my heart bleeds 4 u

total and utter brats is what sukuna was used to. girls with a big ego and an ever bigger attitude, but you? his new, adorably sweet girlfriend? you were quite literally the polar opposite of a brat, and he was about to figure that out real quick. 

he stomps with heavy and angry footing into the apartment, he was pissed off, like, really pissed off. some ass fuck at the gym decided to get all up in his face over him accidentally leaving a few plates on the deadlift bar, (something he never usually did, his mind was just filled with other stressful life shit.) so he pulled a few punches and that was that. 

that asshole figured out quite fast that sukuna's massive muscles weren't just for show. 

he let out a groan of pure frustration and anger as he stepped further into the apartment dulling any sort of positivity that dare disturb his ridiculous state of mind. 

you’re too occupied pottering around the tiny off campus apartment in your cute little socks and pretty sweater to notice his foul mood just yet. singing some beabadoobee song quietly to yourself while trying to plate up the dinner you'd made just for him. 

kuna always comes home hungry after hitting the gym, especially arms, so you decide to give him something nice and warm for when he gets home, y'know, like the great and loving girl you are?

you're about to pour him a glass of ice water when you hear the door shut just a little too aggressively. 

you can't help but flinch, not because you’re scared, but because you know that kind of sound. it’s the sound people makes when they're exhausted, frustrated, not very happy with the world. you were used to this energy from others, but you were yet to experience it from your boyfriend.

you peek your head around the corner.

“hey, ryo.” you say in that soft, dainty voice he still hasn’t fully gotten used to. the one that normally made him melt into a puddle of gooey love and adoration, but right now all it does is remind him he’s tired and really agitated. “i got dinner all ready for you, love.”

he grunts, that’s it. a grunt. 

he chucks his duffle bag down on the couch, wipes his hand down his face and mutters something under his breath about 'fuckwits at the gym.' you try to ignore the obvious annoyance in his voice and shyly tiptoe back into the kitchen then bring him a pink plate full of dinner, holding it in both of your precious hands, offering it to him like a gift you'd made just to cheer him up. 

and then he decides to turn into the biggest dick face on the planet, too frustrated to be civil, apparently.

with no sort of preparation or hesitancy, he sharpens his deep red eyes at you and crosses his biceps over his chest.

“th' fucks this supposed to be?”

you stiffen up a lil. “it's… your dinner?”

you watch as his eyes fall darker and his fists clench. “what? you know i don’t eat before i shower. you put the whole thing together just to let it get cold?”

you'd never been talked to this carelessly by sukuna before... your eyes get the tiniest bit glossy, but you try to fight it off as best you can. “i… i thought you’d want it now because you always say you’re starving when you get back…” you whisper.

“yeah? well, today i’m not fucking hungry.” his voice rises in a way it never has with you. a way he used to talk to girls who’d scream right back at him, get in his face, throw something at the wall. “god, do you ever listen?”

"i- i'm sorry... i just thought-"

"wow? thinking for once? didn't know your dumb little head was capable of that." 

you could physically feel your throat pulling tight, it burned to breathe through his venomous insult.. 

“honestly, the last thing i need right now is some damn girl trying to play house with me after i've just worked my ass off all day, it's fucking annoying,” he shoots, beginning to pace, ignoring the way your face contorted into that adorable yet heart crushing pout. 

'some damn girl?...' was that all you were to him?..

he’s not looking at you. he’s talking at you, like you’re just another outlet for whatever’s eating at him. this big, loud, overwhelming presence filling your little apartment with his booming voice rising and rising with each word, and you can’t even process half the things he’s saying because your brain is doing that fuzzy weird panicy thing. you don’t know whether to get up or stay still or just disappear on the spot forever..

you're silently listening, but he just keeeeps on going.

"you think i want you shoving shit in my face the second i get home?! let me take a damn break for once in my life, woman!”

behind your ribcage you can feel the crack, crack, crack, of your heart with each piece falling into your stomach and smouldering into a thick ash, like you were an insignificant bug that wasn't worth this man's time. 

and it’s right there in the silence that something finally flickers in his stupidly ignorant brain.

because this is the part where someone should yell back, where someone should tell him to go fuck himself, or throw the plate down, or call him an asshole, or storm out. or anything!

you just stand there ever so sadly, you hold your arms around your body like they might save you from the stomach pains you'd suddenly gotten, the feeling of immense guilt for making him more angry than he already was. 

you're stuck staring down at the floor, your eyes feel hot and so full of tears as you gently whisper out the softest and heartfelt apology sukuna thinks he's ever heard in his fucked up life..

ryo's ready to yell something completely unnecessary and rude because he’s still riding the high of adrenaline from lifting too much and dealing with that asshole at the gym today. he’s still acting like he’s dealing with someone who’ll fight him tooth and nail, not his pretty little girl who's easier to rattle than a maraca.

your lashes flutter with wet tears and your pouty lip wobbles, you set the plate down carefully on the counter before your hands can shake too hard and it smashes on the floor.

and then you look up at him.

you look at him like you’re scared you'd messed up big time, like you’re scared you hurt him or made him upset in any way. like you’re scared he might walk away, abandon you. like all of this was your fault.

this is about where sukuna starts to feels like his heart had just been flipped over and fucked in the ass by a 6"3 rugby champ. 

he didn’t even know it was humanly possible for his chest to sink into the pits of fiery hell that fast. like, physically, his heart plummets to his feet. 

“sweetheart,” he says, but it’s too late. he can already see the tears filling up your eyes as you wrap your arms around yourself tighter than before, so small and so nervous.

