, you feel it: the sting of guilt. you’re not drunk, maybe a bit high, bust still. when it came down to it, you were just being reckless while hurting.

memories of sukuna’s thick fingers on your waist just yesterday, the way he grunted when he finished and didn’t look you in the eye. just zipped up, threw some unsignificant words your way, and left.

you think of all the nights you cried over him and all the times you begged, all the times you forgave him just to keep things civil.

and you think of last weekend. and the weekend before that, and the weekend before that.

it seemed like you had a new story for each function you went to together, this was not healthy.

...yeah, fuck it.

they obviously want you, really badly, and you needed a good distraction. what better distraction than two tall, handsome strangers to take your mind off things?

you move so you're sitting in between them, and they part for you like the red sea. "can't let geto take all of the attention now can i?"

“jesus christ,” satoru whispers as you sit down almost ontop of him, he tries his best to keep his hands to himself as you readjust your skirt while sitting squished between them.

you catch yourself grinning before grabbing the white haired boys collar, what did you have to lose? one night, you could indulge for one night.

you lean in, suguru’s breath fans over your cheek as you press your lips to satoru’s, it was barley a brush, yet the exhale that escaped his lips was thick and needy. his hands jumped to your jaw but you pull away quick to give suguru some attention.

he meets you halfway with his eyes falling shut. his hand guides up your body and brushes your waist although he doesn’t pull you in, not yet, not unless you want it.

and you do.

so you kiss him deeper with one hand gripping his shirt and the other sliding up into satoru’s soft hair. they’re both touching you everywhere like they can’t believe this is real, they're half expecting to wake up in a cold sweat.

you pull back for air with lips bruised, and satoru’s chasing you before he even knows it, a needy, gasping thing.

your mouths meet messily with hunger. you nip his lower lip and he whimpers, then moans low in his throat as your hips shift between them, pressing firm to suguru’s thigh. satoru’s pupils are blown so wide they look bottomless.

and god, god, they want you.

"holy— are you real?" suguru manages to groan, and you feel ecstatic at the feeling.

all until the fear hits.

your eyes open, just barely and you do a quick sweep of the room. you see them everywhere, phones.

not aimed at you, but they're everywhere all the same. in hands, on laps, on tables. camera lenses you can’t see and screens you can’t control. this isn’t your dorm, this isn’t even your party, this is choso’s house. and you’ve made a career, a life, out of being seen a certain way, you can’t risk this.

not when there’s a chance he could see it. sukuna was a headache you wanted to deal with much later down the track.

you pull back pressing your palms to their chests. their mouths chase yours dazed and so out of breath, but you hush them with a kiss to the corner of suguru’s lips, a brush of your fingers down satoru’s jaw.

“we should take this somewhere more.. private.” you whisper sensually.

you slide off the couch and tug your dress into place, checking over your shoulder once as a coy smile spreads across your swollen lips. suguru’s standing eagerly and satoru fumbles with his belt that you'd pulled at earlier.

“lets go upstairs, yeah?”

you shoot down the hall and up choso's long stairway, you faintly hear them behind you whispering curses.

“jesus christ.” satoru mutters under his breath. “what's even happening...”

“this is a dream, it's gotta be.” suguru says.

“if it is, don’t wake me.”

you reach the upstairs hallway where the rooms are, and choso's standing by his bedroom door with the drink he said he was gonna grab earlier.

you look up at him and he seems to know the situation before you even had a chance to explain. his eyes flick over your body, the smear of gloss on your chin and the flushed heat of your cheeks, he doesn’t judge.

he stares behind you at the taller boys practically shaking with nerves, he tries to surpress a laugh at how pathetic his friends look. although, hes proud of them for not totally ruining their opportunity with you by saying something too creepy or out of pocket.

you step close, just enough for him to hear you over the noise of whatever shitty drake song was bumping.

“can i use your room, cho?” you ask politely. the way you say it is sweet and light, but choso can hear the not so nice undertones, the rage. the heartbreak. the fuck you of it all.

he looks like he's contemplating for a moment, then exhales through his nose. “both, huh?" he teases, earning a bashful look rom all three of you. "course, go crazy.”

you grin shyly as your fingers brush his wrist as you pass by, "thanks, love ya."

when the two men scuff by, choso nods, and yawns. “don’t fuck up my shit.”

satoru closes the door behind you with trembling fingers and suguru rubs his neck anxiously like he's ten seconds away from falling apart all over you.

they both look at you with wide eyes and unsure, after all, this was their first time.

they’re looking at you like you’re quite literally the single most amazing thing they've ever seen, and even with the air of uncertainty, they both looked so beautiful you wanted to sob.

you take a shaky step back toward the bed, and they follow suit.

they don’t rush you or fumble, they just inch closer like gravity’s dragging them to you. like they’ve been waiting a lifetime for this moment and they’d rather die before wasting it.

you stand next to choso's big comfy bed, suguru stands close infront of you as satoru circles behind, they're both sweating bullets. you watch as their hands shake with the need to touch, to grab.

"well... go on." you whisper.l

both boys tense up, but as soon as the hesitation's gone they're scrambling to try and make this feel as natural and consensual as possible before indulging in their fantasies, like they'd always said they would if this was to ever happen.

“is this okay?” suguru asks, brushing his fingers along the bottom of your skirt. “we’ll stop if you—”

“—no,” you breathe. “no, it's fine. don't stop, just... please.”

the boys look at eachother like they'd struck gold.

satoru’s long fingers pull your tight top up and over your body, kissing at your neck as he does so. suguru stands behind you, undoing the clasp of your bra with a deftness that makes your thighs clench, his mouth grazing your shoulder blades as the straps fall loose down your arms.

they undress you like they’re unwrapping some beautiful luxury gift. for virgins, they were doing wonderfully so far.

suguru’s hands slide down your sides to unzip your skirt, and it pools around your ankles in a heartbeat. satoru drops to his knees to help you step out of it, and you could swear he shudders when your bare thighs come into view.

“fuck,” he breathes. “you’re…”

but he doesn’t finish.

he just looks up at you, eyes wide behind his glasses, blue and blown with complete and utter awe, he's staring like you’re some divine creature.

then suguru turns you gently, his hand curling under your chin to tilt your face toward his. he kisses you slowly, and when he pulls back you’re trembling from the sensuality of it all.

you almost feel greedy having this much attention on you.

choso’s sheets are soft and rumpled beneath your thighs as they ease you down, laying you back so softly. satoru kneels beside you and suguru leans over you, and they begin to undress themselves slowly.

you cant help but groan because god, they’re unreal under all of that geeky shit.

suguru shrugs off his sweater, the hem dragging over his beautifully cut torso revealing smooth, pale skin and thick lines of muscle traced with soft black hair.

he’s covered in little scars, faint things like he’s lived a hundred lives just to get here, in this moment with you.

you can’t look away from the tattoos that curve around his chest, how they stretch over his muscle as he inches closer.

satoru pulls off his jumper in one messy sweep, ruffling his snowy hair and leaving it even more tussled than before. his t-shirt comes next, he’s a little leaner than suguru, but muscular all the same.

you stare, and they know you’re staring. i mean, you weren't being very subtle about it...

satoru goes redder in the face from this new attention, his hands are shaking again as he peels off his jeans. when you glance down, you gawk as his pretty cock slaps back against his tummy, so hard and long.

suguru’s slower as usual, keeping his eyes on you the whole time as he undoes his belt and pushes down his jeans, the snap of leather making your thighs squeeze together.

and then they’re both kneeling at the foot of the bed, fully undressed, looking at you like you’re god.

