geto knows best ⏠baby daddy drama ⏠only ones who know ⏠his prettiest peach ⏠fire and water ⏠faking it ⏠the girl who cried wolf ⏠on your knees ⏠just a prank
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nothing is ever wrong when it comes to you; if anything, choso worships the ground you walk on and rarely punishes you. ignoring your bratty behavior and choosing to praise you anyway.Â
âyouâre beautiful. can you keep kneeling for five more minutes?âÂ
cupping your jaw and stroking your cheek lovingly, never taking his eyes off yours. the bulge in his pants was growing bigger, and the mark on his face was changing to a darker black because of the blood rushing throughout his body.
youâre the only one who can get him like that, make his whole body hot with want.Â
every word that comes out of his mouth is praise, making sure that you know how good and special you are to him, how you never fail to make him feel better.Â
putting you in front of a mirror while he stands behind you, one hand on your hip and the other holding your jaw in place, making sure you stand still looking right at yourself.Â
âlook at you, so beautiful and smart.â
his words were low, almost quiet.
all heâs known his entire life is to provide, to be that provider for people, and for as long as heâs lived, the only time his body has ever felt good from being that is with his brother and you.Â
itâs not always sexual, but he still feels the same way whether he's washing you down in the bathtub after fucking you nonstop for an hour or he's washing you off after a long hard day and all you want is his comfort.Â
his body still feels the same, buzzing with the same pleasure he wouldâve gotten if he were balls deep inside of you.Â
choso loves the feeling of having to take care of you; it makes him feel good and gives him a purpose. if he can make you feel good, relaxed, or buzzy, then he succeeded.Â
even when youâre the one on your knees swirling your tongue on the head of his dick making him cum, heâs not worried about himself; heâs worried about you and if that made you feel good, praising you heavily.Â
when he sees that sparkle in your eye, then thatâs when he soaks in the pleasure, more cum leaking out, his body heating up fast from you alone and you being so good.
pampering you even harder after. washing you down with your favorite body wash, drying you off, putting on his favorite lotion he likes for you to wear, and then feeding you until you get sleepy.Â
this is his purpose, and he has no problem with that; as long as he has you, he's happy.
[ SUM ] â college soccer coach toji has a secret admirer. but how secret is it when most of the highlights in the school paper are photos of him, instead of the players scoring goals?
[ TAGS ] â MDNI 18+ ONLY. nsfw. piv. raw. unprotected. age gap (mid 30s x early 20s). slight exhibitionism. HEAVY CREAMPIE. FAT BULGE. spanking. CUNNILINGUS. oral f!recieving. dacryphilia. reader kinda freaky. thick dark sexy HAPPY TRAIL. nudity. SHOWER SEX. SCENT KINK. pet names. spitting. wc: 19.1k
[ A/N ] â inspired by coach!toji from my fratkuna series. I was gooning too much whenever Iâd mention him soooo
photo-journalism can mean many things. at its core though is documentation and being present. itâs about recording what happens so it doesnât vanish into the noise of the world. and thatâs what youâve been doing since you started uni.
working for the school newspaper means covering everything that matters to the university. big events, games, and when you attend a school with a division 1 soccer team, thatâs ranked the top of the country, it means your weekends are spent on the sidelines of the pitch. floodlights humming overhead, cleats tearing into the turf, and the air sharp with anticipation.
everyoneâs eyes are on the match, on the players, the scoreline, and the inevitable victory. everyoneâs, except yours.
your lens has a habit of drifting. and it always finds him on the sidelines, the head coach.
standing just outside the white chalk lines. shaggy raven hair that never looks styled, stubble he clearly forgotâor chose notâto shave that morning. his infamous scar pulling at his lips as he shouts. he wears the same black team jacket unzipped, sleeves rolled up his thick forearms. when he folds his arms or gestures sharply toward the field, you always catch his muscles shifting beneath the fabric, veins flexing making it so impossible to ignore.
itâs just a photographerâs eye for striking subjects. for sureâŠ.
he beautifully contrasts against the chaos of the gameâŠeven if heâs shouting, or breaking his clipboardâŠ. still, you capture him mid-shout, mid-thought, jaw clenched as heâs holding the entire team together.
and then later, when the photos run, and his photos dominate the highlights more than the actual goal, well, you pretend not to notice how often your name sits beneath them in a small, neat printed font.
he doesnât know you. youâre just another person with a camera on the sidelines. youâre just another face in a sea of professional press badges, not just one of the universities many photographers. but you know him. you know the way his brows pinch when one of his players gets injured, the way his mouth twitches when his team scores, and the way he exhales with relief when the game ends.
and you keep clicking the shutter buttonâ
âagain?!â the head editor exclaims. âyou didnât get the goal?â
âI did!â you huff, glaring at the senior grad student who basically runs the entire school newspaper.
ânot the first one, the final goal! the one scored by the universities ace! sukunaââ
âgod forbid i missed a shot, I basically got everything else, plus Iâm not the only one taking photos on the pitch. donât you have other photographers?â you tsk, arms crossed.
he glares at you behind his desk, clicking through the photos youâd uploaded. âyou got every single expression of the damn coach,â he mutters under his breath, clicking through one of toji shouting, then another of him spitting on the grass, then another of him scratching his jawâ
you nibble on your cheek, slouching slightly in the seat.
âyou hate when we use someone elseâs photos,â he adds, licking his teeth as he finally gets to your photos of the actual players. and they were spectacular. the action shots were perfect, you can see the sweat dribbling down their foreheads.
âbecause itâs my job,â you mutter, glancing at your editor who frowns when the photos return back to the head coach.
âunbelievable,â he mumbles, exhaling slowly as he sits back in his seat. âyouâre killing me.â
your heel kicks the floor. this wasnât a first. this happens almost every time. your lens just happens to drift away from the ball and fall on the head coach.
even with fans shouting in the stands, and the other cameras flashing in the other direction. your camera canât help but find coach toji in the chaos. he was just as important as the team. heâs acting like toji isnât mentioned a million times in the articles! god forbid you want him getting his flowers. but your editor wasnât very appreciative of your sympathies.
âweâre going with these three, and taking one from the other photographers for the final goal you didnât get,â he sighs, showing you your three photos, one of the team celebrating, another of satoru gojo sprinting across the field with the ball, and of course, the final â and in your opinion the best â of head coach toji standing with his muscular arms crossed at the start of the second half.
your editor rolls his eyes turning his screen back to him. âif you bring another folder and itâs seventy percent of this damn coach, Iâll drop you and pull noah up.â
the threat has you lowering your head and muttering a hesitate okay, because at the end of the day, you were the only photographer that worked full time for the paper, and you go to every single match. the rest are focused on other stories, or working their way to become editors.
while you liked photo-journalism more. it helped, that on weekends, you got someone to admire. and your editor was not the only one thatâs noticed.
âwhat the hell, youâve got to be kidding me,â geto huffs, snatching the paper from gojo as he sits on the pitch. âwhy am I never in these damn fucking articles??â he huffs with anger
âscore more goals,â gojo sticks his tongue out, just to get kicked harshly by his friend.
âI fucking scored this game,â geto snaps, grumbling even more as he flips through the paper, seeing the team celebrating.
sukuna chugs his water behind them, âmy picture sucks ass,â he grumbles, spitting the water right beside their goalie making him jerk back in annoyance. âyou didnât score, but I get the shit picture?â he snaps lowly at gojo.
geto frowns, âI scored, and at least you get a picture.â
gojo chuckles, pointing at the next photo, making the entire team roll their eyes simultaneously.
âsome things never change,â one teammate, yuno, mutters. his hands are on his hips as him and the rest of the team glare at the immaculate, pristine, jaw-dropping photo captured of their strict, grumpy, nicotine addicted head coach, toji.
sukuna snarls as geto looks like heâs going to fucking tear out his luscious black hair. âfucking unbelievable.â
gojo snorts even louder, snatching the paper just to wave it from his place on the ground towards toji, whoâd just gotten off the phone. âcoach! youâre mogging the cameras again!â
tojiâs brows pinch until he notices the photo. and itâs always the same reaction from the head coach. his eyes scan over the photo, then they fall down to the same printed name underneath. ânot bad,â he casually says, handing back the newspaper like itâs nothing.
but the entire team is seething, with the exception of gojo laughing his ass off.
âI finally figured out who your secret admirer is,â gojo announces, âitâs definitely the cutie with the charm on her camera and stickers on her flashlight.â
geto raises a brow âhow dâya know that?â the rest of the team immediately huddle in.
gojo clears his throat.
âfor the last few games Iâve been purposely fixing my shoes or drinking water on the sidelines where theyâre all huddled up. obviously I ruled out all the old farts, then I narrowed it down to the ladies. then i crossed out the outside press, but itâs hard since I canât see all their press badgesâbut then i noticed,â gojo holds up the newspaper, slapping his index finger on your name beneath the photo. the entire team have basically memorized your full name by now. âshe was the only one still photographing the field, BUT it was pointed at coach,â gojo points to toji.
âAND,â gojo continues, âshe had this cute little charm on her camera, and this sticker. and itâs definitely your secret admirer,â gojo confidently smiles.
however, geto scratches his jaw, glancing at gojo then the newspaper. âso which one was her instagram?â
oh right, gojo rubs his neck in disappointment.
your name under a majority of the gameâs photos started catching the teams attention a couple months ago. your credentials at the bottom of the article was always signed with your first and last name. however, when the team caught on to your not-so secret admiration for their coach, and neglect of the rest of team, they tried stalking you.
yet, they couldnât find a single social media handle. not your instagram, twitter, tiktok â even your linkedIn was just the default linkedIn pfp. and the school paper website didnât have a photo for you. either way, the team was on a mission.