“i... i’m really sorry,” you whisper again, voice cracking in that heart stabbing kind of way. “i didn’t mean to make you mad, i was just trying trying to help, i thought you’d be hungry and.. i'm so sorry, it won't happen again."

your voice cuts off as you wipe at your cheeks, embarrassed at the tears that keep falling so freely down your flushed cheeks.

and then, before he can even take a step toward you to console, you beat him to it.

you walk right up to his big, stupid, irritated self and gently wrap your arms around his waist, like you’re apologizing to him even though you didn’t do anything wrong. 

your cheek presses against his chest, soft and warm and trusting, yet still so small and scared..

all that rage and tension drains out so fast he actually gets lightheaded. he didn’t notice. god, he didn’t realise! he was yelling. at you. his pretty girl, his soft girl. 

the only girl he’s ever dated who doesn’t treat every fucking conversation like a competition. the girl who holds his hand with two hands because his palm is so big. the girl who apologises when someone bumps into her. the girl who triple checks she's not burdening someone before she starts speaking. the girl who’d never raise her voice at him, even if he deserved it.

you huff and puff in uneven spouts against his chest, softly like you’re giving him space to push you off if he wants to. you whisper again in a smaller voice than before.

“i’m sorry. i’m really sorry, ryo. i didn’t mean to ruin your day.”

he feels something sting horribly behind his eyes and he hates it, because he never cries. never. not for breakups, not for fights, not for injuries. but this? this is different. this is you. and realising he scared you or hurt you, even in some tiny emotional way, is making him physically ache with the pain of a thousand knifes stabbing his chest over and over and over..

“baby, no. no, no, no, you didn’t do anything wrong. i’m the one who’s being a fucking idiot. i shouldn’t have yelled. i shouldn’t have even raised my voice at you, baby.. shit.”

you can feel his biceps crushing you tighter. he’s huge and so warm, yet trembling in the tiniest way, like he’s holding himself together with the sheer willpower of not letting you see him too broken. 

you sniff against his pec, trying to steady yourself, because you’ve never heard him sound like this before, so guilty and worried.

his voice cracks, cracks as he tries to spew out another line of consolement, and when you blink up at him, there are salty tears at the corners of his eyes. massive, scary, ryomen sukuna falling apart while hugging you, a soft and quiet little thing.

you just shake your head against him, heavy little sobs shaking your shoulders. “i’m sorry i messed up. i’m sorry you had a bad day and i made it worse.”

oh he’s the worst man alive. actually the worst. he can feel it in his bones.

“baby…” his voice cracks again and he hates it but he can’t stop it. “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

you cling a little tighter, like you’re scared he’s gonna pull away. that alone almostmakes him sob hysterically on the spot.

your voice comes out all wobbly. “i just… i don’t want you to be mad at me.”

that’s the moment sukuna’s entire psyche caves in on itself and implodes indefinitely. 

“god, y/n,” he whispers. “i’m so, so sorry.”

the apartment goes still and quiet for a good minute before you can whisper out, “it’s okay...”

“no,” he says immediately,“ no, it’s not. i shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, sweetheart. i shouldn’t have said any of that. i just… i had a shitty day and i was being a dick. that’s on me. you didn’t make anything worse.”

“but you seemed so upset…”

“oh my love, not at you.” he swallows “never at you, baby. i swear.”

your fingers contract into the back of his muscle shirt, holding on so gently it rips at his fragile soul, though, your tears have almost stopped. 

he squeezes you harder, he’s not letting you go until he’s sure you're really okay.

“you’re… you’re really precious to me,” he whispers into your hair, the words tumbling out before he can stop them, way too honest for how he normally talks. “i don’t ever wanna scare you. i don’t ever wanna make you cry because of me.”

you move to peek up at him with those big watery eyes, and he absolutely breaks down for the fourth time that night. he feels the liquid in his own eyes and tries to blink it away, but nope. a tear slips down anyway.

your breath catches. “ryo…? d-did i make you upset?- i'm so sorry!”

he shakes his head quickly, gripping the back of your head as he tucks you back under his chin. “you didn't do anything, y/n. just don’t look at me right now,” he mutters. “just… let me hold you.”

you mumble a quick “okay.”

your gentle response calms him more than anything else ever has.

his arms slip under your thighs and your back in one careful swoop, lifting you off the floor like you weigh less than air, because to a colossal guy like kuna, you do. 

you let out a noise of surprise and curl into his arms on instinct, holding onto his shirt as he carries you through the little apartment, the whole 9 yards of princess treatment.

“cmon angel,” he mumbles against your forehead in a sweet kiss, “let’s get you in bed.”

he pushes the bedroom door open with his foot and stands next to the bed, lowering you onto the mattress as gently as he possibly can. the second your back hits the sheets he reaches for the blanket and tucks it around you so fast and frantic you almost giggle. he’s acting like he's scared you’re gonna get cold or crumble into star dust if he doesn’t wrap you up right this second.

“stay here, sweetheart,” he says while brushing the pad of his thumb across your cheek. “i’m gonna eat your dinner real quick and shower and then i’m coming right back. don’t move.”

you nod with your body engulfed under the blankets, and he gives you one last kiss on the cheek before heading back out.

it’s almost funny how different the apartment sounds now, he’s trying to be quiet. him. the guy built like a tank who normally stomps around like godzilla. you hear the plate clink, hear the microwave door shut, hear him crushing to himself like he’s scolding his own reflection, which he should be. then you hear the shower switch on, and everything is chaotic as if he’s racing against some imaginary clock because you’re alone in the bed for more than five minutes and that simply will not do for sukuna.

you hear the bathroom door whip open.

he’s back in seconds with his salmon hair damp and a white tank top thrown on crooked, water still beaded on his fair skin because he didn’t even bother drying properly. he climbs onto the bed quickly, grabbing you like he needs to feel you to be happy and content with his life.

your back hits his chest as he pulls you right onto his lap and you can just tell he's feeling possessive and territorial.

“hey baby.. are you okay?”

you nod softly, but he shushes you anyway.

“it’s alright,” he smiles, kissing the side of your neck. “you don’t gotta say anything. i got you.”

his hand rubs little circles over your hip bones with the other sliding up to hold your jaw with this gentle care no one would ever believe he’s capable of, ever. your tears dried a long while ago, but he still treats you like you’re a precious gem. he rocks you a little in his lap, soothing you like it’s instinct.