“she’s shaking,” suguru notices as his eyes trail up your bare legs. “we should start slow, satoru.”

“yeah,” satoru says, crawling closer. “yeah, slow, gotcha…” he swallows nervously.

you're genuinely overwhelmed at how methodical they seem to be, how having their undivided attention suddenly flipped the power dynamic, now you're at their mercy.

when they lay you back, when they open your thighs with trembling hands and eager mouths, you feel a flip of need in your stomach.

you’ve been touched before, plenty. you’ve been kissed, been fucked, been thrown around a bedroom by a man who only knew how to want you with his hands, not his heart.

sukuna was always rough and so, so selfish. he’d shove your knees apart without looking you in the eye, fuck you hard and fast like he was trying to pour out all of his frustration, and always left you cold and empty afterwards.

you let yourself be used, again and again. hoping that one dad, he’d see you, want you in the way romeo wants juliet.

and now? instead of that, there’s this.

satoru’s mouth hot and wet and oh so greedy as his tongue slides past your lips, moaning like he’s already got his cock inside of you.

suguru’s hands fan over your chest, groping your tits sensually, “fuck, want you so bad."

satoru pulls away from your lips with a gasp, tugging at your jeans. “fuck, want you bare. now.”

suguru butts in, “that okay?”

you nod, also breathless. “yeah,”

“good girl,” the purple eyed man smiles, his eagerness making you throb.

shit, for virgins these guys knew how to get a girl going, your mind was blown.

satoru falls to his knees and kisses your thighs feverishly, his spit drips onto your pussy before he laps it up with a filthy moan. “fuck, you’re wet,” satoru pants. “is that for us?”

you nod with your hips trembling, whines spilling out with each breath. "f—fuck! he's, yes it's for you." you groan.

suguru snakes a hand around the front for your cunt and finds your clit in record time, dj-ing the bundle of nerves using satoru's spit as lube. "aw, you like that baby? like having us both at once?"

they moan in sync when you moan out a "fuck, yes!"

satoru buries his face in your cunt like he’s trying to suffocate in it, his tongue circling your clit now as suguru toys with your nipples, his two fingers working deep inside you, slapping wet sounds into the quiet of the room. satoru's sloppy and greedy with his jaw completely soaked, eyes rolling back every time you whimper. “taste her,” he mumbles up to suguru. “holy shit, taste-”

suguru shifts positions and leans down without hesitation, then licks you right off satoru’s mouth. your knees almost give out.

“perfect,” he mutters.

“so fucking good,” satoru finishes.

they drag you further up the bed, both of them hard and leaking. you see the way satoru grips the base of his cock, flushed red and twitching, precum spilling down his knuckles. suguru’s is heavier, curved meanly upwards, all veined and dark, there's a piercing glinting at the tip.

“can we take you?” satoru pants while suguru's leaving heavy kisses up and down the sides of your shoulders.

“—yes!” you whimper, “please, please.”

the black haired ones on you first, face now buried between your thighs in place of satoru, tongue working your clit while satoru kneels beside your head, stroking his cock. “open,” he tells you, you obey, and he spits in your mouth with a devilish grin.

“swallow it,” suguru says, watching from between your legs. “good fucking girl.” he praises as he watches your throat bob.

they take turns. satoru fucks your throat slow and deep, his hands cradling your head like you're both fragile yet able. suguru sucks and licks up every inch of your cunt, his tongue curling inside you, then pulling back to spit on your clit before rubbing it in with his fingers.

“she likes that,” satoru says with a wrecked voice. “look how loud she's gettin'.”

“jesus,” suguru growls. “god, let me fuck her already—"

“wait,” satoru groans, pulling out of your throat with a pop. “i wanna be in her mouth when you go in.”

they flip you, get you on your hands and knees. satoru kneels in front of you, his cock glossy with your spit. suguru lines himself up behind you, hands firm on your hips.

you’re soaked and throbbingas he slides in with one slow, mean thrust, and you scream around satoru’s cock.

suguru groans a pornographic groan. “tight fucking pussy,” he pants. “gripping me so hard, fuck!”

“she's doing so well, taking my cock to the —fuck— to the base,” satoru gasps, thrusting into your mouth.

they fuck you in sync. suguru pounds into you from behind, each thrust making your thighs shake, cock punching deep into your cunt while satoru holds your face steady and uses your throat like a pocket pussy. tears streak your cheeks and spit drips from your lips.

you're completely and utterly wrecked, yet you’ve never felt more loved.

“gonna cum,” suguru growls, yanking you up by the hair. “gonna fill her up,”

“inside,” you gasp, pulling off satoru. “please, please come inside!”

suguru moans at that, and with one final pull, he's spilling inside you hard and deep. he keeps thrusting through it, fucking his cum back up into you.

“switch,” you mumble almost instantly. “i want both.”

satoru's all breathless but he's grinning like a kid on christmas, he helps you onto your back.

suguru leans down and kisses you filthily, cum still dripping from your pussy onto the sheets.

you’re shaking, but still hungry for more of this sweet, sweet sex.

“you sure?” satoru pants, slapping his cock against your ass before lining up.

“yes,” you breathe. and when you confirm, he slides in slowly.

he tried to hold back, but the moment he bottoms out, his control shatters. he slams into you, moaning like he’s possessed, watching his cock fuck suguru’s cum into you with each thrust.

“fuuuuk, you’re dripping,” he gasps. “that’s his, huh? all that from us?” he leans down and kisses your open mouth, then pulls back to spit in it again. you swallow with a moan.

suguru watches, stroking himself with a fucked our expression. “you’re both so hot,” he sighs. “look at you two, jesus.”

after a good few deep thrusts, satoru too finishes inside you hard, his cock spamming and jerking deep in your cunt. you feel every spurt, hot and full mixing with suguru’s, dripping down your thighs.

and then, “open up,” suguru says, kneeling over your chest from his spot beside the bed.

you stick out your tongue and his seed covers the inside of your mouth. you swallow it all and the action makes the boys hard all over again.

still, they gauge that this was probably enough for the first time, and they rush to clean you up immediately.

this was sex you could seriously get used to.

~

after the clean up, you’re asleep before either of them can even utter the word 'aftercare'.

curled between them in the tangle of choso’s sheets, one leg tossed over suguru’s thigh, your cheek pressed deep into satoru’s warm chest.

your breathing is soft and steady like you’ve never slept better, like you were meant to end up right here, with both of them wrapped around you tight.

satoru stares down at you, stunned.

“she’s asleep,” he whispers.

“mm,” suguru hums beside him. “out cold.”

satoru breathes out a disbelieving laugh. “holy shit.”

suguru smiles slowly. “yeah.”