âI donât think her socials are even under her name,â gojo admits, making the team groan.
toji, silently watching the ordeal transpire, claps his hands, breaking the gossip. âenough, continue your drills unless ya wanna stay till sunset!â
once the team finally finishes practice and began packing their gear. neither one of them notices the students enjoying the nice weather on campus, or the girl that take a detours to walk past the field.
your eyes easily fall on your perfect subject. his hand cracks his neck as he stifles a yawn, kicking the soccer ball towards one of the players as they kick it up, tucking it under their arm.
it was a routineâŠ.one that you found yourself subconsciously doing on practice days. you would follow the path down from the quad, until you reach the second soccer field on campus, mainly used for practice and training.
your bag hangs off your shoulder along with your camera â the lens was downsized to your fixed 24mm and the flash wasnât on â thatâs usually how your camera is when you arenât at events, or games.
it isnât uncommon to watch the schools infamous soccer team practice. especially when half of them are also part of a fraternity. hell, on the other side of the field were a few girls fawning over the sweaty players.
in other words, you donât stand out. and youâre unbothered by the hot players that glance your way as they pack their bags. well, until a certain white haired player is squinting across the field, before muttering a quiet âno wayâŠâ
geto gives his friend a look, lifting his duffle over his shoulder as sukuna wipes his face with the hem of his jersey, âwhat?â he grumbles.
gojoâs bag hit the grass. he locks eyes with you. then he does the worst thing imaginable. he shouts your name.
the entire team snap their necks in your direction. gojo suddenly leads the pack of six foot whatever college men across the field â their bags drop, cleats half untied, some bare foot. but all on one mission.
you.
the color immediately drains from your face. your body freezes like a deer in headlights. and when the entire team of sweaty, built, hot men crowd the waist-high fence that separate them from you. youâre ultimately stuck.
âyouâre-youâreââ slightly out of breath and pumped full of adrenaline, gojo heaves out your name. not just a first name, noâyour full government name. âright!?â
you eyes lazily drag between the men, fixing the strap of your bag, your camera clinking against the side, drawing every manâs attention to the little charm gojo had just described less than an hour ago.
âyeah,â you manage to exhale, shifting your balance. âdid you need something?â
âyeah,â the low voice of the hot headed team captain interrupts. he hadnât ran with rest of the players, instead he walked up, casual and full of loud confidence. finally making his way across the field, energy drink in hand, glaring right through you as he continues. âwhy the fuck was my picture the only one not taken by you? it looks like shit.â
you exhale, about to answer when another one cuts in.
âwhy havenât you taken one of me? the game last month was my debut and you didnât get me going on the pitchââ
âI liked that shot you got of me whenââ
âcan you get my good side next timeââ
âwhy did youââ
âcan youââ
âyou didnât get my goal!â geto manages to dogpile. all the men yell complaints and compliments, overwhelming you with critiques. until youâre frowning, glaring harshly at the group of men youâd watched from a distance since your freshman year.
âI donât work for you guys,â you finally snap. your words are cold making the men frown. âI work for the schools paper, and they choose the photos, not me.â
âand yet coach is in every single one of em?â geto bites back, and thatâs when they all catch the slight surprise that crosses your face.
gojo smirks, leaning over the fence, getting close as he tilts his head. âseems like a majority of your photos have our coach. itâs like your editor canât help but be forced to put him in.â
you feel your stomach churn, glancing between the sharp sapphire eyes. âthatâs not how it works,â you mutter.
you did not expect your first interaction with the soccer team to be this. accusing you of favoritism. you can practically feel all their eyes on you, like they knew exactly who you are, even if this is your first time speaking to them.
âsure looks like it,â sukuna drawls, smirking wide when he sees you shift uncomfortably. âyou like our coach or somethin?â
âof course she does,â getoâs smooth voice cuts in. âdo you get all hot lookin at coach toji?â
you swallow thickly, pushing down the heat crawling up your neck to glare at the men. âyou guys are disgusting,â you spit, but the men donât falter, instead they continue gloating and poking.
âwe just wanna get to know you. youâve been takinâ our pics for months, we canât have a chat now?â geto cuts.
they were quietly impressed with your composure. your poker face wouldâve been perfect if not for the slight fidgeting youâre doing with your bag and camera strap. either way, your glare was mean, unwavering untilâ
âcut it out.â
the sharp voice slices through the team. then, one strong palm shoves gojo into geto, and the rest of the team topple on each other like dominos. the head coach plants himself between the fence, his team, and you.
âi forget youâre all a couple children,â toji tsks, his arms are crossed standing like a lone knight keeping a pack a wolves from a poor princess.
your heart slams against your rib cage. all your composure evaporates into thin air, struggling to catch your breath. this was the closest youâve gotten to the head coach. you can practically smell the mixture of his cologne and natural musk. your cheeks grow hotter by the second, completely dazed and loosing all other senses, unaware that practically half the team noticed your sudden shift.
gojo elbows geto eyeing the way your pupils basically turn into bright pink hearts. even your lips look more glossy from the drool collecting in your mouth.
theyâd never seen anything like it, and for their coach of all people?!
youâre caught up in gawking at the huge man, eyeing his wide shoulders, the veins straining from his compression shirt, his shirt clinging to every muscle that could break you in a blink of an eye â that you miss his short lecture towards his boys to quit scaring off a young woman, all to end with him shoutingâ
âten more laps!â
the teamâs eyes bulge, jaws dropping in shock, and quickly follow up with a spew of complaints.
âya heard coach!â sukuna, the hot-headed captain, interrupts. and if the team wasnât scared of their coach, they definitely had a reason to be with their captain. they ultimately drop their things and start their laps. however, sukuna hangs back at bit, âI didnât even say shââ
âyou were late to practice, so you were gonna do the laps anyways,â toji cuts, earning a loud tsk from the tattooed captain. his duffle drops on the floor dramatically, eyes flicking towards yours, which â no surprise â havenât left the coachâs profile, and with his own groan, his cleats hit the grass starting his lap.
with the entire team running lapsâŠ.youâre left alone.
coach toji doesnât move.
instead, he leans against the fence, strong arms crossing. youâre barely a foot behind him, close enough that the scent of grass and dizzy cologne reaches you when he shifts his weight. close enough that your brain short-circuits again.
then he looks over his shoulder.
itâs not rushed or sharp. it was an easy turn of his head, his dark emerald eyes flick to you with calm, assessing. and up close, heâs worse. heâs broader than he looks from the sidelines, his stubble shadowing his jaw feels unfair for a sunday morning. sunlight catches the edge of his cheekbone, and the curve of his mouth makes you stare shamelessly especially when it lifts just slightly. heâs amused by something youâre not aware of yet and you donât even notice.
your heart stutters.
you practically forget how to stand or how to function like a grown ass adult, instead you feel like someone whoâs just had their fantasy materialize directly in front of them.
heat rushes to your face, your chest tightens, and you pray, desperately, that your expression isnât as transparent as it feels. you focus on keeping your hands still, even as your pulse flutters wildly under your skin.
and tojiâs gaze lingers. he takes you in like the way someone experienced does, without staring, without shame, just a brief glance that drifts. from your fidgeting fingers, to your necklace trapped between your pretty cleavage, to the tank top that hugs your chest, to the zip up hoodie falling off your soft shoulder. to your lips, wet from the amount of times youâd lick and bit them.
and you still donât notice it! youâre too busy trying not to melt into the grass beneath your feet. all you register is how hot the space suddenly feels, how solid he seems standing there.
from the field, a player snickers mid-lap. a majority watching the entire interaction, waiting for someone to make a move. gojo snickers as geto analyzes.
you donât hear any of it, all you know is that the knights are real, and heâs right in front of you, and your carefully maintained composure never stood a chance. especially when his eyes meet yours and his deep, husky, voice sinks into your bones.
âbeen wondering who was seeinâ me like that, sweetheart.â
you were gone.
s-s-s-sweetheart!?
your heart bursts, veins burning through your skin as your lips part, words falling into the void as your brain struggles to reply.
and he finds it adorable.
college girls are cute, but you, youâre a little pervert. how many photos have you taken of him? and for the past year too? heâs wondered just like his team had, who was behind all those photos. who was oogling him while the best team in the nation was playing right before their eyes?
at first, he was bothered, confused even, how big of a stalker did you have to be to take his photos for months and not introduce yourself?
but now he sees it. the way youâre struggling to find words. the way your eyes flick between his â surprised even that youâre not shying away from eye contact, but instead, struggling to just respond. like the words are right there, but your dumb brain is getting fried just by his presence. cute.
âIâll try anâ wink next time.â
he just hammers the nail straight into your heart. your face bursts into flames as you let out a strangled hum like whine, face burning even more. unfortunately, your audience isnât as silent. instead a few had caught your reaction and were bursting with laughter. a few whistling at their coach.
âsheâs too young for ya, coach!â
âget someone yâer own age!â
âcoach, the shy ones are the freakiest!â
the last one â somehow â snapped you back to reality. your glare cut through the field, immediately hitting one of the players making him burst out laughing along with the others around him. your face pulls into a scowl, heart hammering at the teasing youâre receiving from the team. who even are they? they donât know anything about you!
shy?! you?!!! you scowl in annoyance, eyes rollinâ
âignore em, sweetheart. theyâre just being dicks.â
fuck.
your face burns hot again, heart hammering against your ribs as you stutter out another nod, fingers gripping your bag as you glance at the head coach again. his green eyes were unbelievably dark, just staring at them, you felt like you were getting dizzy.
the scar on his lip twitches up, leaning an elbow on the fence, his eyes flick down to your camera. âwhat kinda camera is that?â
your eyes widen, looking down like youâre surprised itâs there. but it seems like he flicks a switch in your brain with that question, because now youâre fumbling to hold the delicate thing in your hands. then you hold it out for him.
a small puff of air leaves his nose in amusement. youâre cute. he turns, reaching his hand out, just for your small ones to place the expensive camera in his. the same one youâd deny your friends from even holding, afraid theyâll drop it.
b-but if coach toji holds itâŠif he wants to hold itâŠwhoâŠwho are you to stop him!!!
your blush only breaks out across your body once you feel your hands brush his, eyes so bright and big even he can see the hearts explode from your irises, fuzzy pink flowers glowing around your head like a cartoon.