“you’re so beautiful, yknow that?” he whispers suddenly, voice hushed like he’s telling you a secret not meant for the rest of the world. “so damn beautiful and sweet and good. you’re… y/n, you’re so perfect.”

you feel your cheeks heat up and he smiles against your skin, just barely.

“i mean it,” he says again, burying his face into your shoulder. “you’re precious to me, baby. so precious i don’t even know what to do with myself sometimes.”

you lean back into him a little more and your hands settle over his wrists. he squeezes you immediately like he’s scared he imagined the whole thing and he might be in some lucid dream still yelling at you.

his voice drops even lower, so soft you almost miss it.

“you’re it for me,” he murmurs. “you hear me? you’re it. i’m done with dating. i’m yours for the rest of my damn life.”

you blush deeply and hide your face in your hands at how bold he's being. 

“i’m never talking to you like that again,” he says quietly. “never yelling. never making you cry. i’m not losing you because i don’t know how to deal with my dumbass moods. you’re too important to me.”

your fingers slide over his hand, giving it the cutest squeeze and he just melts behind you. melts completely with his chest going all gooey and soft. 

“you’re my girl,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. “forever, or for as long as you’ll have me, baby."

he rocks you gently again, humming in his throat while his hands smooth and stroke over you like he’s memorising the shape of you.

he presses one last kiss to your cheek.

“sleep, angel,” he breathes. “i’m not going anywhere.”

sukuna was used to dating brats, the ones who threw tantrums and screamed like banshees in his face, but now he had you. and he knew in his heart that this whole time he was missing out on the pure bliss that was a calm and sweet relationship, with you. 

never in his life had sukuna shed a tear over a girl, but tonight he did. he let a few slip because he couldn't handle the thought of making precious little you feel any sort of negative emotion, and he wasn't even trying to hide it. that how much you meant to sukuna, how soft you'd turned him.

and he was damn well never going back.

I am not the owner, all work belongs to sixxels(deactivated)

he hooks his arms under your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed, making you yelp softly in surprise. he just takes a moment to admire your beautiful self laid beneath him, your sweet doe eyes batting your eyelashes at him that has his heart doing flips.

his fingers graze your cheek tenderly, his eyes moving down to your glossy lips as he whispers, "you look so adorable, my love." a light blush creeps on your face, as you look away and then suddenly all too aware that you're being recorded. you shift slightly under his touch, turning your head away so that the camera doesn't catch you.

nanami's lips curl into a gentle smile as he places a finger under your chin to make you look at him. "don't hide that pretty face of yours, darling," he says. "i want to see you."

your face only grows darker but you nod — the whole idea was yours anyway and even though you are now feeling awfully shy, you want this as much as him.

he moves on top of you, his shirt already discarded somewhere in the room, which lets you ogle at his toned muscles. he sees how you stare at him which makes him blush now — no matter how many times you two have had sex, he can't help feeling so coy under your gaze.

his lips find yours in a sweet kiss, moving slow and tender, savouring the way you taste on his tongue and lips. he rests his hand under your neck, pulling you in deeper and closer as your arms drape over his neck. a quiet hum leaves him, the tent in his sweats growing and brushing against your thighs.

"can i take off my pants, sweetheart?," he asks in between kissing you. he still always asks for your permission before doing anything. he feels so wrong if he doesn't.

you nod, your fingers tracing lines over his chest, circling near his nipples. it's one of the most sensitive parts of him and you love the way he tries to hold the little whimpers that come out of him. you softly rub his perked up buds quite suddenly and his body trembles above you, quiet honeyed moans leaving him. "sweetheart," he whispers. "that feels so good."

you continue your ministrations, revelling in the way he feebly whimpers in your ear. his hands roam over your body, finding purchase on your boobs. he palms them in his large hand, giving them a few squeezes here and there as you flick your fingers over his nipples.

he's grinding his hips on your sopping core, pre leaking from his tip and staining his boxers. he unlatches his lips from yours to quickly shimmy his sweats off and throws them aside before continuing to rub his shaft over your wet clothed cunt.

he gets himself off of you and kneels down in front of the bed, pulling you towards him with your pretty pussy in front of his face. he looks back at the camera, positioning you in a way that makes it so that you're on display. once he's happy with how you are, he runs his fingers over your panties, feeling your wetness. he lets out a content groan before pushing your panties to the side, your glistening core so enticing.

"always so pretty for me," he coos, more so to your pussy than to you. his fingers go up and down your slit a few times which makes you tremble slightly. he smirks to himself as he pushes in one, two digits into you, stretching you out. you moan as he does so, gripping the sheets beneath you while he slides his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace.

he brings his mouth to your core, licking a few slow strips on it, groaning at how sweet you taste. his fingers and tongue work deliciously on your candied core and he's making the most obscene and pornographic noises as he does so. you're mewling cutely as he eats you out, your thighs squishing the sides of his head. "oh yes!," you whine, tugging on his hair. "j-just like that, nana."

'nana.' he finds your nickname for him so adorable that it just has him ravaging on you, spit dribbling from his mouth, drenching what's beneath you. you're squirming and crying out his little nickname, completely blissed out from the pleasure.

nanami has always been so good at taking care of you, it truly boggled your mind when he first ate you out. from then on, you were addicted — yet he was so much more when it came to eating you out. it's as if he lived to serve you.

he feels you clenching around his digits, your moans getting louder and higher, indicating your climax is nearing. "you gonna cum for me, darling?," he purrs, suckling your clit and drinking you all in. your grip on his hair tightens and at this point, you're the one in control, bobbing his head up and down while his flattened tongue is on your sweet core. his eyes peer up at you and he sees your pretty face, moaning out his name as you come undone on his face.

"mmm, always so good f'me," he praises, popping his fingers out of you and placing dove-like kisses along your inner thighs. you're still trembling as you come down from your high and he runs his hands on your thighs to help you calm down.