“i mean,” satoru whisper screams, “did that actually just happen? like, what the fuck?”

he looks at you again, at your bare shoulder rising and falling and how your lashes kiss your cheeks. your hand is fisted into his shirt, you’re holding onto him in your sleep.

he swallows. “fuck, man.”

suguru’s hand rests lightly on your hip, his fingers dotting soft circles over your skin, he can’t stop touching you even now. “that shit was like a dream.”

“she was perfect,” satoru agrees.

suguru's hand slides carefully up your spine and you shift slightly in your sleep, a soft whisper, and both of them freeze as to not wake you further. but you don’t open your eyes, you just sigh, sweet and content, pressing closer into the warmth of their worn out bodies.

suguru watches you like he’s studying religious scripture. “i’ve imagined it,” he says quietly. “a thousand times. how she’d sound. how she’d taste.”

satoru nods. “i thought it wouldn’t be as good as i imagined.”

“mhm, but it was better,” suguru says, voice hoarse.

“so much better.”

their thoughts drift back to how easily you let yourself be taken care of by them, letting them see you vulnerable, see you cry, even. they knew you didn't get that with sukuna.

"bet that beg's never fucked her like that.” suguru jokes, and satoru rolls his eyes. “obviously. if some virgins can outfuck that clown, that's just embarrassing.”

tthey stare at you again, admiring your pretty features as you sleep soundly.

satoru brushes a knuckle along your temple. “she was genuinely phenomenal, oh my god.” he's obviously still convinced this was all a dream.

suguru hums. “she clenched so hard on my cock, i thought i was gonna die.”

they both fall silent again, looking down at how peaceful you were.

“i hope we made her forget. about him, i mean. could tell something was up,” suguru sighs.

satoru nods. “mhm, hope we gave her something to think about instead of whatever issues they're having.”

“she deserves it,” suguru murmurs.

“yeah,” satoru says. “she deserves everything.”

"and you don't even feel the slightest bit guilty? screwing a taken women?"

"nope. not when her man is that dick."

suguru just smiles, brushing his hands through your hair and humming in agreement.

the room smells like you, they smell like you. they’ve got you on their hands, in their mouths, under their nails. you’re in their teeth, in their veins, in their bloodstream.

they'd never felt so utterly consumed before, and they wouldn't want it any other way.

~

the door creaks open just after two.

choso leans into the doorway with a curious glance, taking in the sight of you sleeping peacefully against the two boys.

“hey.” he whispers into the darkness.

satoru flinches like he’s been electrocuted.

“jesus!”

“shhh.” choso murmurs into a dry tone. “you’ll wake her.”

suguru huffs, “shit, how long have you been standing there?”

“long enough,” choso says, stepping fully into the room now. he crosses to the side of the bed like he’s done it a thousand times. “relax, m' not pissed off or anything.”

“you’re not?”

choso shrugs. “i let you guys come up, lowkey egged her on, too.”

satoru looks at him. “so you’re not… like grossed out?”

choso snorts. “nah.”

suguru’s brow twitches. “you’re not… disappointed?”

choso shakes hi head at that.

he glances down at you again, at the way you’re sleeping, deep and undisturbed with a softness on your face he hasn’t seen in weeks. he sees the glow in your skin and the tension gone from your shoulders, melted away like butter on a hot day.

he sighs. “no, she clearly needed this.”

satoru and suguru exchange a glance, unsure if they’re about to be punched or hugged.

but choso only leans over, hands surprisingly careful, and nudges satoru’s shoulder with a low murmur. “alright, up.”

satoru quirks a confused brow. “what?”

“move, she sleeps better when she’s not squished between two lanky assholes.”

“but she’s—”

“oh my fucking god, move.”

his tone leaves little room to argue, so suguru sighs, then gets up stiffly trying not to wake you, untangling himself from the bedsheets and carefully withdrawing from the warmth of your body. satoru follows, groaning quietly. you stir a little but don’t wake, just curl inward into the space they leave behind, a faint sound of protest escaping your lips.

satoru almost cries at the loss.

“go,” choso puhes, “before she wakes up and feels weird.”

suguru looks at you one more time. then nods solemnly. he pulls on his hoodie, grabs his sketchbook from the floor, but satoru just stands there, staring.

choso raises a brow. “need help?”

“no,” satoru mutters. “i’m fine.”

he pulls his shirt on inside out, then they leave without another word.

choso sighs then pulls off his boots and shrugs off his jacket, folding it neatly over the back of his desk chair. he stalks back to the bed, careful not to wake you, then eases himself into the space satoru left behind.

you gravitate toward the new heat, you nuzzle into his chest with a little sigh, one hand fisting in the fabric of his shirt.

he smiles gently, taking in your adorably clingy nature.

“hey,” he murmurs fondly, brushing your hair from your face. “there she is.”

he doesn’t say anything else. just watches you sleep for a moment, long fingers stroking the plush of your cheek. your lashes flutter a little and your lips twitch, then you breathe his name without waking.

he closes his eyes contently, “sleep, ma,” he mutters. “you’re okay."

~

shit, your head was pounding.

your body was weighed down heavy with the kind of sex ache that makes your thighs shake when you stretch. you shudder under the covers and blink blearily into the chest in front of you.

“choso…?”

“hey.” his voice is sleepy and he’s barely opened his eyes. “mornin’, sweetheart.”

you’re nestled against him like you always are after long parties at his place, except this time your lips are swollen, your thighs are sore, and your body still sings with the memory of being ravished.

“uh, how did you—"

“js' found you like this,” he says simply, brushing a knuckle under your eye. “figured you’d want someone to keep the nightmares away or whatever.”

your heart melts.

“thank you, cho." you whisper.

he hums like it’s no big deal and like holding you through the night isn’t his favorite part of every party he has at his place.

you curl closer into him, your sleepy face tucked under his chin, breathing in his familiar scent. you and choso have always made sense, bestfriends since the beginning. you’ve never had to ask for much with him.

maybe it’d be easier if he didn’t care so much about you, if he could just be the guy who hosts the cool invite-only-parties and didn't get involved in the messy shit.

but he’s never had that option with you, no way.

not when he’s watched you make yourself small and insignificant for someone who doesn’t deserve you, he’s seen the way sukuna leaves you hollowed out and timid, he’s picked you up from the worst nights and still thought you were the best thing that ever happened to him.

he’s just there.

not because he wants anything from you, god, never, he’s not sukuna.

he just wants you to be safe, he wants you happy. wants you to know that someone sees you, that someone really gives a shit, because he really gives a shit.

so yeah, if it means slipping into bed beside you so you don’t wake up alone, brushing your hair back from your cheek while you breathe soft and steady, he’ll do it. because you’re his girl, even if you aren't really his girl. he’s always going to look out for you, no matter what.

if he can't be the one loving you right then he'll do everything he can to make those who can, do.

“hey, cho?”

“mm?”

“…do you have their numbers?” you ask shyly, trying to sound as flippant as you could.

he doesn’t have to ask who you mean, he just cheekily smiles. “yeah, baby,” he says. “i got you.”

"and cho?"

"yes?"

"don't tell ryo."

he would never, don't you worry.