âlooks expensive,â he finally takes his eyes away from you to momentarily examine the camera. it was nice, sony. âbought it yourself?â
you nod, smiling as you rock on your heels. âit wasâŠâ oh first words, tojiâs eyes flick to you, eyeing your glossy lips as they part. âmy first big purchase,â you glance at the camera then back up at toji as you point with your manicured index finger, towards the camera. âitâs niceâŠright?â
well fuck me.
toji chuckles internally. he really canât read you. from rude (to the team), to shy, to snappy (to the team), to demure, to charmingâall while looking up at him like heâs some shinning knight and not a coach, albeit for the best team in the nation, but still.
his lips curl up, his internal switch already flipped when he shooed the team away, and the smooth voice of his poured out like second nature. âvery nice, sweetheart.â
you nod, enthusiastically.
god, you were a cutie.
âand you take such good pictures with it too, youâre a natural,â the sweet words just keep pouring from his mouth like honey, and youâre eating up every drop. your feet manage to carry you closer to the fenceâŠcloser to him.
you wet your glossy lips, leaning close to point at the camera, âit also takes video hereâŠI initially wanted to do more videography, but I stuck with photos. but itâs a nice perk with the cameraâŠand I can shoot in raw and jpeg, so I can edit them afterwards if I want, and uh and I have other lenses too. this one is a fixed one, so it canât zoom, but I have two other ones that zoom, I usually use those ones for workâŠlike during yourâŠ.games.â
your rambling was one of, if not, the most attractively adorable things you couldâve done at this moment. especially when youâre oblivious to the light flush that settles in the coachâs stomach as he eyes you down.
his gaze flicks between your fingers on the camera, and your profile from his height. your hair lightly brushâs back from the wind exposing your neck, your perfume reaching his nose.
âcan I try takinâ a pic?â
your face bursts hot, you feel like itâll melt off as you gawk up at the head coach, before nodding your head frantically, a wide smile pulling at your lips. you try to clear your throat as you turn the camera on for him and take the lens cap off.
âgood?â he asks.
you just nod again, biting your cheek feeling how wide youâre smiling it almost hurts, but you canât take your eyes off the way his big hands handle your camera. your biggest crush ever is using your camera!
you contain a squeal as he stands straight. he brings the camera to his eye, before lowering it again, confused. your eyes widen momentarily before realizing heâs struggling and quickly stepping up again.
you lean over the fence. and toji purposely avoids coming down to your height. instead, he watches you hold the fence to stand on your tippy toes, the other gently holds his wrist to ask him to lower the camera just a bit from his eye so you can instruct him. fuck, the confidence to touch him when you were just a jittery mess a second ago.
âthe shutter button is here. if you half press it, itâll auto-focus for youââ you move to the front of the camera flipping some switch, âjusâ turned it on. but just press down all the way and itâll take the picture,â you say, mistakenly glancing up from where you are, just to realize that coach tojiâs face is inches from yours. his warm breath fans against your cheek, his scar so close, his lips right there and his eyesâŠ.
you were beyond gone. the steam immediately comes off your face as your eyes turn into big giant hearts. youâre so easy to read it should be illegal.
you fall back on your heels, allowing toji to attempt again. what you werenât expecting was for him to point the camera at you.
well considering the wider lens, I guess he wants to shoot something closer for more satisfaction. but it caught you slightly off guard, your cheeks flame once more, heart stuttering, but your face immediately lights up.
his lips curve up behind the camera, watching you give him a cute smile, angling your head to tip to the side a bit. people that automatically smile when a camera is pointed at them is definitely a cute trait.
he takes a few quick photos, before pulling the camera back. âhow do I see âem?â
this time he lowers the camera for you, but keeps it close to his body so youâre still leaning over and up beside him, albeit with the fence between you both.
âah the sun was behind me,â you realize now looking at the photos. toji hums like he knows what that means (he doesnât) but he clicks the button to go to the next picture and same thing.
âletâs do it again,â he says, already pulling the camera back, but your finger quickly reaches out, easily flipping it back to view mode before moving back. toji watches you glance up at the sky, before moving yourself in front of the sun. âsmile fâer me, sweetheart.â
you were smiling, but nowâtoji chuckles through his nose at your reaction. he knows exactly what heâs doing. he takes one photo, than another.
your smile turns more pose worthy, not so big, but just as beautiful. âyouâre a natural,â he comments, with full honesty.
your cheeks flush, waving your hand in front of you, âdonât glaze me.â
toji snorts, âjusâ saying what I see, not my fault you pose like a model.â
a model?!
toji notices the way you bite your cheek and the way your hands fidget with your bag. âput the bag down, sweetheart.â
your heart skips again, the nickname electing a response from you every time. but you oblige, setting your bag on the ground. now without anything to fidget with, your hands carefully clasp behind your back, your navy hoodie completely off your shoulder, exposing the casual white tank top. his eyes glance at the swell of your tits that your bra pushes up. and the sliver of skin that peaks at the bottom.
the wind was like a perfect accessory, blowing a warm spring breeze in your direction brushing your hair again.
you do your best to pose casually, smiling at the camera, eyes low as you stare into the lens, heart beating erratically as you wait for coach toji to finish.
your breath catches momentarily. cheeks stinging and lips parting like a deer in headlights, because you notice it. just briefly, the way toji lowers the camera from his eye, gaze tracking down your figure, eyeing your thighs, then your hips, then your tits.
heâs definitely checking you out.
you glance away, flustered, unaware that toji was now clicking the library to view the photos heâd just taken.
âI think Iâm a pretty good shot,â he compliments his nonexistent skills, but the light hits you so well.
you smile watching him look at the photos. eyes glued to his lazy smirk, stomach hot and heart fluttering at his short comments. heâs so handsome, you glance at the curve of his nose, the stubble on his cheek. heâs so so pretty.
your mind was getting dizzy, all because coach toji is in front of you, but it made you completely forgetful that if he keeps clicking next, itâll eventually reachâ
âoh.â
you first notice the slight raise of his brows, then the scar on his lip twitching wider, then the greens of his eyes darkening.
âdid yaâ submit these too, sweetheart?â
your brows furrow for half a second, then it clicks. you lunge forward.
this canât be happening!
you immediately cover the screen and take the camera as you hear the coach chuckle. of course youâd forgotten that you had these on your sd card.
staring back at you is a photo of tojiâs fat bulge from the game. you managed to catch the moment he reached down to itch himself, grabbing it. if he saw this one he definitely saw the three before this of the closeups of his lips, his big biceps, his ass when he was fixing his shoes.
your heart is beating in your ears, skin sizzling with embarrassment as your vision starts to narrow. your eyes flick up to the coach in horror, flustered beyond speech. âitâs notââ you struggle to explain, âyou werenât supposed to see that. I was just taking oneâthen I someone bumped so like, the camera went downââ
the rambling was unlike the one before, this one was much more uncoordinated, fueled by your humiliation, anxiety, and desperate attempt at defending yourself to him, so that he doesnât think youâre some creep.
âI wore that shirt from the match two weeks ago. not this oneâŠ.â his head tilts, arms folded across his beefy chest. âwhy do you still have âem?â
the older man is quite unbothered. instead, his chest grew hot, and his mind wandered off imagining this hot college girl laying in her bed, staring at pictures of his crotch with her small fingers playing with her wet little pussy. his eyes flick to your chest again.
your eyes are wide, glancing at your camera.
âI just forgot to format the card,â you quickly reply, pretty chest rising and falling. âI always forget, and I realize after when Iâm exporting the photos or run out of storageâI delete them, i-i swear!â
he snorts, head tilting, âyou swear?â
you nod frantically.
his emerald eyes narrow, tongue poking out to wet his lips, touching his scar. his eyes flick to the camera in your hands. youâre quite the actorâŠ
âokay, Iâll take your word then. you wouldnât lie to meâŠ?â his gaze was intimidating, the darkness of his pupils felt like a black hole pulling you in. but somehow you manage to shake your head.
âno, sir.â
toji holds eye contact, before tearing it away to reach for his phone, âgood girl.â
your heart beats in your throat, threatening to tear out, but you step forward, eyes big and sad. âsorry, coach.â thereâs a slight waver in your voice, the manâs eyes widen briefly, chuckling under his breath as he brings a hand up to the crown of your head.
âdonât worry about it, keep taking photos of me. yaâ make me feel important,â his comment is punctuated with a flirtatious wink, shooting another arrow straight into your heart.
you were lovestruck the entire trip home. and so unbelievably grateful.
you talked your way out of such incriminating evidence. because how could coach toji know that in truth, you have an entire album of photos just like the ones he saw, that you pull out almost every night to help you cum.
you really should be an actor, you think, blushing at the way he called you good girl. the way he looked at you, the way his fingers brushed yours on the camera âahhhh, you bury your hot face in your hands.
you were in shock for days, heart slamming against your chest and face heating up every time you thought back to the moment.
you were so in your head that you hadnât even noticed the two athletes walking up behind you on your way out of class, crossing the quad.
itâs like that thing that happens. when youâre finally introduced to someone for the first time, then youâre suddenly seeing them everywhere. thatâs how geto and gojo felt. youâd been under their noses the entire time.
with a lecture of over two hundred students, of course theyâd spot you when you entered today. gojo elbowed his friend, nodding in your direction. getoâs eyes nearly popped.
âwhat the hell?â geto leans forward, the two men closely watch you enter the lecture hall, walking a few rows down before slipping in. getoâs eyes narrow at the camera you carefully place in your lap as you take out your ipad.
it was like the cards were being dealt out for him perfectly.