"ken?," you muse, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at him. he hums in acknowledgment as he rises from in between your thighs to give you a kiss to your temple, the simple gesture being a way to tell you that you did amazing.

it takes a few moments to get yourself to ask the question — "do you wanna try doing it without a condom?"

his eyes go wide, more pre leaking from his tip and the stain on his boxers growing bigger. he takes in a harsh gulp, the idea of getting to feel you raw around him making him dizzy. "you sure about that, love?," he asks, leaning down to press a trail of kisses on your neck.

"yes, i'm sure," you say breathily, tilting your head to the side so that he has more area to kiss. "i've wanted to try it for a while now."

"okay darling," he says as coolly as he can, trying not to show just how much he's been dying to do this with you. he takes in a deep breath before he removes his boxers, his thick cock slapping against his abdomen, heavy and leaking.

he takes a quick glance at the camera that's still recording you two to see how you look and gosh, you're stunning. "do you want to change the angle of the camera or anything?," he asks, hovering above you.

you contemplate his question for a bit and then a teeny smile crosses your face. he quirks an eyebrow at your expression and he's just about to ask you what you were thinking but you're already getting up from the bed and grabbing the camera from where it was standing. you tell him to lay on his back as you straddle him, the camera still in your hand.

you give the camera over to him and say in your sweet, meek voice, "you can video me. if you like."

he feels his cock twitch at the thought and he agrees in a heartbeat. he turns to the camera to point at you, adjusting it so that it can take you all in. "start whenever you like, sweetheart," he muses, giving you a little thumbs up. the gesture makes you giggle — this dorky man.

you line yourself with his cock which is leaking with pre. you use your thumb to spread it around, making him mewl softly at your touch. the camera is pointing right at your entrance, his wet tip just grazing over it. you slowly lower yourself down on him and the moment you do, both of you moan out at the delicious feeling. you can feel every vein and ridge on his girthy dick and he can feel your warm, syrupy walls suck him in.

"fuck," he hisses, almost losing control of the device in his hands. "'s too good. feels too good."

"mhm," you whine, sinking yourself onto him until he's completely in there. he has to try so, so hard not to cum in you right then and there. you lightly roll your hips against his, intoxicated with how you can feel him all around you. he's letting low grunts, biting on his lips so hard he could bleed. but he just wants to make sure that the camera captures your sweet noises more than his own.

"oh, just like that," he says, one hand now coming to grip your sides to help you move on him. you're letting out such cute noises and your tits are bouncing a little with every movement.

nanami feels like he's losing his mind — he doesn't know if he should look at you directly or look at you through the camera, feeling like he's spoiled for choice; and the way you're squeezing his dick has him nearly rolling his eyes to the back of his head.

you begin to lift your hips up and come crashing down on him, doing it in a steady rhythm. you raise your hips off of him until he's almost all the way out, just his tip inside of you. you stay that way for a few moments before you take him all in again, and that has him groaning prettily as you do so. your walls seem to clench him tighter and it feels all too much for him.

"so beautiful," he coos, pointing the camera to get a glimpse of your cutely contorted face as you moan his name out over and over again.

a blush taints your face, creeping down to your neck as you ride him, the room filling with both of your salacious moans and the smacking of your hips coming down on his own. your hands come to cup your boobs, rubbing over your nipples, your moans louder and needier. he tilts the camera upwards to capture the beautiful view in front of him and he is restraining himself so much, it's beginning to make him feel fuzzy and lightheaded.

"baby," he groans lowly. "can you- can you get on all fours f'me?"

you smile charmingly as you get off of him and comply to his request. you arch your back gorgeously for him, your slick puffy core on display. he groans at the sight, getting up to be on his knees behind you. he films your cute ass, rubbing it and giving it a few spankings that has you jolting forward. sometimes nanami forgets how strong he is.

he takes his free hand, pumping his cock a few times that's smeared with your arousal. he rubs his tip on your dripping slit before pushing himself back into you, letting out a string of curses as he feels your velvety walls mould around his cock. "god, you feel so good sweetie," he grunts, snapping his hips into you.

you lurch forward with each of his rough thrusts, your hands fisting the sheets beneath you. "ken ken ken!," you cry, the most dulcet of moans tumbling from your lips. his hips ram into you — thwack! thwack! thwack! — your ass rippling with each hit and lines of your arousal connecting with the base of his cock.

"such a good girl," he growls, bringing the camera over where you and him meet, capturing the way he ruts into you at a relentless pace. "always such a good girl f'me."

he lifts his head up and his jaw goes slack when he sees what's in front of him. unknowingly, you had positioned yourself to face the mirror where he could see the way your eyes are fluttering and how your mouth is agape as the prettiest moans come out of it.

he raises the camera to shoot the sexy and hot sight before him. oh, he begins to go crazy. his strokes are mean, rough, languid as he videos you from the mirror, completely in awe at how fucked out you look for him. he's sure you don't even know he can see you like this because you're just so dumbed out with the feel of his length inside of you — his fat head kissing your g-spot repeatedly and your velvety walls cinching around him.

"you like that huh?," he grouses and starts to babble mindlessly. "like how i fuck you, don't you? such a pretty little thing for me. taking me so well every time. you take me so well, baby."

"yes yes yes!," you whine out, not even truly taking in everything he's saying because of how deliciously he's fucking you. "you're so good t'me, ken!"

"yes i am," he chuckles with a smug smirk on his face, slamming his hips into yours but the pace sloppier and needier now. he's getting closer to his climax and the way your pussy is fluttering around him, he can tell you are too.

"where do you want me to cum, baby?," he asks, his pace not slowing down in the slightest. it's getting increasingly harder for him to keep the camera steady, to keep videoing you.

"inside please," you wail, arching your back further. an almost guttural groan erupts from deep within his chest as he bang, bang, bangs into you, and soon enough he's unloading into you, painting your walls white with his hot seed. your pussy spasms around his shaft, milking him dry and milking him for what he's worth.