~

monday

you told yourself it was just a one time thing. afterall, two guys at once was a bit much, even for you. (no matter if they were the best fuck you'd ever had.)

but then monday came.

you walk into the small campus café with your laptop tucked under one arm and your sunglasses still perched high on your pretty cheekbones, and there they were.

satoru and suguru. sitting in the back sharing a muffin, whispering furiously about whatever nerdy thing it was. normal, they hadn’t been inside you at the same time forty eight hours ago.

you almost turned around, but then suguru looks up, satoru following.

shit, they were so fucking pretty.

his eyes darkened when they landed on you like all he needed in this moment was to be close to you again, and you couldn’t move. couldn’t scoff and turn around, couldn’t not walk over to them when he raised a slow hand and curled his fingers in a quiet, come here.

so you walked over, and sat between them.

the vibe was a little akward, yet still somehow more comfortable than your expected. satoru was looking at you with that cute needy expression, and suguru smiled when his knuckles accidentally pushed at your wrist when he reached for his coffee. your stomach was flipping like a schoolgirl’s.

"you look as beautiful as ever, y/n." satoru murmurs as he grabs for your hand under the table.

"i still can't believe you're real, god, you're so cute." suguru whispers as his hands grip your thigh descreetly.

jeez, one night and they're getting this bold? you couldn't lie, you liked it.

an expectant smile crossed your lips when satoru leaned in and asked quietly, “wanna come over later?” you nodded, you knew you could never say no to these two.

tuesday

satoru keeps a bottle of lotion on his nightstand that smells like coconut and soy.

you’re not sure why that’s what sticks with you the most.

he'd kissed your thighs for fifteen full minutes before even touching you, he whispered mine, mine, mine into the hollow of your throat when you came, he looked at you after, eyes wet and mouth upturned like he’d seen something so divine.

instead of that, all you could focus on is lotion.

the smell of it on your wrists when you woke up in his bed, your body all aching and sore in the best way. when he sat behind you on the floor after your shower, hands gliding gently over your skin with the stuff, murmuring such sweet words in your ear.

“you’re so pretty like this,” he’d smile, rubbing circles into your shoulders. “all quiet and sleep.”

you let him touch you for a long time. let him press kisses down your spine, let him pull you into his lap and rest his cheek against your back as he listened to your hear beat.

you didn’t ask what this meant and neither did he, too soon for that.

wednesday

suguru brings you over to the dorm while satoru's out, and he sketches you.

you don’t know how you got to that point, one moment you were sitting on his bed in your underwear, eating strawberries from a chipped glass bowl, and the next he's looking at you like van gough looked at sunflowers.

“y/n, stay like that,” he said gently. you thought he meant it as a joke or something. maybe he was gonna do something freaky, but instead, he grabbed his sketchbook.

and then he drew you.

you followed his instructions and let him work away while you admired his beautiful face, taking in every little curvature of his blessed body. after he was through with sketching you raw, he placed his book aside, climbed onto the bed, straddled your hips, and kissed you so hard you felt him deep in your heart.

he’s quieter than satoru is and so much more intense. less prone to fidgeting, more prone to doing.

“you should be adored,” he said at one point, dragging his mouth along your collarbone as he plunged deeper inside of you. “you should be touched with all the care in the world.”

he didn’t realise you were crying until he kissed your cheeks and tasted the salt.

thursday

satoru’s the one who starts questioning every little thing first between the three of you.

at first he just acts really weird, he talks fast and says shit like “we’re not your boyfriends, right?” and, “i don’t wanna make it weird, haha, unless you do, but even then like… i dunno, just ignore me!”

you're lying on his floor in between his legs, he keeps running his fingers through your hair. you’re not wearing a bra, and he’s definitely hard, the perfect setting to have your mind turn hazy with pleasure.

but then, “do you regret it?” he asks suddenly.

"hm?"

“the weekend..” he replies. “and… everything after.”

you sit up with a confused look on your face.

satoru’s face is a mess of contradictions. he looks both nervous and cocky, like he’s daring you to reject him but also it would ruin him if you did.

you roll your eyes then kiss him rough until he's gasping for air.

“does that answer your question?” you murmur against his mouth, then he lets go of a groan.

“i’m so in love with you it’s disgusting,” he blurts out, then slaps a hand over his big mouth, turning red. “wait, pretend i didn’t—"

you kiss him again.

friday

suguru finds you in the library as you’re curled into a corner with your laptop, your hoodie's pulled over your head and your sunglasses are on. you're trying to avoid attention and pretend you’re being productive, when really, you’re just replaying the last five nights in your mind on repeat.

he smiles to himself and walks over, setting a cup of coffee by your hand. “hey there, pretty,” he says quietly.

he’s wearing glasses today with a loose button down, his hair is tied back in a low bun, he looks as perfectly put together as usual.

you grin before you can stop yourself. “hey, handsome.” he sits in the seat beside you, draping his arm over the back of your chair.

“you looked like you needed caffeine,” he murmurs. you glance at the coffee. it’s your exact order. “and a kiss,” he adds, even softer.

your face flushes hot.

“but i can wait until later.” he adds.

he doesn’t say, 'my place or yours,' but you hear it anyway.

you bite your lip, you know you weren't in a position to reject such a beautiful man. “later,” you echo, with a wide smile.

saturday

by now you stop acting like this isn't something you want.

there’s no “maybe this is a phase, maybe i just needed a distraction.”

there’s no one night stand logic that can explain the way suguru presses his face into your stomach after he comes, arms wrapped tight around your hips whispering about how he never wants to let you go.

there’s no throw away excuse for how satoru touches your face so gently, palms cupping your cheeks, thumb brushing your big lip, whispering your name as he thrusts in and out.

there’s no ignoring the ache in your chest when you leave them in the morning. your fingers hover over your phone every night, like maybe if you just called, one of them would show up at your door again. you’re not sure when this stopped being about sex.

and hell, you’re not sure it ever was.

saturday was spent overthinking.

sunday

satoru and suguru have you shared again, you're panting heavily from their joint efforts to make you finish as they caress your face tenderly, covered in sweat themselves.

"you did so well, baby. you took the both of us like a pro." satoru praises.

"it's like you were made just for us to take apart, isn't that right, honey?" suguru adds.

you could only whimper in reply from the intense moment that still hadn't been shaken yet.

the two hush you, whispering such sweet words while they kiss up and down your body trying to calm you down. you're left reeling with the thoughts you didn't want to acknowledge quite yet.

“i’m scared.” you whisper.

the boys stop their aftercare and move to hover around your face that's now somehow covered in tears.

"oh, my sweet girl... of what?" suguru asks, stroking your head as satoru rubs your cheek.

"it's just... this is getting too much. i'm scared of sukuna finding out, i'm scared of you two leaving me, or getting bored, or someone finding out, or—"

"—baby, relax. thats not gonna happen, we promise we'll—"

you cut satoru off. “but what if it’s just a phase? or something stupid we’re all into just because it’s new? what if i wake up and you guys leave? what if you don’t want me tomorrow? what if this whole thing is just…”

you're unloading everything that had been slowly eating away at you, you can’t finish through the small sobs.

suguru cuts in firmly this time. “no.”