âwait, I donât get it,â gojo huffs catching up to his friend as the lecture hall empties.
geto tsks, âwhatâs not to get? Iâm gonna bribe her into taking photos of me next game. Iâm fucking tired of being some fucking blurââ
âyouâve gotten some photos manââ
âwell i want more. ones where Iâm actually scoring,â geto huffs, brushing his bang back in frustration.
once the two men hit the pavement outside, they spot you. gojo is tagging along for the fun, while geto is set on a mission. one he conjured up mid-lecture the second he saw you. it was perfect. geniusâ
âwhat?â your face scrunches in mild disgust. the two men baffle at your reaction, especially at the way youâre looking up at them with narrow, and irritated eyes. your expression isnât hard to decipher, itâs basically screaming, why tf are you talking to me?
geto licks his teeth, exhaling through his nose, âyou heard me fine, sweetheartââ
âdonât call me that.â
his jaw clenches, repeating his line without the pet name. âthe next two games are the semifinals and then the finals, so Iâll give you access through our manager to join press during the media window two days before the matchesââ
âI already have access to that through the school paper,â you give him a look, immediately ticking him off.
âlet me fucking finish will youââ
âyouâre taking forever and Iâm being cornered,â you snap back, rolling your eyes at the pretentious athlete. geto bites his tongue, as gojo gasps.
âyouâre not being cornered!â he states, just to exchange a look with geto as they both see that theyâve steered you off the pavement and against a tree. ânoâweâre just talking.â
you exhale, glancing back at geto, âwhatever, just finish.â
geto licks his lips, continuing, âyouâll also get access to our locker room strategy meeting or whatever, and behind the scenes access â you only do photos, no video or interviews?â
you shake your head, heart beating just a little quicker because now youâre starting to see the perks. bts access is the one thing university teams can deny since they donât like any outsiders butting into their strategies or taking them out of âthe zone.â
that also means you can seeâŠ.coach toji.
gojo and geto both notice the realization crossing your face, especially when your lips part, much more glossy than before. unbelievable.
âbut,â geto snaps you back, your eyes darting up to meet his, âyou better take some good fucking shots of me during the game. if Iâm not in the fucking paper and insta page, then no deal.â
you gasp, âdude, youâre literally acting like Iâm the one in charge of that?? itâs my editor that picks the photos to put in the articles.â
geto tsks, âyet somehow coach is in every single one.â your jaw clenches, stomach heating up. âtake more photos of me so itâs inevitable. got it?â
your lip curls in annoyance, eyeing geto, just for gojo to suddenly but inâ
âbut also take some of me, i look so hot in them and i like reposting them on my insta,â gojo flashes you a smile.
your frown deepens, âthereâs other photographers. you guys know that right?â
âyours are the only ones they choose and they look better than whoever took sukunaâs,â gojo snorts, remembering their captains complaints.
nevertheless, geto and gojo wait for you to agree, both men standing with their arms crossed, blocking the spring sun from hitting you.
then a certain captain happens to pass by, noticing his two teammates, and frat brothers.
âthe fuck are you guys doing?â
the men whip their heads as sukuna steps up, bag slung over his shoulder wearing a backwards baseball cap. and with a quick explanation from his friends, sukuna tsks glancing at you and adding.
âcoach always showers before or after our games.â
and it was that one bit of information that automatically has you saying: âdeal.â
â
you donât rush setting up. you check your flash, bouncing it once off the ceiling to make sure it wonât wash anyone out. your fingers move with muscle memory, standing in these rooms plenty of times for the school paper, along with other journalists from the school paper especially for media days, post-game scrums, pre-season press.
so this isnât new territory.
the room is packed, though. thereâs national outlets mingling with campus press, and clusters of journalists already talking. you hear familiar phrases float past as you move, many talking about the teams unbeaten streak, their goal differentials, their historic season.
familiar names are easily getting tossed around. captain sukuna coming up first, always, and his leadership, and the way he commands the field. gojoâs speed follows after, and his natural talent and eye for goals, then getoâs consistency, his intelligence and composure. someone mentions scouts again, plural this time, and how a few clubs have been hovering around those three all season.
you barely react because youâve heard all of this before, and it was impressive of course, you enjoy it. however, what does get you, embarrassingly, is his name.
every time coach toji is mentionedâhis tactics, his discipline, the way he rebuilt the program and incorporated new strategies âyou feel heat creep up your neck. itâs a soft and traitorous blush that youâre grateful no oneâs looking closely enough to notice you smiling.
you keep your eyes on your camera, pretending to fiddle with a setting you donât actually need to adjust, reminding yourself that heâs just part of the team. a very effective, very respected part of it.
then finally, the noise dips and the conversations fade into an expectant quiet as the side door opens.
the players file in first, with sukuna at the front, expression unreadable, gojo already grinning, geto calm and observant as ever. everyoneâs cameras lift, and recorders click on. and then he steps in behind them.
coach toji, in a suit.
your face breaks into a hot mess, heart skipping a beat as you eye him through your lens. it fits him too well. dark, sharp, shoulders filling it out like it was tailored perfectly. no team jacket today, no morning stumble. no, he looked clean, with polished shoes, and authority. he guides the team forward eyes sweeping the room calmly.
your flash fires once, professionalism wavering again. how can it not when your knight is walking into the room and reminding you exactly how out of reach he is.
the entire team easily spots you in the front row for the first time. your charm hangs from your camera strap, along with the little sticker on your godox flash. they all know who you are now, so their wasnât any hiding the way theyâd purposely glance at your camera lens, giving you their best shots.
many of the questions are being directed towards the coach, your eyes focus on his reaction, lens zooming close as he rolls his dress shirt over his forearms. your camera flashes and your cheeks warm. you do this every time. acting like itâs your first time seeing the coach in a suit even though he wears one every semifinals press. but you canât help it!
journalists throw questions without breath, firing rounds until the set time is up.
âphotographers only, please.â
the room clears out fast. chairs scrape back, and laptops snap shut. you step forward instinctively, already lifting your camera. the players shift back into place. sukuna straightens, his expression resetting into something stoic. gojo cracks a joke under his breath that earns him a look. geto adjusts his sleeves, calm as ever.
toji moves standing just off to the side at first, arms crossed, smooth dress shirt crinkling over his taut muscles, and unforgiving across his shoulders.
the manager gestures. âletâs get the team all together first.â
cameras flash as the team pose, all in their uniform. you move easily getting their shots, unaware of the emerald eyes watching your every move.
coach toji noticed you the minute he stepped into the room. however, he remained composed, knowing how many eyes were on him. but now, his eyes sweep over your figure.
your grey dress pants hugging that right ass, and those hips. the tight dress shirt hugged your frame, with the top buttons undone allowing some of your cleavage to be revealed along with your necklace stack. business casual, but heâs sure half the team is looking at your tits. your pretty anklet catching the light as you move in your kitten heels.
âcoach with sukuna,â the manager says.
toji steps forward.
you track him without thinking, framing the shot as he places a hand lightly at sukunaâs back, guiding him a half-step to the left. your shutter clicks, noticing how easily he steps into your frame, how naturally he fills it. his height just a hair taller than the hot headed captain, at least in your eyes.
âalright, another group photo,â the manager says.
toji turns, motioning the players in with two fingers. his eyes briefly catch yours making your eyes widen. the team clusters around their coach, heads bowed slightly, listening even though thereâs nothing to hear. he speaks low anyway. you circle to the side, careful, capturing the curve of his shoulder, the way his jaw tightens when he focuses.
tojiâs gaze lifts again, slow and deliberate, landing on you.
why does he keep doing that?!
itâs brief. just a glance that lingers a fraction longer, his eyes flick from your face to the camera in your hands and back again, like heâs remembering the photos he saw on your camera.
you feel heat blooming under your skin, pulse kicking hard enough to throw you off guard. you steady your hands, inhaling subtly, pretending you donât feel the way the air shifts when he turns slightlyâŠwhen he ends up closer than before, just at the edge of your frame.
âokay, weâre good,â the manager calls.
the team breaks, the players disperse, but toji stays put for a beat longer, adjusting his sleeve, posture relaxed again, unreadable.
you lower your camera only when itâs over, breath leaving you in a quiet rush you didnât realize you were holding. you donât see him glance at you when you step back to check your photos. you also donât notice the small, satisfied curve of his mouth.
not until youâre feeling a gentle, firm, hand on your waist, and a low voice right against your ear, âsay hi next time. youâre not a stranger anymore.â
your body immediately catches on fire, eyes snapping to the man like a magnet, heart slamming against your ribs as you watch him pull back, emerald eyes meeting yours.
âright, sweetheart?â
your face stings, as you nod quickly, heat pooling deep in your stomach, feeling his thumb caress your hip over your shirt. your lips part, mind dizzy as you glance as his strong forearms, heâs towering over you, slightly leaning down to speak to you in quiet whispers.
âIâll see câya tomorrow, yeah,â he gives your waist a squeeze as he greets you with a kiss to your cheek like some gentleman. then he walks away. and if you werenât a mess before, the casual glance he shoots over his shoulder has a third arrow piercing your heart.
you couldnât contain it anymore. you were consumed by this man. every waking thought was spent daydreaming about himâ his voice, his eyes, his hands, his demeanor. it was intoxicating.
all for you to show up in the lockerroom, the next day, hours before the match. the team is either dressed in their uniforms, or still shirtless, huddling around the white board as they prep for the game.
geto was the second to notice you, after gojo. both their eyes twinkling as they walk up to you. âthey gave you the pass,â geto nods to the press badge around your neck.
you nod, glancing around the lockerroom. it felt tense, the aura suspenseful as the time ticks closer to when they walk onto the pitch.
âget your vip shots, but you better get my photo,â geto hushes in your ear.
âand mine!â gojo blurts, just as a certain coach is stepping out of the steam.
and you feel it. the towel wrapped low around his waist, skin still slick with water that traces unhurried paths down his sculpted torso. his hair is darker when itâs wet, heavier, droplets slide from it and disappear along the hard lines of his shoulders.
your eyes catch his muscles moving when he walks, hard mass, that shifts beneath skin without effort. you swallow thickly, body heating up, stomach fluttering as you catch the trail of dark coarse hair leading down from his navel, and disappearing beneath the towel. your eyes follow it to the bulge you know is under there. your cheeks sting at the thought of it.
you were utterly shameless. as if the two men standing beside arenât still talking to you. but they immediately recognize the shift in your attitude and notice the steam leaving your face. gojo stifles a laugh, as geto sighs. youâre hopeless.
your eyes follow the scars youâve never seen before. the old pale marks catch the light, etched across his side, his pecs, and back, proof of some life before this one. then he turns just enough and your heart stutters, and your panties soak.
ink blooms along his ribs where the towel dips. the tattoos are sharp and intimate, black against his skin thatâs still flushed from the heat. youâve photographed him dozens of times, from every angle, but youâve never seen a peak of a tattoo.