"fuck," he hisses as he pulls out of you. the camera catches your quivering form and how his cum is dripping out of you. he bites his lip at the view. he uses two of his fingers to shove it all back into you, not allowing a drop to go to waste. you whimper adorably as he stuffs you full of himself, your pussy doing its best to suck it all in.

with the camera still in one of his hands, he uses his free one to help you flip over on your back and lets it take you all in — your chest rising up and down as you try to catch your breath and you looking so adorable in your lingerie set despite the sheen of sweat coating your body. "you are so beautiful, my love," he whispers, hand trailing up your body to your face, cupping it gently.

safe to say, whenever nanami is away from you for too long, he always has this little video in hand. he fists his cock so pathetically, just wishing it was you around him instead.

© dollychou

I am not the owner, all work belongs to dollychou(deactivated)

Your eyes flutter half open at the noise, hair a mess. “...Huh?”

“Don’t ‘huh’ me!” He says, pointing an accusatory finger. “You cheated!”

Your brain takes a full five seconds to process that. “...What?”

“I saw you! You were talking to another man!”

You blink at him. “Satoru,” you say slowly, “were you dreaming?”

He hesitates. “...Maybe. But that’s not the point!”

“Oh no, it’s definitely the point.” You say, sitting up now, squinting. “You were dreaming of a man while I’m right here?”

His mouth drops open. “Wait, what? No, I-”

“YOU were dreaming of a man...” Your eyes widen dramatically, as if the realisation just hit you like a truck. “Satoru... are you... gay?”

“What?! No!”

“You don’t want me anymore, is that it? You’re dreaming about men now? Was it-” You gasp loudly “- was it Suguru? I knew it! I knew you had something for him-!” You snap your fingers.

He looks personally attacked. “WHAT?! No, baby, he’s my friend!”

“Oh my god.” You whisper, lips quivering. “You wanna go be his boyfriend and leave me all alone, don’t you?”

He scrambles, eyes wide as he moves to cradle your face reasuringly. “No no no, baby, I would never! I love you. Only you. Please, believe me-”

You stare at him for a long, dramatic second. Then you smile as sweet as an angel, dropping the act. “Oh okay, baby. I believe you. Goodnight.”

You flop back down, tug the blanket up, and close your eyes like nothing happened.

Satoru exhales out a sigh. “Thank god.” He mumbles, relieved to have made it out of that alive, before settling back beside you. “Goodnight, baby.”

The corner of your mouth quirks up just slightly. A few seconds of silence. Then:

“…Wait a second.”

You burst out laughing.

you were not supposed to meet him. that was the first problem. or maybe the first miracle, depending on how you frame it.

you’d been in heaven to cause trouble that day. a task your father had often sent you to do, simply to fuck with his old pal, god. it was nothing out of the ordinary. you had planned on stealing a few bottles of holy water, plucking grapes and apples from the gardens, taunting whatever cherubs were unfortunate enough to be on duty that night. you weren’t stupid; you knew the borders between heaven and hell were closely guarded, but you were fast, clever, and demons didn’t get their reputations by following rules.

except when you turned around with a mouth full of grapes, you were met not with an outraged cherub or some faceless soldier, but him.

satoru gojo. god’s golden boy. the strongest angel heaven had. “the honored one” was his nickname. his massive wings so bright they nearly blinded you, a halo sharp as a blade, six glowing blue eyes prettily scattered across his gorgeous body that seemed to stare right through you.

you should’ve been terrified. instead, your first thought was ‘wow, he’s hot.’

you thought you’d be smote on the spot. instead, he cocked his head, gave you a grin that was far too smug for someone so sacred, and said,

“you know you’re not supposed to be here, right? unless you’re trying to get smote, in which case, congrats, i’m your guy.”

you blinked, swallowed your grape, and smirked. “guess that makes two of us. neither of us is supposed to be here.“

it’s true, the gardens were only to be touched by the caretakers. not even god’s finest angels were allowed near, no matter how much he trusted them. not after adam and eve.

he’d laughed, his smile so white and blinding. he was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. and in that moment, you realized then that you might actually be in danger—but not from getting smote.

from falling in love.

“ya know, i’d say im right where i’m meant to be. wouldn’t you agree, sweetheart?”

you pop another grape into your mouth, glaring at the incredibly sexy man before you. was he really flirting with you? a devil? the very thing he’s supposed to hate and kill?

and though your demonic instincts screamed run but your heart said otherwise with an evil thump thump of your heart.

“aren’t angels supposed to be busy? protecting people…not standing around flirting with demons?” you said, tilting your head out of genuine curiosity.

“ah,” he said, wings flicking lazily, like he wasn’t a weapon of god but some overgrown bird. “so you admit there’s some chemistry between us.”

“…shut up,” you muttered, cheeks heating.

and that was five years ago. somehow, you’ve been shutting him up (or trying to) ever since.

he’s the strongest, cocky as hell, and somehow head over wings for you, his devilish girlfriend. your secret romance has danced under heaven’s nose and hell’s gossip, your father is far too busy planning heaven’s demise and god’s either oblivious or too amused to care, because satoru’s still strutting around with his six eyes glowing, and you’re still lighting up hell’s lower districts with your antics.

regardless, you two were in love. and for someone who was supposed to be god’s special creation, he had no problem be a little sinner just for you.

but the first time he held your hand, he genuinely thought he was going to instantaneously burst into flames.

you’d been sitting on the edge of heaven, leather skirt hiked up, legs draped over satoru’s lap as he lounges like he owns the place. he’s too damn pretty for his own good. the clouds thin and you can just barely see the orange glow of hell shimmering below. it was your usual spot for secret meetups: far enough from the other angels, close enough to danger that you felt alive.

you leaned back, propped on your hands, and gave him a sidelong glance. satoru’s wings were half-folded, ocean blue six eyes glimmering lazily. he didn’t look like a soldier of heaven. he looked like…a challenge. your favorite.

so you slipped your fingers into his.

he jerked slightly, looking down, then up, then up even higher, like maybe god was staring.