"y/n, listen to me. me and satoru aren't going to abandon you, hell, if anything you should be the one walking away from us. were just two freak losers who got extremely lucky."

“yeah,” satoru agrees, his voice cracking halfway through it. “you’re not just something we wanted to fuck, okay? we want all of you, all of the time. but if sex is all you want to give us, then that's fine, we really don't mind.”

you close your eyes. the room is so quiet now, just your breathing and theirs, the soft creak of the floorboards as the building settles.

“it just feels so wrong... like i'm using you two to get over the pain someone else is giving me. someone who i'm still technically with..."

“we’re not taking anything negatively from this,” suguru speaks softly. “we don’t want anything you don't want. we just want you, in whatever way you want to be wanted.”

satoru exhales through his nose. “we’ve admired you for so long,” he murmurs. “we've been needing this for literal years, y/n, we're never going to just up and leave, it's a privilege you even looked our way that day in the hallway, let alone let us have you like this. morals be damned, we couldn't care less about you using us for solace.”

his confession makes you want to sob harder.

“i never thought i’d get to touch you,” suguru adds. “never even dreamed of this. of holding you like this. of being held by you, so don't worry your pretty little head, we're completley at your mercy.”

youre overwhelmed by the honesty, by the massive amount of devotion these two silly guys have you. hell, you were cheating on your boyfriend and using them as emotional anchors, they seriously were obsessed.

still, their attention always felt so pure.

“...you make me feel like i matter,”

“you do matter,” satoru assures, “you’re the realest person out there, y/n. and we lo-like you for you.”

"we love every part of you, okay? we're not gonna leave you." suguru smiles.

your eyes sting worse, and you think of sukuna, of all the nights you curled away from him after he’d taken what he wanted. you think of the mornings he didn’t even say goodbye. you think of the shame. the emptiness. the way you convinced yourself it was love when it really, really wasn't.

this, what satoru and suguru give you, is nothing like that.

you reach for them, pull them closer until their limbs are tangled in yours again, until you’re flush against suguru’s chest and satoru’s long body is draped around your back.

you close your eyes with a tight throat. “don’t let me go,” you whisper.

“never,” satoru murmurs into your hair.

“not ever,” suguru echoes, thumb stroking your waist.

~

now it was time to face the elephant in the room, after your week of emotional, intense sex with satoru and suguru, sukuna finally came over after a week of radio silence.

he basically cock blocked you just as you were about to leave your room and head to the boys, the quietness felt so disgusting when he was close.

he sits at the edge of your bed with his arms folded across his broad chest, you’re still by the door with your keys dangling from your hand, bag slipping off your shoulder.

“you’ve been weird,” he says flatly.

you blink, taken aback. “what?”

he doesn’t look at you when he says it again. “you’ve been weird. haven't texted for days. no invites.”

you gulp. “look, sukuna, i’ve just been—"

“busy?” he cuts you off, his voice deadly sharp. “yeah. busy ignoring me.” the door clicks shut behind you and your hand trembles on the knob.

“i’m not ignoring you,” you say much quieter now. “you’ve been busy too, no? with law midterms, remember?”

“don’t patronise me.” he scoffs.

“i’m not,” you murmur. “i’m trying to talk to you.”

he stands abruptly now pacing, fingers running through his pink hair in that agitated way that always comes before he says something horribly cruel.

“nah,” he mutters. “you’re trying to do damage control or some shit. every time i text, you take hours to respond. you come back home late, you dodge my calls, you’ve been hanging out with..." he pauses, squinting. “who’ve you even been hanging out with?”

"so you're stalking my location now?" you try to shift the conversation but the blank look on his face lets you know that he's not having it.

your mouth goes dry. you feel the heat rise in your cheeks, guilt, even though you told yourself a hundred times it wasn’t really bad cheating if he was doing the same behind closed doors.

“choso,” you lie. “and shoko. i’ve just been trying to keep my head on straight, kuna.”

“bullshit,” he snaps. “you’re lying.”

“i’m not!”

“don't fucking yell at me, you are.” he growls.

you can’t look at him, because he’s right, you are. not just about who you’ve been with, but about everything. about how you recoil when he touches you, you don’t like how he talks to you in front of your friends, you look for other names in your phone when things go wrong.

“why are you doing this,” you ask softly, “why are you trying to pick a fight with me?”

“because you’re not the same,” he snarls. “because something’s fucking off, and you think i’m too stupid to notice!"

you feel a knot in your stomach, not guilt, but anger. you’ve kept your mouth shut for months, made excuses for him, wiped away your own tears before anyone else could see them. and now he’s standing in your dorm, looking at you like you’re the problem? like he hasn’t been slowly sucking the light out of you since the start of the semester.

“it's none of your business. you do the same thing, sukuna,” you snap.

his red eyes narrow.

“you go ghost, ignore me for days, don't call, don't text. maybe i don’t wanna tiptoe around you every day. maybe i’m tired of getting punished for needing space, or being quiet, or not wanting to fuck you every single time you come over!”

his face twists. “so that’s what this is about?”

you laugh bitterly. “of course that’s the only thing you hear!”

“i fucking knew it,” he seethes, stepping closer. “you’ve been getting dick from someone else.”

your blood goes cold.

“the fuck?”

“who is it?” he demands. “that freak choso? is it toji? what, are you on some slut streak now, trying to fuck your way through all your little guy friends?”

you’re shaking with anger now.

“get out.”

“what?”

“get out, sukuna.”

he stares at you with his chest heaving.

“don’t talk to me like that,” you whisper. “don’t come into my room and call me names and accuse me of shit that you’ve done to me.”

he laughs then scoffs, stepping back. “so that’s it, huh? i call out your bullshit and suddenly i’m the villain?”

“you’re always the fucking villain!” you yell.

...

“you’re fucking pathetic,” he spits. “cry me a river, i'm gone.”

but you don’t cry. not until after the door slams or until you hear his boots stomp all the way down the hall, not until he’s fully gone. and then you’re on the floor.

knees pulled up to your chest with your hands shaking. it’s not even the fight, it’s the months you spent convincing yourself he loved you, you forgot how to want things that weren’t him, he turned every good thing sour and convinced you that it was your fault.

eventually, your hand finds your phone. you stare at your contact list through blurred teary vision. you scroll past 'kuna's' name, you scroll past choso.

and you stop on satoru and suguru's. your chest heaves with pain, you shouldn’t. they don’t deserve this. you can’t drag them into your mess just because you’re too weak to be alone.

but you think about their little confession earlier, how they were so adamant on being there for you, and decide this is the best thing you can do.

“hello?”

satoru’s voice is expectant like he was already waiting for you to call. you open your mouth, but nothing comes out except a strangled breath. “hey,” he asks softly. “are you okay?”

and you break. “can i come over?” you whisper. “please?”

satorus heart breaks in two when he hears the gentle sob in your plea, “of course,” he says. “i’ll come get you.”

“no,” you say quickly. “don’t. i'll come.” there’s a beat of silence. you imagine him looking at suguru. maybe nodding. maybe holding the phone between them like you’re some rare bird that landed in their hands and they’re afraid to scare you away.