âhow wet are you right now?â
the comment snaps you back, glaring straight at the crystal ocean eyes narrowed in amusement.
âdonât talk to me like that,â you huff, âIâm working.â your attitude really is night and day when it comes to anyone else and toji.
gojo blushes, âI love mean girls.â
you roll your eyes.
âwhatâre you two doing? get the fuck over here,â sukuna snaps.
the team huddles as the fifteen minute timer starts. and thatâs what you should be photographing, but instead you glance back. toji is now pulling up his pants, wet hair still dripping down the expanse of his back. his eyes catch yours for a second, gaze flicking to your camera, tauntingâŠ
his hand subtly cups his crotch, squeezing his girth just to present you with a size, one that has your lips parting with a shaky exhale, heart pounding as you glance between his emerald eyes and the way his forearms flex when he fixes the waistband of his boxers, pulling the material down just a bit that you catch more of the thick patch of hair at his base seeing a peak of it, before heâs fixing himself again.
and once he zips his pants up, glancing at the team as they huddle for some words from the captain before coach steps in, toji walks to you. just a few feet away, your eyes widen in surprise, heart stuttering as you watch him lean down to greet you with a kiss to your cheek, again!
heâs acting like youâre familiar even though this is just your third interaction with himâŠbut maybe you areâŠ
âthought I told you to say hi next time,â he says against your ear, pulling away.
your face heats up, âyou wereâŠ.changing.â
âso?â
you gulp, eyes flicking between his, heart pounding. heâs so close. your breath catches when his scent hits your nose, sandalwood, oak and something deeper under it. his stubble is darker than yesterday, rougher along his jaw, and you realize youâve been staring for too long when the heat creeps up your neck.
he doesnât move away though, he stands beside you, attention forward on sukuna as he speaks. focused, and so aware of youâre attention he has to hold back a smirk. and maybe he doesnât mind messing with you, so his hand remains at your lower back, light, almost absent, but there.
your stomach flips, attention gone. you try to listen, you do. sukuna is talking about positioning, about discipline, about not getting sloppy or something and the room is locking in around you, everyone leaning in. these would be great photosâbut all you can think about is how close he is.
how his hand hasnât moved, every small shift makes your pulse jump. you keep your eyes forward. you donât trust yourself to look at him again.
and that gives toji the opportunity to take you in. his pupils dilate just a fraction as his gaze travels down your body. his eyes zero in on the multiple open buttons of your tight dress shirt. youâre not even hiding yourself, and the sliver of skin that peaks between your pants and shirt doesnât help.
his hand remains over your clothes, heat settling in his stomach when you take a deeper breath and your tits push up, and his eyes shamelessly look down your shirt from his towering height. fuck, he wants a look at that pretty ass tooâ
âcoach! youâre up!â sukunaâs voice cuts through everything, snapping toji back. your gaze whips with it, catching him off guard as you wait for his next move like anything he touches is gold.
he controls himself, giving your waist that same squeeze before his hand leaves you just like that.
you push down the feeling that hits immediately, sharp and cold. but now you can finally breathe properly when he steps away. he moves past the players without rushing â a few of the boys let their eyes roam over youâ toji adjusts his sleeve ignoring the feeling bubbling up when he notices them. and then heâs at the front.
he doesnât raise his voice, doesnât need to now, but he usually gets to that point around the halfway mark. but this was the first time youâre seeing him speak in privateâŠand when he speaks, they all listenâevery single one of them.
gojo notices, gossip second nature to him. but the quick glance your way already has a grin tugging at his mouth before he nudges geto. geto follows his gaze, then sukuna does too, just brieflyâand itâs obvious. painfully obvious. the way your expression softens, the way your attention doesnât wavers. itâs written all over you.
âsheâs actually really hot,â gojo comments.
though you wish you could stand there forever, the time finally comes for the team to head to the pitch, and thatâs when the chaos begins.
not just on the fieldâŠbut off it.
the press box is packed, bodies press against you shoulder to shoulder. the field below is relentless. everything fast, and aggressive, and loud enough that the noise bleeds through everything. you always forget how overstimulating and exhilarating semifinal matches are. but you remember the deal you made with the three stars.
your camera moves with them, tracking their plays, snapping multiple shots of them without hesitation, and then catching the moment when things go wrong...
sukuna gets taken down hard during a penalty shotâand thereâs no whistle. no call.
youâre already shooting when the other team pushes, then scores, and the stadium erupts, but sukuna is on his feet, shouting. the goal should be discounted. the captain was known to be a hot head, but even you could see that the tackle he received was completely brushed off by the ref and he was right.
everyone watches as the team moves forward in defense of sukuna, but also holding him back. the other side meets them just as hard. the crowd shouts as they watch the players shove, yell, and slam into each otherâand through it all you keep shooting. you catch toji too, voice cutting through the chaos as he orders his players to pull sukuna back.
the press talk amongst themselves as halftime quickly breaks up the argument. your feet quickly carry you out of the press box, towards the locker room.
âno locker room access.â
your jaw tightens immediately irritation flaring hot and sharp.
âI have a different badge,â you show the security guard your press ID. the one geto gave you.
âno press allowed, do i need to repeat myself?â the man snaps.
your irritation ticks at your side. fine. whatever. the second you step back, your mind is already running, already circling back to geto. you scoff under your breath, shaking your head as you pace along the corridor, camera swinging lightly at your side.
seriously? all that talk, all that stupid ass convincing, and for what? you were supposed to be there. that was the whole point! you roll your eyes, heat building the longer you think about it, every step feeding into this petty irritation instead of cooling it. were you overreacting âyes, but whateverâif heâs not holding up his end, then why should you?
by the time you make it back up, youâre done. done thinking about it, done entertaining it, done with their stupid deal.
the second half starts and you fall back into rhythm. camera up, focus sharp, and attention on only one thing now, the ballâŠ.
gojo and geto drift near the press box occasionally, clearly expecting something, acknowledgment, a photo, but you donât even bat an eye. not a look, not a flicker, hell, they might as well not exist.
itâs almost satisfying. almost.
the final whistle blows and the stadium erupts, the first leg ended in a draw, preparing for next game to see whoâll continue. cameras around you go wild, capturing every second of it. the quiet annoyance of both teams, the noise in the crowd. but you donât. you lower yours, expression flat, already turning away. itâs petty. a little unfair, but still, you walk.
âyouâre not coming to the locker room?â gojoâs voice follows you, footsteps quick behind yours as you head in the opposite direction.
âwhy would i?â you snap, sharp, not even slowing. âam i even allowed,â thereâs an obvious clip in your tone that has gojo confused.
âwhatâre you talking about?â
âdealâs off.â
huh?!????
gojo barely has time to react, before youâre walking away.
baffled and utterly confused, gojo makes his way back to the locker rooms. the energy is stiff, sukuna is grumbling under his breath about how embarrassing it was to end their first leg in a draw, geto is lounged beside his bag scrolling on his phone, and toji is in the corner talking to the managers. ugh, does no one care that their personal photographer isnât taking photos of them???
they do care.
especially when the next paper comes out and the article is filled with photos taken by other people, not you!
âWHY THE FUCK DO I LOOK LIKE THAT!??â sukuna shouts, entire body fumming as they all sit outside during practice. sukuna is not the only one pissed, geto is practically seething because there isnât even a single photo of him or gojo.
âwhat is this girlâs problem?! i thought you idiots made a deal with her?!â sukuna snaps, already in a foul mood, but now itâs worse.
geto licks his teeth, jaw ticking, âwe did.â
âI told you guys she was pissed that she didnât come in during halftime,â gojo throws, as if anyone was listening to him after their shitty match.
âso she throws a tantrum because she didnât see coachâs dick during halftime?â sukuna clips.
âshe looked super hot when she was all pissed though,â gojo throws, âsheâd definitely go for me after she realizes how old coach is.â
âwhatâs wrong with you?â geto rolls his eyes, confused how gojo can talk about your looks when you screwed them over. even if he maybe also finds you attractive, it doesnât negate your shitty attitude.
gojo throws his hands up in defensive, âIâm just calling dibs now.â
toji, just a few feet away, strides over after noticing the group no longer doing drills. âwhatâs the hold up!â he grunts, also in a shit mood because of the embarrassing match and then overheating what gojo had said.
âyour stalker fucked us over,â geto snaps, eyes burning into the school paper. âshe didnât even get a pic of you.â
gojoâs eyes light up, âoh shit, yeahâsheâs definitely over you!â
the paper then hits tojiâs chest, his brows furrowing as he holds it up. his eyes glance over the sports section, and just as geto had stated, there wasnât a single photo of him, unless youâre counting the wide shot of the field and you see him standing in the corner, but it definitely was a starch contrast from the streak youâd created.
âso?â toji tosses the paper like itâs nothing, âyou guys playing for the cameras or because you want to win?!â
the men baffled, gasp and scoff. âwe want to win!â
âthen get off your fucking asses! I donât have time to be doing this shit with you all!â he snaps aggressively, uncharacteristically pissed off, whether itâs because of the teams misdirected frustrations, or something else. either way, the school paper is long forgotten beside their bags and the team is splitting into practice teams.
it doesnât matterâŠ
it doesnât matter that you made a deal with suguru geto and satoru gojo. and the captain pushed you to seal that deal with the information about coach â and they broke it. none of it matters! you still shouldâve taken those photos, especially when youâre receiving an earful from your editor, and then sulking through the week of classes.
âwhatâs your problem,â your friend, shoko, cuts in, snapping you back to the campus day festival. you were once again sulking on the picnic bench, ice cream melting in the cup as you stare off.