“please, lord, forgive me. fraternizing with a succubus might just be my greatest sin yet.” he said, taking a deep breath.

“oh please, you love it, mr. honored one.” you teased, tail brushing his ankle.

he chuckled, that annoying, charming laugh that makes your heart stutter.

he leaned in, all cocky confidence. “mmhm, i do. my evil little temptress.”

you blushed, whacking him lightly with your tail. “don’t get too full of yourself, feathers.”

“too late,” he said, pulling you closer until your thighs pressed against his. “i’m the strongest, remember? i suppose i can handle a little devilish distraction.” his lips brushed your ear, voice dropping. “or a lot. depends what you wanna get up to.”

you rolled your eyes, but kissed him quick, tasting his smugness. he hummed as his lips moved against yours, delighted, halo flickering like a spotlight.

he pulled away, pecking your lips quickly before he opened his eyes to look at you, “but no seriously. you’re testing me here,” he muttered.

you grinned. “what, this? toru, it’s just holding hands. not burning down a church.”

“hm,” he said, squeezing once, reluctantly. “tell that to the big guy upstairs. i’m pretty sure this is at least a venial sin. maybe a mortal one.“

you laughed. “oh really, god’s favorite pretty boy, a sinner? for holding my hand?”

“it’s not just your hand,” he said dramatically, lifting your joined fingers into the air. “it’s the hand of the most dangerous succubus in hell. devil’s daughter. that’s gotta be worth, like…ten points off my angel license.”

you shoved him with your shoulder, laughing so hard you nearly toppled off the cloud. “you’re so dramatic.”

“me?” he gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. “dramatic? i’m literally an angel, babe. choirs sing when i breathe. my life is dramatic.”

“your life is annoying,” you corrected.

he smirked, leaned closer, and whispered, “and i, satoru gojo, am annoyingly crazy about you.”

your laugh caught in your throat. and you hated him, just a little, for how easily he could make your face burn hotter than hellfire.

when satoru decided it was time for you to visit his place, it was bold. even for him. despite his whole brand being just that. you were so sure it was all prank—a succubus in the pearly gates? in god’s special little angel’s home? surely he’s joking, you thought.

but no, not even a little.

he took you to his quarters in heaven, and you expected them to be sterile—cold marble, empty halls, some annoying harp soundtrack in the background. classic angel shit. instead, it was absurdly grand. walls of gold, curtains spilling down like waterfalls, light glowing from nowhere and everywhere.

you whistled low. “wow. compensating much?”

he turned, halo tilted at an obnoxious angle. “hey. don’t hate the player, hate the divine hierarchy, sweetheart. perks of being god’s favorite.”

“you like being called that, don’t you?”

he grinned. “duh, obviously.”

but after a while, you started shivering. heaven wasn’t warm like hell—it was crisp, still, almost too pure. you shivered, rubbing your arms, your skimpy leather outfit no match for it. you glared when he noticed.

“you cold, baby?” he asked, smirking.

“no,” you lied, teeth chattering.

“mhmm. my poor little devil-cake can’t handle some fresh air?” he pouted playfully. teasing you with his annoying baby talk and that stupid nickname he gave you since he loved sweets way too much for someone who constantly recited the seven deadly sins, like they’re the law. coincidentally forgetting gluttony from time to time.

you groaned. “i swear if you—”

but before you could finish, his wings unfurled, and in a swift, practiced motion, they folded around you both. massive, glowing, radiating warmth.

you blinked, stunned. “oh.”

“that better?” he asked, chin resting on your head.

“…you planned this,” you grumbled, tucking yourself into his chest.

“guilty,” he sang, kissing your hair. “worth the sin, though.”

“whatever, you big show-off.” you nuzzled him, smirking. “bet the other angels are jealous i get to bang you.”

“jealous? they were probably praying for my soul right now!” he laughed, those extra eyes on his wings glowing brighter. “but who cares? you’re mine, and i’m yours. adultery is a sin, ya know.”

you chuckled and kissed his jaw.

he groaned playfully, “lord, save me from this temptation,” but his hands slid to your waist, pulling you tighter, halo pulsing with delight.

but sneaking satoru into hell was something completely different. your den was a sultry cave of red velvet, black candles, and flickering flames. you had prepped—wine (stolen of course), dim lights, and a crimson lingerie set that was all lace and sin, hugging your curves like a second skin. you posed at the door, wrapped up in a pretty red robe, tail swaying.

“welcome to my evil lair, angel.” you said playfully.

he stepped in, and his six eyes widened, halo flickering like a strobe light.

“cozy,” he said, surveying your chaos with a raised brow.

“don’t lie. you’re judging me.” you pouted.

“me? never. lying is a sin and only god could judge, babe. i was just…wondering how many OSHA violations this place has. like, all of them.”

you rolled your eyes, stepped closer, and let your robe fall.

his face flushed, that cocky grin faltering as he adjusted his armor.

“holy—uh, unholy—what are you wearing?”

“like it?” you spun, letting the firelight catch the lace, your tail curling around your thigh. “picked it out just for you, baby.”

he clapped a hand over his face seeing that it was crotchless. his ears went red. his wings twitched violently.

“oh my god.” then he paused, eyes darting up and around like god actually heard him. “uh—don’t tell him i said that.”

you chuckled, stepped even closer, satoru stepping back unknowingly towards your bed.

he choked, wings twitching, extra eyes blinking rapidly. “i mean— that’s…wow. indecent does’t even cover it. are you trying to kill me, babe?”

“maybe.” you sauntered closer, smirking as his knees bumped your mattress. “c’monn, look at me, toru. appreciate the effort.”

his gaze locked on you, pupils blown, and he was a mess—charming, annoying, and so down bad.

“you’re supposed to be the strongest, right? can’t even handle a little lace, hmmm?” you said with a tilt of your head, voice evil and sweet.

“strongest angel,” he muttered, hands trembling where they hovered at your waist. “weakest boyfriend.”