“we’re here,” suguru says quietly now. “whenever you want.”

you nod, even though they can’t see you. “i’m leaving now.” then you hang up.

you stumble across campus with your hands shoved deep in your pocket, all you can think about is getting to their dorm and collapsing into their arms.

when you arrive, satoru’s there with the adorable messy hair you'd grown to love. suguru stands just behind him in a black t-shirt with his hair tied back, looking scared for whatever had hurt you now.

when you walk in past the boys, the pressure seems to ease up, but you could still feel the guilt eating away at you.

satoru comes to you first with his arms open and wide, suguru follows close behind, you fall into satoru’s chest shaking. he holds you like he wants to sew your broken parts together with his hands. suguru’s arms wrap around you both from behind, breath warm on your neck.

no one speaks until you whisper, “can i stay?”

suguru laughs solemnly. “you never have to leave.”

then they kiss you tenderly, this is what you needed.

some may of preferred a soft night full of praise and tight cuddles, but you? you just needed them to take your ability to think away, there was time for that softness later, afterwards.

ithey knew you well enough by now to know exactly how to take care of you in this kind of situation, and they got straight to it.

five minutes later they've wrestled your clothes off, and satoru’s tongue is trembling in your cunt like he’s going to cry from how good you taste.

he’s murmuring your name over and over with wet lips dragging sloppy kisses over your folds, his moans humming against your clit. he sounds wrecked, like he's unworthy but taking all he can get anyway, not at all entitled or selfish.

and suguru, he’s watching as his hand slides over your stomach, tracing circles against your skin as he holds you still for satoru’s mouth. every movement is so gentle, so purposeful.

“she’s shaking,” suguru whispers. “toru. slow down.”

but satoru just groans, deeper, like he physically can’t help himself.

“can’t, she’s so good— fuck, you’re so fucking good—" his muffled voice is strained and needy.

he laps you up with a helpless rhythm, his hands are gripping your thighs like he’s trying to keep you there, keep you there for him to service. his glasses are long gone, his eyes are glazed, his mouth is glistening with you.

you can barely breathe, you’re crying for what seems like the fiftieth time that week. not messy out of control sobbing, just quiet, stuttering tears. and it’s not from the orgasm building in your spine. it’s from how they’re treating you so gently.

suguru notices your wet face immediately and leans in, kisses your cheek, then, “you okay, sweetheart?”

"...i just... he never—"

your voice cracks and you can't finish the sentence, not that you need to.

because they know, they know.

satoru’s pace falters just a little. suguru’s fingers rub up and down your tummy.

“he doesn't deserve you,” suguru says, so low it’s almost a growl. “he can't handle all of this.”

you turn your head and sob once, the truth of his words really hit something deep within you it seems, because then you come.

hard.

satoru groans like he’s the one finishing, licking you through it with desperate, uncoordinated strokes, gasping against you like he’s addicted to the taste of your pleasure.

your body locks, then shudders, then melts.

and suguru pulls you into his big, safe arms, kissing your wet eyelids shut, murmuring soft, incoherent things against your skin.

you blink up at him, dazed and sore.

“do you wanna stop, baby?” he asks in a quiet voice.

and you say no.

hell no, you don’t want to stop.

you want to be held, ruined, then rebuilt afterwards.

you want them to drown out everything he left behind.

so suguru fucks you slow.

he guides you onto your back, one hand cradling your face, the other stroking down your thigh as he lines himself up. you feel the thick head of his cock press to your entrance, and your fingers tremble where they’re fisted in the sheets.

he pushes in.

inch by inch.

watching your face.

watching every reaction.

he doesn’t slam, doesn’t shove, only presses in gently until he’s buried inside you to the hilt and your walls are fluttering around him.

you gasp, whimper, any sound you could possibly be making in a situation like this was pouring out in humiliating waves.

and he moans, “fuck,” he breathes, forehead pressed to yours. “you’re— so tight, s-so good—"

satoru is still beside you, one hand in your hair, the other jerking himself slow, his mouth slack.

“she’s perfect,” he whispers. “she’s fucking... god, suguru, look at her.”

and suguru is, he fucks you like you’re made of glass. like this is the only chance he’ll ever get to love you. slow, dragging thrusts that push so deep they punch even the littlest sounds out of your sweet mouth.

you cling to him.

you whimper his name.

“please,” you gasp. “please! don’t stop— don’t leave—"

satoru kisses you so soft it makes your head hurt.

“never,” he says.

that seems to start the mantra of praise as they spill pretty words into the air.

"he didn’t deserve your body. or your heart.”

“we’ll take better care of you, baby.”

"pretty things like you need to be treasured."

and then, "open for satoru, sweetheart.”

you blink through the tears, still spread open and full of suguru, and then satoru is there again, cock flushed and leaking, breath ragged as he kneels by your head.

“can i?” he whispers. “i’ll go slow. i swear.”

and you nod.

because you trust them.

because you want them.

this was all happening so fast but you just couldnt seem to care.

satoru hovers your chest, his cock heavy on your lips and you open for him with tongue out, lashes wet, suguru still thrusting into you slow and deep and steady.

“fuck,” satoru breathes. “fuck, baby! just like that—"

you suck him in and he chokes on a deep, sensual groan.

his fingers curl in your hair as he starts to fuck your mouth, soft at first, like he’s afraid he’ll hurt you, but you whimper and gag and grip his thigh, and he loses it.

he starts moving faster, much deeper.

the wet sounds of your mouth around him mix with the slap of suguru’s hips against yours.

you’re being worshipped and all but consumed. you can’t speak, can’t even think, you’re just feeling, a vessel for their pleasure, full of their hands and cocks and pure, undying love.

because that’s what it is.

twisted and bruising.. but it’s love.

there's no possession, or violence. just two boys who’ve been obsessed with you for years, who would rather die than see you cry over someone who didn't deserve you again.

and when they both come, satoru across your tongue with a helpless sob, suguru deep inside you with a raw groan and a hand pressed over your heart, it feels like freedom.

this is what it feels like to be fucked loved right.

you lay there soaked while they pet your hair and whisper. “so good,” satoru smiles. “you were so fucking good."

“you always are,” suguru adds. “you’re ours.”

you’re not crying now, not quite. but your chest feels split open, nerves buzzing like something too big to hold is trying to crawl out. you can’t speak. can’t move. you just lay there, fucked full and coated in their cum, staring at the ceiling like it’s got answers hidden in the plaster cracks.

satoru takes note of your dazed expression. “hey,” he says softly, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “too much?”

you shake your head, but your mouth doesn’t cooperate.

suguru’s weight moves behind you, he’d curled around your back after they’d finished, warm and sticky yet safe. now he leans over you, his voice a low drawl in your ear. “you’re okay, you’re safe, baby. with us.”

you nod, a tiny tremble as satoru presses a kiss to your forehead. “let’s clean you up.”

they lift you gently, one arm under your knees, one around your back. satoru carries you to the bathroom while suguru turns on the shower, testing the temperature with his hand. steam curls around your skin, soft and warm.

they step in with you, satoru supports you against his chest, water running down both your bodies. suguru kneels in front of you with a washcloth, moving like he’s handling a painting or a prayer. “gonna clean you real gentle,” he says. “you did so good for us.” the first touch of the cloth between your legs makes you shiver.