âyouâre gonna get annoyedâŠâ you mutter, brows pinched in agony.
for most passing by, they immediately steered clear of you, not only did you carry a lethal rbf, your words of âagonyâ really translates to, youâll rip someoneâs head off and if looks could kill, everyone would be dead. it was quite funny, considering how youâre pretty sweet when you want to be, shoko quietly thinks. still, most would rather avoid you, thanking the heavens that you stay behind the camera so you donât interact directly with people.
âdonât start,â shoko groans, piecing together the not so subtle mystery.
you frown, âi didnât even say anything!â you whine even more, glaring at your ice cream. your pretty camera sits on the table beside you, collecting dust when you should be photographing this event. âI just screwed myself over,â your tongue laps at the dripping ice cream.
âagreed.â
your glare snaps to your friend, to which she brushes off with a shrug.
âyou shouldâve taken those photos,â she starts.
âI knowâŠâ
âthen you wouldâve made your editor happy,â
âI knowâŠâ
âand then you wouldnât have to do this event.â
âI know.â
âand youâd have more weird pictures of coach toji.â
your heart drops. eyes snapping to shoko. âwhat?!â
shoko goes mute. suddenly realizing what she said. ânothing.â
âpictures?â you repeat, âI have weird pictures of the coach?? I donâtâwhy would you even say that??â youâre not subtle at all. and shoko feels guilty at your horrible lying skills, but stillâŠshe confessesâŠ
âyou uploaded photos to your drive, when weâd study together,â she tries to hold in her laugh as heat crawls up your neck, âlike more than once.â
you glance away, eyes flicking over your camera, âthatâs it?â
shoko raises a brow. âyeahâŠwhat do you mean?â
you look back, âlike thatâs how you know, itâs not like you heard from someone else or anything?â
shoko shakes her head, âno, who else would know?â
your cheeks are burning at this point, and it was written all over your face now. the realization hit shoko in seconds. ânoâŠâ youâre silent. âdoes the coach know about your photos?â
you donât want to make eye contact.
âhow?!!â
even though it happened days ago, why is it now starting to feel even more embarrassing. maybe because of your cool headed friends reactionâ âit was an accident.â
âhow did he find out though?â shoko pushes.
you cringe, âwellâŠâ you swallow, âwhen I first spoke to him, rememberâŠâ shoko nods, âI let him use my camera because he was interested.â you pause, reliving the humiliation all over again. âthen he kept swiping to see the pics, and just found themâŠâ your hands slap your face, âthatâs not bad!â
shoko is getting second hand embarrassment, âdude.â
âSTOP IM GONNA KILL MYSELF!!â you cry out, humiliation seeping from your pores.
shoko is trying not to laugh, but itâs quite hard not too, especially when youâre groaning like that. âwhat was his reaction?â
âI obviously said it was an accident, and he was like whatever and seemed fine,â you explain quickly, trying to cool the situation. âItâs not bad!â
âokay okay!!â shoko laughs, trying to calm your reaction. however, shoko knows about your huge crush, what she didnât know is about a deal her two friends made with you. heck, she didnât even know that you interacted with them. not until those two men are standing directly behind you, sweaty and pissed. âwhat the hellââ
âI guess you donât know how to keep your word,â geto spits, bag dropping aggressively on the bench beside you.
you jump, then, your eyes flick over your shoulder, immediately rolling them when you see them. you turn back to shoko.
geto snaps. âthere wasnât a single photo of us!â
ânot my problem,â you scoff, attitude returning in seconds, shoko completely used to it. but sheâs shocked that you know gojo and geto. ânot like you guys even played well.â
gojoâs vein bulges, âwe played fucking good, we didnât lose!â
âyou didnât win,â you shrug, cold.
thatâs when gojo and geto both glance up at shoko. shock crossing their expressions. âyou know her?!â they both point down at you.
shoko raises a brow, âsheâs my friend.â
âsheâs a bitchââ geto spits, just to receive the worst glare of his life from you, but he just rolls his eyes. âhow the fuck do you know each other?â
âI just told you sheâs my friend. youâre the ones that screwed her over.â shoko takes your side.
gojo gasps, âwe didnât screw her over! she screwed us over! you saw the paper this weekânot a single highlight!â
you glance at shoko, ignoring the men behind you, âhow do you know them?â
âwe went to high school together,â shoko throws with a bored wave.
frustrated, geto straddles the bench facing you, his hand falls on top of your camera, immediately making you snap your attention to him.
âheyââ
âlisten. our deal was that you get access and then we get photos, you didnât finish your job,â he keeps a grip on your camera. shoko frowns.
âyou guys didnât give me accessâi got like ten minutes before the match, then I couldnât even go in during halftime where everyone was pissed, so whatâs the point?â you snap, getting in his face.
âthe point is that has nothing to do with me!â geto shouts, your eyes pierce his in two, but neither of you back down.
âit literally does though!â
âguys,â shoko and gojo attempt at intervening, but neither of you will back down. especially when geto wonât let go of your camera.
âlet go,â you seethe, hand on the camera as geto flexes, grip strengthening around it.
your heart pounds against your chest, the hot spring sun beats over the four of you, sweat building on your neck while geto scoffs. âyou better take those photos of us this weekââ
âor what?â you glare, âare you seriously threatening me?â you were dripping with ego and confidence, except for the fact that your eyes kept darting to your camera, your poor, expensive, beautiful cameraâ
âis this your first time being threatenedââ
âthe fuck.â
the deep, intimidating voice breaks the argument in seconds. getoâs eyes widen as he feels the gravity taken away from him and being lifted off the seat. the collar of his jersey tightens around none other than tojiâs brutal grip.
your eyes break into hearts, grasping your camera before it clatters back on the table, glancing up to see geto gripping his coachâs forearm.
âsince when do you fucking shout at girls. you?!â toji barks, baffled. sukuna sure, gojo maybe, but geto?!
âI wasnât fucking shouting, we were talking,â geto tsks, neck red from embarrassment.
toji shoves him back. geto slams on the bench. you hadnât realized it but they all looked like they just finished practice, geto and gojo both still in practice uniforms and duffle bags, and coach toji wearing his usual black cargos, and that compression shirt that left nothing to the imagination.
geto scowls, rubbing his back in pain.
âyou were shouting, thatâs why i came overââ
âshe was shouting at me!â
âso what!?â
the table is quiet. a few passerbyâs glance over before quickly walking away. it isnât a shock to know how unbelievably hot your face is right now. especially when coach toji continues his stern lecture to geto.
âyouâre defending some girl that canât keep her word, mind you,â geto mutters, flashing you a glareâhis breath catches. youâre not even looking at him!! shoko stifles another laugh along with gojo, because you really were, truly, unbelievable.
how can you look at someone like that?!? like heâs some idol?! him! a musty ass college coach?!
but none of it mattered, not when tojiâs attention shifts to you!!! a warm heat floods between your legs, as your lips part. then suddenly, you glance awayâŠ
âI actually did shout tooâŠâ you confess, taking accountability. âand kinda screwed them over.â
gojo, geto, and shoko, stare at you in shock.
toji sighs, like some grown ass man (which he is), his hand settles on his hip as the other scratches his hair like heâs surrounded by immature children and figuring out what the fuck to do with you all. so he decides to confess tooâŠ
âi told security not to allow any outsiders.â
your heart drops.
âincluding you.â
oh shit.
the three audience members immediately glance at you, and what none of them, not a single one, expected, is to suddenly see the your eyes tear up.
toji felt a sharp twist in his gut, eyes widening for a moment, before sighing. âit wasnât personal.â
your throat feels dry, unable to look away until now. a tear hits your camera. âhow is that not personal,â you whisper, bottom lip trembling.
shokoâs brows pinch in hurt, at least out of everyone, she knows how much and how long youâve liked this man. and then sulking and nowâ she knows youâre absolutely shattered.
âI needed the team to focus, and youâre press,â he states like some cold fact, and that hurt even more.
your grip tightens on the camera. âbutâŠâ your not a stranger anymoreâŠ. but you canât get the words outâŠyour heart pounds loudly in your ears, the heat surrounding you felt suffocating, and your head was growing dizzier by the second. and the only thing spinning in your mind was how fucking embarrassing this is.
âdonât be upset.â
you manage a small nod, though another tear falls on the camera, and your body freezes. âhow can i not be upset?â your small voice catches toji off guard.
youâre standing up, eyes hot with tears, walking past the esteemed coach.
âwait,â he catches your wrist, âif you have something to say donât just run away.â
youâre fuming, your pretty chest rises and falls, the disappointment turning into built up anger, âI donât have anything to say right now, and itâs stupidââ your hand twists in his grip. âlet go.â
he does.
youâre practically heaving, tempted to turn away, especially when the dryness in your throat gets worse. the stinging behind your eyes burns like hell as you try to rip your gaze away from the towering man. you really are stupidâŠ
toji wets his lip, head tilting as if disinterested, but the cooling in his chest says otherwise. why does he have a weak spot for women?
âwe can talk.â
his words hang in the air. a silent, open invitation for her. itâs a clear sign of his guilt for making this cute college girl cry. he was too blunt, forgetting she isnât one of his boys.
your hand comes up to the bridge of your nose, quietly recentering yourself as this older coach watches. your shoulders rise with a deep exhale, then inhale.
pull yourself togetherâŠ
you nod. cute.
you swallow the embarrassing lump in your throat, clearing your throat. âcan we talk while walkingâŠI have to work,â your usual clipped tone used for everyone except him, comes out, but he can hear the slight shakiness.
âsure.â
gojo, geto, and shoko are left in utter shock. itâs not until you and toji completely disappear into the crowd, do they slowly exchange looks.