“pathetic,” you teased, leaning closer. you pressed against him, feeling his rock hard chest, the heat of him electric.

“wanna see just how much trouble i can cause?” you whispered, claws teasing his skin.

he groaned, loud and dramatic, as you pushed him onto your bed, straddling him. his wings flared, knocking over candles, wax splattering as he muttered,

“lord, i’m doomed!” he cried out dramatically, as if god would save him.

you chuckled, grinding down on his lap. “he’s not listening all the way down here, silly.”

you peeled off the rest of his armor, revealing that stupidly perfect body, those extra eyes on his chest blinking at you.

“like what you see, sweetheart?” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“shut up,” you laughed, kissing him hard, tongue claiming his.

his hands gripped your plush ass, pulling you closer as you ground, friction igniting you both. you slid back just enough to free him, and settle between his thighs, stroking his length. thick and long with a pretty pink tip leaking pre.

“you look so pretty like this, baby.” you said, giving his weeping cock gentle kitten licks, eyes locked on his.

he bucked, moaning, “you— you’re evil, babe.”

“i know.”

you took him in your mouth, tongue swirling, savoring his gasps and groans, his wings trembling.

you took him deeper, hollowing your cheeks, spit dripping down your chin. satoru was malfunctioning. a hand flew to your hair, not to guide you but simply to ground himself.

“please,” he begged. “need…fuck—sorry—more”

you giggled around his length, pulling your lips off his cock with a wet pop. you quickly sat up, shedding the lingerie before lining yourself up and sinking onto him, the two of you moaning as he filled you, so hot and deep. velvety walls clamped down around his cock.

he thrust up, hands guiding your hips, extra eyes glowing as you rode him, claws marking his chest.

“shit—sorry— you feel so good, baby” he moaned, helping you bounce harder on him.

“feels so good, toru!” you whined as your hips ground down, clit catching that soft patch of white on his pelvis, adding to the friction.

his wings wrapped around you, making you feel so safe.

eventually, you crawled off of him, his painfully hard dick slipping out of you and slapping against his chest, covered in both your arousal.

“huh?! what—“

“like this.” you said, getting on all fours in front of him. you wiggled your ass, turning around with a devilish smile.

in that moment, you don’t think you’d ever seen him look so…evil.

it was perfect.

he sat up, gripping your hips tightly. his fingers leaving bruises on your skin. he ground his hips against your ass, his dick rubbing against your pussy.

“n-need you inside me, toru,” you said, pushing back against him.

“yeah? want me to fuck this pretty pussy from behind?” he growled, his cock head nudging against your aching hole.

you nodded, flushed cheek pressed against the mattress.

he grabbed you by your horns, hauling you up against his chest.

“words, sweetheart. use your words.”

“yes! god— yes! fuck me, satoru!” you gasped.

he chuckled, cruel and unusual for him. “god? remember he’s not listening all the way down here, baby.”

a hand slid down to wrap around your throat and the other between your dripping cunt, rubbing it in tight circles as his cock finally slid back inside you. you both gasped, satoru’s hips picking up the pace, his hips snapping against your ass.

you fucked for what felt like hours. helping your perfect little angel sin all night. your bedroom smelling like sex and sweat. the room filled with your loud “uhuhuh’s”alongside the wet squelch of your pussy as his pounded into you, and of course, his heavenly moans. you came hard with a cry and him following, groaning your name, spilling thick ropes of cum deeeep inside. his halo flickering.

you collapsed, sweaty, his wings holding you so tightly against his chest.

“you are…” he panted, “worth every sin,” kissing you sloppy and smug.

but for all his bravado, there are moments he gets soft. like the day he told you he loved you.

you were curled in his arms in hell, his wings wrapped around you like a cocoon, the firelight painting him in gold and red. he was gorgeous like this, somehow even more than usual. you poked his chest, smirking.

“you know, i think it’s time you say it.”

“say what?” he asked, six of his blue eyes filled with curiosity.

“say you like me. more than you should.”

he smirked, but his eyes—were softer than you’d ever seen them. “sweetheart, i love you more than anything. i’d burn heaven down if it meant keeping you.”

your breath caught, heart skipping. doing that evil thump thump it once did the day you met. “…oh.”

he kissed you, slow, reverent, nothing like his usual teasing.

“honored one, huh?” you murmured against his lips.

“honored to be yours,” he replied, and for once—unlike the little devil you are—you had nothing smart to say back.

all in all, your relationship with satoru has been…well, perfect. or at least, as perfect as it can be when you’re technically committing high treason against both heaven and hell. you’ve been together for years now, tangled up in this sinful yet heavenly mess and not once have you regretted it. but there’s a catch—there’s always a catch.

you have to keep it hidden. not from the world at large—because honestly, at this point, the world seems to know. your friends know. his friends know. you’ve both been so painfully obvious that even the stupidest demon in the seventh circle could put two and two together, and every nosy angel in the choir has already whispered about the way satoru lights up like the star of bethlehem when you’re near.

“wait, wait, wait,” one of your girl friends said the day she found out, wide-eyed. “you’re seriously banging satoru gojo? like heaven’s poster boy?”

you grinned smugly. “yep. he’s allll mine.”

“no way. nuh-uh. don’t believe it. how did you bag him?”

before you can answer, satoru popped his head into your room, grinning. “actually, correction. she tempted me.” pointing to himself as if he was offended. “pretty tragic, right? send thoughts and prayers.”

your friend groaned and you threw a pillow at his head.

“why are you like this?” you muttered.