“i know, i know,” suguru murmurs. “you’re sore. we’ll be careful.”

he’s not just washing, but caring for you as he dabs away the mess between your thighs. “look at how much we gave you,” he says softly, gazing up. “you took it all. every drop.”

you shudder, just a little, overwhelmed sound. satoru kisses your temple. “it's okay, baby. it's okay."

suguru cleans the rest of you up, at this point your entire being feels free of impurities, your soul, even. its like they’ve cracked your soul open and poured themselves inside.

you look up at them, blinking through tears and steam. “you don’t just want me for sex?” you whisper.

satoru makes a strangled sound and hugs you tighter. “jesus,” he breathes. “no, never.”

“we want all of you,” suguru says. "every inch of you, baby.” you bury your face in suguru's chest, he’s also a little shaky.

“you could fuck us a thousand times,” he says, voice cracking, “and we’d still just wanna talk to you. sit next to you and listen to you talk about anything and everything.”

“we wanna know you,” suguru says. “wanna ruin every memory you had with him, overwrite them.”

your heart breaks, but not from pain, or from pleasure, but from the terrifying, beautiful truth of being seen. being known.

suguru whispers, “you’re so good to us.” then satoru kisses your forehead. “you’re enough,” he says. “just like this.”

you fall asleep so warm, soothed down into unconsciousness by their arms. now, you’re silent between them.

suguru looks over you softly, and satoru is awake too. lying stiffly beneath you, eyes wide open and glassy in the moonlight. “you know she hasn’t fully broken up with him,” suguru whispers.

satoru’s face drops like a puppies “i know.”

“hm.”

satoru exhales, rubbing gently on your arm. “i just… i don’t wanna be a secret, y’know?” he says. “feels like i’m in middle school again. like i’ve got a crush on the most popular girl in school, and if anyone finds out, i’m gonna get laughed out of the room.”

“you’re not in middle school,” suguru mutters. “you’re in a bed with her.”

“i know. js' doesn’t feel real...i keep thinking,” he says softly, “what if she wakes up one day and regrets it?”

suguru doesn’t say anything. the thought has haunted him too. “what if this is just a rebellion?” satoru whispers.

“what if she’s just pissed at sukuna and we’re… convenient?”

“we’re not convenient,” suguru says. satoru lets out a short, bitter laugh. “she's been too vulnerable with us for this to just be convenient.”

"hm, i guess..."

“don't worry toru, everything is going to be alright,” suguru says. satoru nods and curls his arms tighter around you.

he presses his mouth to your hair. “i love you,” he whispers. not expecting an answer. just needing to say it. suguru’s hand smooths protectively over your stomach. “i do too,” he says. “always will.”

you stir a little, murmuring something incoherent in your sleep. satoru freezes and suguru holds his breath, but you don’t wake, just nuzzle closer.

your body knows where you’re safest.

~

you were back in your own orbit, mentally healing from the crash out with sukuna and using the memory of satoru and suguru to ground you to whatever schedule you were trying to stick to.

you were doing really well, things seemed a little less scary when you were alone nower days.

but, you know what they say about good things.

a disturbance from your daily note revision was interrupted by a loud knock. you open your dorm door half asleep, thinking it’s shoko or maybe choso coming to check in, your voice is groggy. “hey, who is it—”

“so you're fucking them?”

it’s sukuna. he storms inside without waiting, he smells like weed and sweat and pure and utter rage. when the door slams shut behind him, it rattles the frame. “answer me,” he snarls. “are you fucking gojo and geto?”

you blink, completely stunned. your heart jumps in your chest. “what are you even talking about?”

“don’t fuck around right now!” he growls, stalking closer. “don’t lie to me, i’m not stupid.”

“we're not a thing anymore sukuna why the fuck do you care?! you walked out on me!”

he scoffs, “you think that counts as a break up? did those words ever leave my fucking mouth?" he scoffs loudly. "god, you think i haven’t noticed? you've been walking around all chappy like, like you’ve been—” his mouth twists up in disgust, “—bred.”

you freeze.

“i didn’t want to believe it,” he spits. “but you’re fucking filthy. knew it the second i saw you the other night. knew something was wrong, you’ve got that look on your face, like you’ve been ruined, like some other dick already beat me there.”

“you’re out of your mind.” you roll your eyes.

“am i? am i?!” his voice ricochets off the walls. “how long has this been going on? how long you been sneaking around behind my back? letting those losers put their hands all over you? let them stretch you out like the whore you are?”

“don’t talk to me like that,” you say quietly, not matching his energy at all.

he laughs cruelly. “why not? isn’t that what you are now? a whore? letting two guys run a train on you like you’re fucking community pussy?”

you flinch like he’s hit you.

“what’d you do, huh? let them talk sweet to you?” he sneers, advancing again. “gojo tell you you’re pretty? geto say you’re ‘divine’ like he’s reading fucking poetry off your tits? is that all it took to turn you into a cheating slut?”

youre growing really sick of this degrading asshole, he opens his mouth again to choke out another quip, but you slap him, hard.

he doesn’t react, just wipes the corner of his mouth, then looks at you with a stare darker than fury.

“don't talk about them,” you say, voice trembling with rage. “they've treated me better in one night than you have this whole relationship.” you snarl.

“so that’s it, then?” his voice rises. “you let them rail you and now you’re in love? we're just over?”

“well yes? they actually give a shit about me."

he laughs again, but it breaks off. something flashes across his face, almost like pain. then: “they don’t care about you. they just wanted to see if they could fuck the golden girl. you’re nothing special, not once they’ve both had you.”

“you don’t know a thing about them.” you stand your ground, staring daggers into his eyes.

“i know they’re pathetic. i know they’re weak little virgins who’ve probably been jerking off to your instagram for years. and now what? they tag teamed you and whispered some sweet nothings while they watched each other fuck you? did you like that? getting split open like a pornstar, is that your thing now?”

you’re seething.

“i didn’t believe it,” he spits. “choso said you were glowing. said you were feeling good lately, didn’t even think twice. just figured maybe i’d finally gotten through to you, maybe you were actually starting to feel something. turns out you were getting it from them.” he shakes his head.

you take a breath, steadying yourself. “you never gotten through to me,” you say. “never even tried, so miss me with that bullshit.”

he snarls. “don’t fucking do that. don’t act like i didn’t care about you—"

“—you cared about you, sukuna. about being right. about being the one i came back to, even when you didn’t deserve me.”

his eyes widen with disbelief. “and they do?”

“they listen to me! they make me feel safe.”

he stares at you. his breathing is hard now, chest heaving. “so what, you gonna be their little girlfriend now? hold hands in the quad with your geeky little nerd boyfriends? gonna let them show you off like a piece of meat?”

“yeah, maybe,” you say. “maybe i will.”

he shakes his head. “you’re a fucking slut.”

you feel the blood drain from your face and he notices it. he sees the pain flash in your eyes. and for a second, just a small, fleeting moment, he looks like he regrets it.

you lift your chin. “don’t call me that.”