âwhatâŠâ
âthe fuck,â geto finishes shokoâs sentence.
gojo stares baffled, âdid we just set them up?!â
getoâs brow jumps up, âwhy is he always saving her like some knight?? and he was the one that screwed us all over!!â
gojo shakes his head in agreement, ânah for real, what the hell, blaming us but itâs all him.â
geto slouches back in the picnic table, rolling his eyes. âstill,â he tsks, âshe didnât have to be so bitchy and not take our pictures. isnât it her fucking jobââ
âhey!â
âow!â geto feels a slap upside the head from brunette, her eyes harsh. âwhat the hell!â
âdonât call girls bitches whatâs wrong with you?!â shoko huffs, baffled by getoâs attitude.
gojo snickers beside the man, âheâs been like this since he met her.â
âI havenât,â he grits, rolling his eyes at the thought of you. âsheâs just aâshe just gets on my nerves.â
âreally because she reminds me of you,â shoko cuts him off. getoâs eyes widen, as gojo breaks into a loud laugh.
âWHAT?!â
âoh god BAHAHA she does!â gojoâs obnoxious laugh sounds like knives stabbing his ears.
shoko hums, âshe has that rbf look, intimidating, very blunt, but also so cute with her friends.â
âcute?â geto frowns.
gojo smiles, âit comes out when youâre hanging out with ussss.â gojo and shoko dramatically strike a cute pose. geto tsks.
the campus was packed with students and faculty roaming to booths and small events. it was the universityâs 102nd anniversary, and as memorable as it is for the students to enjoy the activities during this nice spring day, you couldnât bring yourself to give a shit.
not only did your editor scream at you all week, still pissed about the shit photos you took during the match, he also threatened removal if you didnât take good photos during this event. and now, after sulking with shoko, then procrastinating some more, you decided youâd be able to take such fanatic pictures while your idol and crush trails beside youâŠ.sure.
toji lets out another sigh, hands in his pockets as he stands to your left watching you snap some shots of laughing students beside a booth.
âitâs not a big deal,â you mutter, behind the camera. toji notices the twitch in your fingers. âI overreacted, so itâs whatever.â
toji wets his lip, âsukuna and a couple others jusâ get jumpy with cameras.â
you hum, looking at the photos you just took. âI understand.â
âI didnât know about this deal you did with geto,â toji admits, hand instinctively coming to your waist and guiding you away from some unaware boys shouting and laughing. your cheeks flush, stepping away from his hand. toji notices. âwe didnât have a good game anyways.â
âI know, so it whatever. not a big deal,â you sigh, heat crawling up your neck. this is so embarrassing, so embarrassing! ugh you really donât know how to keep a cool head at all when it comes to this coach. you overreacted during the match, then blamed geto for screwing you over, then almost cried because the coach locked you out on purpose, and nowâ
âI feel bad.â
your heart stops.
toji glances at your manicured nails holding your camera, your cute necklaces dangling on your exposed chest, cleavage glistening from the heat. but then his eyes flick up, and youâre staring at him like heâs holding the entire world.
âI didnât mean to make you upset,â his voice is softer, gentler, nothing like how youâve heard him for months, shouting, harsh. your stomach heats up, face stinging.
his hand, unexpectedly, comes up, feeling your hair between his fingers. âyou work hard, and all your pictures come out so niceâŠâ the compliment hits your heart. âbut I couldnât risk the boys getting distracted.â
your face suddenly twists, lips pursing and jutting out just a bit, your brows pinch. your dewy makeup makes you look like a fucking doll, he thinks. âI was jusâ gonna take photos in the corner, not interview them,â you reply harshly.
âyou saw how they are when they talk to you,â he cuts in. your brow quirks, noticing his sharp inhale. âsweetheart, youâre hot.â
your face bursts into flames, pupils turning to literal swirls, and brain getting fried in seconds.
what?!
your reaction was priceless. toji controls his smirk, thumb brushing your adorable cheek, glancing at your glossy lips then your eyes. âI know youâre a professional, but most of those boys arenât, yâ understand?â
you nod, cheeks sizzling, youâre surprised his thumb isnât burning.
âso you see why I couldnât allow you in the locker room then, and i wonât next time,â he watches you nod again. god, youâre fucking precious.
then, your tongue wets your bottom lip before speaking⊠âare they the only ones that wouldâve been distracted?â
shit. can a grown man really pop a boner that fast?
tojiâs chest heats up, glancing between your pretty eyes filled with hope. this isnât the first time a younger girl has crushed on him, and it also isnât the first time heâs nice to one. but what really got him, is the way youâre maintaining eye contact, almost afraid to look away, and youâre holding your ground against him.
âno,â he admits, âtheyâre not the only ones.â
oh. your lips curve into a smile toji hasnât seen before, and his hand flexes in response. you look like youâre going to eat him alive right there, and heâd let you, no questions askedâ
âthatâs good to hear,â you pull away. you touch your heated cheek with the back of your hand, wetting your lip as you glance over the coachâs flushed face. âyour cheeks are red.â
what?! his eyes bulge, catching you off guard as you break into a loud laugh.
âtch,â he looks away, his own hand rubbing down his face. it really is burning out here. but even so, his emerald eyes look through his fingers at this pretty college girl laughing at him and he doesnât know why his chest warms at the sight.
âI can buy you ice cream. I feel bad now that you had to explain yourself when I was just being the unprofessional one,â you start, already leading him to the nearest ice cream booth.
your camera hangs over your shoulder as you point to your favorite flavor than glance up at him, he points at the cookies n cream. âoh! I love cookies n cream,â you say, reaching for your phone to pay.
ding.
your eyes widen as toji pays instead.
âwhaâit was supposed to be my treat, man,â you huff, accepting the cone he gives you, hand on your lower back as he guides you away from the booth. neither of you batting an eye to the multiple people gawking at the renowned coach of their soccer team, walking around with the hot, rude, student photographer.
âas if Iâd let you pay,â he snorts.
your brows pinch as you take a lick of your ice cream, the cool sensation leveling your body temperature. your eyes narrow at him as he enjoys his ice cream, grateful to have something that cools the heat building up under his skin. âso not fair,â you mutter.
âhow come?â
the two of you walk across the quad, sun still beating down.
âI wanted to use it as an apology,â you say, âI said that.â
âyou donât need to apologize,â he shrugs, casual, unbothered. you huff again. this time toji smiles, scar twitching up. âyou can pay next time.â
your heart skips a beat, stomach doing a stupid flip.
ââŠ.next time.â
toji catches the smile behind your cone, his eyes trailing over the ice cream coating your tongue, your pretty hand wrapped around the waffle as your bracelets clank around your wrists.
âthereâs other things you need to apologize for,â he coolly says, finding a bench and dropping his weight, eyeing you as you sit close beside him. unashamed.
your brow quirks, eyes narrowing, full body facing him, âwhat other things?â
toji shrugs, âwe can talk about it next time.â
âbut I canât just be left in suspense, thatâll give me anxiety?!â
toji snorts, loud. his big tongue is finishing the ice cream so quick heâs already eating the cone. âdonât be anxious,â he says with his mouth full.
you tsk, rolling your eyes, and you donât notice the twinkle in the older coachâs eyes. he can definitely see getoâs point about your attitude, but if he leans overâ
your eyes go wide. stomach flipping.
he takes a bold bite of your ice cream, emerald eyes shut, and thick lashes kissing his flushed cheeks. your heart feels like itâll break from your ribs, then, he opens his eyes. he doesnât pull away yet, instead his tongue cleans his lips, humming in low delight. the heat around you wasnât helping your own body temperature as it skyrockets.
âtasteâs sweeter than mine,â his voice his huskier than before, catching you by surprise, and the heat pools between your legs.
âiââ you canât even form words! your eyes wonât tear away from his lips, and your chest is moving erratically because heâs so close.
âdo you want a taste of mine. I took a bite without asking yoââ
his words cut the minute your lips press against his.
shock prevents him from reacting, eyes going wide. you gave in so quick, sure he was teasing, but still. he could feel the certainty in your kiss, along with the warmth, and anxiety. after a long ten seconds you pull awayâ
you pant against his lips, chest rising and falling, brain scrambled. âi jusââŠâ your heart is beating loudly in your ears. mind trying to keep up with what your body just did. you kissed him. you kissed the coach. the one youâve been idolizing and photographing for monthsâ
âwe can do it again.â his free hand tilts your chin up, lips hovering over yours again. his breath is warm. âkiss me.â
you do.
this time youâre a little bolder. your lips connect with his, soft again, sucking his bottom lip, skillfully. slowly. he brushes your jaw with his thumb, humming in delight just like he did with the ice cream. but the sound goes straight to your core. completely unbothered by the rowdiness of the uni day activities around you. your free hand rests on his thigh, leaning more into the kiss.
âopen,â you murmur against his lips. you can feel the the shit-eating smirk that breaks his face, groaning just low enough to make the heat furiously spread under your skin.
then, his lips part.
his tongue immediately connects with yours. caressing the wet muscle. he tastes the ice cream, delving a little more. it was just so easy taking control, and your little whines are too sweet for him to stop. his jaw opens wider, taking the lead as you follow. his hand cups the side of your face, unexpectedly possessive, ignoring the alarms sounding off in his head.
you had a crush, youâre fucking adorable, and you kissed him. plus, you make these cute sounds when he shoves his tongue against yours, thumb pressing into your cheek. how could he resist?
your grip against his thigh tightens, his back is pressed fully against the bench, while you were practically leaning over him, trying to swallow him whole.
âbreathe,â he mutters, lips hovering close, waiting for you to inhale. his scar quirks up, youâre so cute. his thumb brushes your cheekbone again, eyes glancing between your fluttering lashes. âif we keep kissing, Iâll have a problem.â
your face burns, eyes darting down to the tent pressing up near your hand. and unlike toji, you let your second ice cream of the day melt and fall to the ground. you were a mess. you carefully lean back in your seat, the sudden space between you allowing you to take another deep breath. being near coach toji is intoxicating. itâs not that you didnât feel like yourself, but you definitely throw all common sense out the door when heâs in front of you.
âare you staying to see the booths and stuff?â you clear your throat, trying to ease your erratic heartbeat.
toji finds it cute. his hand once cupping your face, slides down to brush the hair off your shoulder, fingers brushing the multiple earrings that dangle from your piercings. youâre much more stylish than he isâŠyour accessories, the cute tank top that hugs your breasts, and embroidered low rise flared jeans.