“handsome privilege, god’s will or something.” he said with a wink.

but your father? from satan himself? from lucifer morningstar, the fallen angel, god’s once-favorite and now sworn enemy? oh, he cannot know. not yet. not while he still spits venom every time he so much as hears the word heaven. not while the bitterness of betrayal still lingers sharp in his chest.

keeping it secret from god wasn’t any easier. it’d been extremely difficult keeping a secret from a man who sees all. after all, satoru wasn’t just some angel. he was the strongest, the one who practically radiated divinity, the one god paraded throughout heaven and earth as his honored one.

so you and satoru live in this delicate balance. everyone else is in on the secret except your father and his creator.

it should terrify you. it should feel impossible. and yet…when satoru smiles at you, all six eyes crinkling in that maddeningly boyish way with that big idiot smile, when his wings fold tight around you like a shield, when he mutters ridiculous prayers under his breath just from being next to you—the idea of keeping such a thing hidden feels laughable. though, satoru always laughed it off, claimed he could take on anyone for you—angels, devils, even your dad. which is prob— definitely true. loving him wasn’t a dangerous thing, it was an act of rebellion—a sin that could split the universe in two.

but if love was a sin, you two would gladly burn for it.

© j3llyc4kes

I am not the owner, all work belongs to j3llyc4kes(deactivated)

“this one’s called eternal cherry kiss,” you say as you uncap the applicator with a dramatic flourish. “supposed to last through eating and drinking. you’ll be the judge.”

“what the fuck is ‘eternal cherry’ supposed to taste like?”

“eternally cherry, obviously.” you lean in. “now pucker up.”

he rolls his eyes, exhales through his nose like this is such an inconvenience, but he leans in anyway. you swipe the gloss across his mouth in a single fluid motion — crimson and glossy, instantly turning his lips into a billboard ad for ‘kissing season.’

he smacks his lips. frowns.

“feels sticky.”

you pull out your phone and hit record. “and now, we let the wear test begin.”

by 2 p.m., he’s still wearing it. there’s a faint cherry sheen while he raids in world of warcraft, barking orders through his mic with his mouth shimmering like a debutante. his guild doesn’t say anything. they know better.

by 5 p.m., you’ve taken him out for errands, the cashier at the pharmacy doing a double take. sukuna glares at the display of cough drops like it wronged him personally, but he doesn’t wipe it off. not even once.

you hand him a mic for the “after” segment. he’s sitting on the kitchen counter, shirtless again, lips still kissed-stained and glowy.

“so, mr. sukuna,” you say with your best influencer voice. “tell us your final review.”

he glares at the camera as he crosses his arms. the gloss is half-faded, but still there, like a badge of honor.

“it’s obnoxious. it survived a shower. survived battle. survived me eating an entire plate of biryani. and her biting my bottom lip at lunch like a demon in heat.”

you make a peace sign from behind the phone.

“…ten outta ten,” he adds reluctantly. “would wear again. for science. or whatever.”

and in the comments, someone goes, “i want what they have.”

sukuna replies from your account—because of course he has the password—with: “die mad about it.”

but since testing lip products just on the lips is for cowards, you’ve upgraded.

this is science. clinical, methodical, incredibly serious influencer business. and sukuna? well, he’s your canvas. your unwilling, irritable, secretly-over-the-moon canvas. he walks into the room already shirtless—because at this point, he knows—arms crossed over his bare chest, all grumble and menace. “so what’s the experiment today, doc? you gonna write your damn @ on my forehead in pink gloss?”

“don’t tempt me,” you say sweetly, uncapping the new gloss. it’s called kissbomb ultra lacquer, and it smells like peaches. “this one claims to last twelve hours, transfer-proof, fade-resistant, and kink-safe.”

he blinks. “kink-safe?”

“don’t worry about it.” you grab his wrist and guide him to sit on the edge of the bed. “shirt off.”

“already is,” he mutters.

“pants too.”

he raises a brow. “...you testing or tryna get laid?”

“yes.”

you climb into his lap with the confidence of a scientist mid-breakthrough, gloss wand in one hand, determination in the other. you apply it slowly, precisely, like you’re prepping for war.

and then the kisses start.

soft little muahs on the corner of his jaw. one on the bridge of his nose. two on his neck, left and right, where his pulse ticks faster. one on each shoulder, then trailing down the hard curve of his bicep. his arms are crossed still, fists clenched, jaw tight—but his ears? red. his breathing? not as chill as he wants to seem.

you murmur, “don’t flex. you’ll smudge the print.”

“’m not flexing,” he says through gritted teeth. “this is just how i exist.”

you keep going. lips marking his collarbones, his ribs, his stomach. lower. every kiss leaving a little stain in a perfect pink imprint like someone went stamp! stamp! stamp! on your big scary man and turned him into a valentine’s day clearance bin.

“you know,” you say thoughtfully, inspecting your work, “you kinda look like the lesbian flag right now.”

he glares at you. “say that again and i’ll throw you out the window.”

you grin, not even fazed. “oh no. my hot queer ally boyfriend’s covered in lip prints. whatever will i do.”

the whole day, he walks around the apartment looking like a sexy battlefield. every mirror he passes, he pauses—just for a second—checking if they’re still there. (they are. of course they are. you chose a good gloss.)

he’s got one kiss mark on the dip of his spine. two on the inside of his thighs. one perfectly placed behind his ear that makes him twitch every time he catches the scent of peach.

“stop looking at me like that,” he growls at you from across the room, sprawled out on the couch later, sipping water and trying to act normal. “you look like a cat who just knocked over a vase.”

you climb on top of him again. inspect a few faded spots. reapply.

“just touching up my art,” you murmur. “quality control.”

he leans his head back and sighs, but his hands are already settling on your hips. there’s a glint in his eyes that says he’s so pretending to hate this. he’s so full of shit.

and when you post a blurry photo of your masterpiece—captioned “new gloss. 12 hour wear. boyfriend approved 💋”—you wake up the next morning to 4,700 comments and one furious growl from sukuna.

“who the fuck is asking if they can be next?”

you hum, flipping over in bed to kiss him right on the chest. “don’t worry, baby. the gloss may be long-lasting, but you’re the exclusive trial subject.” he grumbles, eyes half-lidded, smug despite himself.

“…damn right i am.”

kiss divider by @uzmacchiato

I am not the owner, all work belongs to ryflix(deactivated)