“why not?” he snaps. “it’s what you are now, isn’t it? playing perfect on campus while you get used like a fleshlight by the two weirdest freaks in the math building.”

“get out,” you whisper.

but he doesn’t move.

“get the fuck out!" you begin to yell, walking up on him until he backs up towards the door.

"you'll miss me." he tries to push, looking you dead in the eye as he smiles with that belittling glint.

“i missed you while we were still together, fuck face.”

silence.

"whatever. m' gone." and he turns, and he leaves.

"stay gone this time." you call out, slamming the door.

you don’t hear from sukuna again after that night. you thought maybe he’d show up the next day, demanding an apology, some groveling, some ridiculous admission that you were wrong to move on. but he doesn’t.

instead, from then on he starts showing up in other ways, on your feed, tagged in blurry stories from parties, surrounded by girls who don’t know better.

you hear through the grapevine that he’s been on a spree, sleeping around. saying shit like “i’m single now, guess i gotta make up for lost time,” with a smug little grin. even maki brings it up once, rolling her eyes. “he’s just a horny cunt. it’s pathetic.” you nod, sip your iced coffee.

“he’s trying to prove he doesn’t care,” choso adds. “but he does. it's fucking embarrassing.”

instead of replying you start filling that space sukun left with something else. ever since you finally broke shit off with him, you’ve been getting closer and closer to satoru and suguru, and not just physically anymore.

you're listening to them talk about their majors in the library as they help you with your marketing assignments.

you pose for suguru whenever he wants to draw you, his new folio of work was going to be centered around you this semester, apparently.

you'd sit in the middle of satoru's bed as suguru sat on the floor looking up at you, sketching lines. satoru would be busy typing away at his computer completing his homework. it was the kind of domestic bliss you'd always longed for in a partner, and in this case, partners.

on the weekends, the boys would take you out to pretty cafes, hidden spots where the lighting was perfect and the scenary was photographable. you'd put them to work taking various photos of you for instagram, saying you've been 'slacking off lately' because of them. "the fans need something to eat. after all, you two aren't my only ones, after all."

they just smile and count their lucky stars that they were able to help you curate the very thing they obsessed over not too long ago.

their dorm became the place to be, after parties you'd all crash out together in suguru's bed, tangled in the limbs of one another.

the boys staring became a normal thing, you'd always catch them looking at you, taking apart every movement you made. it was daunting at first, but now you knew it was just because they admired you so much.

it definitely made you feel special.

you go to another party the following friday. not one of choso’s this time, but a campus wide art show afterparty in some crumbling loft. suguru’s reading a short piece upstairs for his portfolio, and you cheer loudest in the crowd, earning a soft smile from the man.

satoru stands beside you in his hoodie and jeans, chewing his lip and looking like he’d throw hands for a single glance in your direction. afterward, you snap a photo of you sitting on a couch, a flash of suguru’s rings on your waist and satoru’s hand on your thigh. a caption that says, 'soft launch?' your comments go feral.

@/tysoc23: who is she with???

@/miamiamia she’s got secret lovers now?

@/innnoooo wish that was me.

every day you spend with them, your light gets brighter. you start studying with them more often in the campus chapel between classes, lying beside them in the pews while suguru reads out loud from his religion texts, you and satoru listen with fond expressions listening to him recite the scripture.

suguru smells like amber and ink, a smell you'd grown to adore.

every afternoon spent with satoru, he walks you across campus just to detour into the physics building to show you something dumb, a chalkboard equation that “reminds him of you,” because its so complicated yet beautiful, whatever the fuck that meant.

you cherished every second nevertheless.

he makes you laugh so hard your cheeks hurt. he always knows when you’re about to cry, even if you don’t.

they don’t push and they don’t ask for more than you’re ready to give. and yet, you want to give them everything.

satoru starts leaving one of his hoodies in your dorm becuas he knows how cold you get when they aren't there. suguru brings you incense and hangs it by your mirror. their things start to trickle in, little tokens, little bits and pieces.

one night, you fall asleep with your head on suguru’s chest and wake up to satoru’s fingers in your hair, his sleepy voice whispering something like, “she’s so perfect.” you pretend to still be asleep.

sometimes you wake up alone. sometimes you wake up tangled between them, your legs draped across suguru’s lap, satoru’s breath hot on your neck. and sometimes, on soft mornings, when the world is still, one of them will whisper that they like being your favorites.

you still don’t define it, but everyone, including the three of you, can tell you're a thing.

~

sukuna watches from the jealous, seething sidelines, and you know he was.

you catch him across campus sometimes, lingering too long when you walk by. you hear about the girls he’s sleeping with, the way he drinks too much now and picks fights with guys he used to ignore. you don’t feel anything for it anymore, pity, anger, jealousy, none of it.

it's just a good, fair distance.

~

a few weeks pass by of healing, love, friendship, all that lovely gooey shit.

you’re sitting at a tiny booth in a tucked away cafe, one of those old ones that still plays jazz from a radio and serves lattes in chipped ceramic mugs. your hands are wrapped around your cup, legs crossed under the table, suguru’s sketchbook open between you.

“this doesn’t look like me,” you tease, squinting at his latest drawing.

“it’s not you,” suguru murmurs, smirking faintly. “it’s the concept of you.”

“oh my god,” satoru groans from your other side, halfway through stealing the sweet foam from your latte with his spoon. “can we go five minutes without suguru seducing you with dumb art terminology?”

“i’m not seducing her,” suguru says, without looking up. “i’m studying her. for my project, duh.”

“same thing,” satoru mutters, dropping the spoon into your saucer and leaning over your shoulder. “let me see.”

you tilt the sketchbook so he can look. his chin brushes your temple and his breath is warm.

“whoa,” he says, genuinely awed. “she looks… weird but hot.”

suguru glances up and happily shrugs. “that’s what she is.”

you roll your eyes, but your smile is shy. “you guys are so weird.”

“and you like it,” satoru beams.

you bump your shoulder into his. “i guess.”

suguru just hums, pencil still moving. “you keep saying that like we didn’t catch you doodling our initials in your notebook last week.”

you go still. “…you went through my notebook?”

“you left it open.”

“that’s private!”

“you drew little hearts too,” satoru gasps. “and put my letters before his, you love me more!”

“i’m leaving.”

“you’re not,” suguru says calmly, flipping the page again. “you haven’t finished your drink.”

you fake roll your eyes, but genuinely, you've never felt more at ease.

the three of you orbiting each other so naturally, like this was always fated to happen.

you catch suguru’s eye, then he smiles at you softly. satoru tosses a sugar packet at you and sticks out his tongue. you laugh. and it’s good, more than good, actually. it's perfect.

you think you could do this forever, forever with these two insanely hot nerds who just so happen to be just as infatuated with you, as you are them.

forever intertwined with these people who look at you like you're made of gold.

you knew for the rest of your life, you were going to be deeply rooted in the narrative that was satoru and suguru, and god, not you, nor them, would have it any other way.

a/n i hope you liked this re-vamp! if you saw any typos... no you didn't. (i suck, ik i need to proofread plz don't throw tomatoes at mama)