ânah, gotta drive back home so i can take my son to practice.â
toji eases, not a single thing can bother him. it was a routine, the subtle throw away line about having a son that scared off many young women, or had them wanting a one night stand with the older dilf. so his eyes flick over you, the second he finishes his sentence.
your freeze.
your blood runs cold, eyes flicking down to his ring finger.
even if youâre looking, you know he isnât married. you know. youâve been photographing him for months, and not a single time have you ever seen him daunt a ring on his finger.
âthereâs no one waiting for him at home?â you question, wetting your lip.
tojiâs fingers slide from your earrings to the dried ice cream on your chin. ânah, if Iâm late heâll go to his friends house.â
you nod, anxiety slowly dissipating. âhow old is he?â
âten.â
your eyes light up, âmy nephew is just a year older, thatâs when they get really fun to hang out with,â your voice is so light and sweet, toji has to shove down the weird somersault his stomach does.
âreally?â toji is not convinced. âall my son does is give me attitude and bully everything i do.â
you laugh, waving your hand, âyeah they get super opinionated, but itâs funnyâtrust trust heâs just doing it because youâre an easy target.â
âIâm an easy target.â
you nod, waving a hand again, âyour his dad, my brothers and i were the same to our parents.â
brothers? toji doesnât comment how that peaks his interest, but he naturally asks, âhow many siblings do you have?â
âthree older brothers,â you nod.
damnâŠ.toji hums, that explains your attitude and how you can handle getoâs bitchy moods. what also quietly settles in his mind is how your oldest brother would probably be around his age, considering your nephew is a year older than megumi. is that why youâre easily holding a conversation this longâŠmaybe the age gap isnât that big thenâŠ
âthey were so freakin bossy, definitely why i pushed to dorm away from them,â you huff, toji zoning back into your rambling. it was cute watching you talk mindlessly, hands waving making your bracelets clank against each other. the sweat glistened across your skin, making you look eternal, which is amusing since youâre just talking.
but still, toji is the one to lean up this time. his hand settling on your waist as a anchor and he presses a firm kiss to your warm cheek.
your glossy lips part in shock, heart stuttering again. unbothered, toji casually stands up, towering over you as his hand gently settles atop your head. âi haveâta get going, but Iâll see you next week for the match. Iâll also let em know you can come in before and after the game, but not during halftime. okay?â
you nod.
âIâll see yaâ sweetheart.â
and with a wink, he solidifies the fourth arrow straight through your heart.
â
it was very likely that your entire week looked like sunshine and rainbows, all because you had a full on make out session with your idol on a park bench. you couldnât bring yourself to care much about anything elseâwell except for your job. you had to scramble to get photos after toji left, afraid of staying on your editorâs bad side.
luckily you pulled through, and convinced him to keep you on for the semi final match this coming weekend.
which leads you to your current blissful state. watching toji speak to the team in the locker rooms. unlike last time, you grabbed different shots, smiling every time toji glanced at the camera, but frowning any time any of the other boys looked.
âsurprise surprise, couldnât stay away too long,â gojo cooâs after the team breaks to finish changing.
âdonât bother me or I wonât take photos of you,â you throw, eyes flicking up at the tall man.
gojo pouts, âbut Iâm just talking to you,â his words drag.
geto is scowling a few feet away, jaw tightening and relaxing, until he finally comes up to you. your attitude shifts, eyes narrowing up. geto holds eye contact, chest rising with a subtle inhale. but once he exhales, his shoulders ease, and his eyes close, the fakest smile youâve ever seen graces his naturally attractive features.
âIâm looking forward to seeing your photos after the game.â
your lips purse, brow quirking. âyeahâŠâ
geto leaves. shortly after, the team gets called out. gojo utters the same line geto had just said, but much more cheerfully, all while toji walks up to you. brow furrowing at the two athletes as they walk towards the exit.
âthey still bothering you?â
your eyes light up the moment you see him. âsâ fine,â your pretty lips pull into an easy smile, unexpectedly warming the coachâs heart. is it that easy to smile because of him?
âIâll tell them to fuck off again,â his voice is naturally deep, hand subconsciously roaming up to the strap of your camera.
you smile, âokay.â
god, youâre really cute. his hand cups your cheek, leaning down and easily locking lips with you.
youâre immediately caught off guard, but his hand is so firm on your cheek, you just melt. your lashes flutter shut, leaning in more. heâs so big and tall. your cheeks sting, humming against his lips, trying to fight off the butterflies in your stomach. but itâs worse when he pulls away, and your heart leaps into your throat as he brushes his rough thumb against your lip, dragging the spit across the plumpness.
âIâll câya after.â he winks.
you barely feel your feet when you step back out onto the field. your camera in hand, strap tight around your neck, everything exactly where it should be, and still, your entire body is giddy.
tojiâŠ.toji toji tojiâ
you press your lips together, trying to fight it down, but itâs useless. your mouth keeps twitching, threatening to break into a smile and you canât help it! he kissed you. twice now! like it was nothingâ
you snap a shot.
sukunaâs first goal. the team and stadium erupts, and youâre already capturing it, body moving before your thoughts can catch up. you donât need your editor screaming at you this time, so you shift angles, crouch lower, shoot through. geto lines up for a penalty shot, and you catch that too. the strike, the follow-through, and the way the net snaps back as the ball hits. you donât miss a second of it.
butâŠinevitablyâŠyour lens driftsâŠto him. you canât help it!
tojiâs on the sidelines, where he always is. his sleeves are pushed up again, pacing, shouting, running a hand through his hair. you catch the flex of his arm, his biceps bulge and you feel heat pooling between your legs. you catch the drag of his palm across his broad huge chest, the set of his jaw when gojo almost tackles into another player.
you shouldnât be taking this many photos of him. you know that, but you take them anyway. your chest feels tight with every picture, cheeks still burning, and your smile impossible to get rid of.
halftime comes and goes, and you donât even try to get into the locker room this time. instead, you linger with the rest of the press, nodding along to conversations, camera hanging loose in your hands. you donât care. not really. not when your mind keeps replaying itâhis hand on your face, the way he looked at you after, the wink.
the second half starts and youâre back in position immediately. getting more action shots of the playersâugh but you keep stealing other moments tooâŠsmall unnecessary ones. his biceps when he folds his arms. the scratch of his chest. the tilt of his head as he watches the field.
your thoughts donât stop. why did he kiss you? why did he kiss you again? what is that supposed to mean? is he going to kiss you again??
the spiral doesnât fully come to an end until the pitch breaks out into celebration. the team is off to the finals!
managers and the rest of the team flood the pitch as the stadium breaks out. you do your best to get the best shots of the team together, and you stay after to capture them talking to journalists, and press. unaware of the coach that slips away.
you follow the team and a couple managers back to the locker room as they continue celebrating. you canât help the smile about how happy they are, they played well.
âhow was the match?â geto corners you quickly.
âgood,â you nod casually, fixing your flash. âyou guys played really well.â
getoâs brow quirks. thatâs niceâŠ.his lips purse. âI scored.â he mutters, glancing at the multiple piercings on your ear as you tuck a hair behind it.
âyeah, it was a nice shot,â your eyes flick over your camera before glancing up to meet his eyes, testing, âyou wanna see?â
his eyes narrow again, âno.â
heâs quick to ignore your eye roll, as he points over his shoulder. âcoach is calling for you.â
you canât control the way your head whips to geto, then following the direction heâs pointing at. you donât hesitate, your legs carry you across the locker room, and into the steamed shower room.
your heart hammers against your chest, putting the lens cap back on your camera and carefully sliding it off your shoulder, afraid to step further in until you put it back in your bag.
a single curtain is closed. shower running.
âcoach toji?â your voice echos.
there a beat of silence, thenâŠ
âthat you, sweetheart?â
you flush. controlling the smile that breaks your face as you hum, âyeah.â
the shower is still running, steam collecting in the room. your heart is beating erratically, you barely register anything aside from the fact that coach toji is definitely one hundred percent fully nude just a few feet away. his clothes are laid on his duffle on the bench beside the door.
âsweetheart?â
you jump. âyeah?â
âyou gonna come in?â
you blink. again, then once more. thenâ âWHAT?â
your screech bounces off the tile floors, making you shrink at how loud you are. but it was a normal reaction. he just asked you if you wanted to come in? how else would you reactâ
âleave your things by my bag,â he doesnât even react, like what heâs saying is the most casual kind of flirting. the kissing was one thing, but thisâŠ
your camera is zipped back in your bag, and in seconds, youâre peeling your panties off standing completely naked in the middle of a shower room. goosebumps break out, necklace and bracelets still on as your nipples harden.
whatâre you doing, seriously?
one, this is highly unprofessional (whatever). two, you havenât even gone a date with this man. and three, w-why would he even ask you to come in?!?! does he like you?! he doesâhe has tooâ
your bare feet pad against the steamed tiles until you reach the curtains. your hands wonât stop shaking, face burning hot, and lips parting as you let out a shaky exhale. then, you slowly pull back the curtainsâ
âcome in before someone sees you,â is what you hear just as youâre being dragged into the steaming water, curtain pulled closed behind you.
the steam wraps around your skin instantly, thick and suffocating. your pretty nipples perk up in seconds. and standing right in front of you is the 6â5 two hundred pound man. water cascading down his body in slow, steady streams. you donât even realize youâve stopped breathing until your chest tightens, and your hands hover close to his forearm.
youâre so close.
your gaze is eye level with his broad solid chest, rising and falling slow and controlled like none of this affects him. like you standing in front of him naked is something he expected. but your too dazed to care. especially when you follow the droplets sliding over his muscles, catching the shallow lines as you continue going lower, and lower. the heat pools more obviously between your legs as you see the thick patch of dark coarse hairâŠthen you see it.
your face burns hotter, stomach flipping hard making you even dizzier.
his cock twitches under your gaze. your knees almost buckle just at the sight. itâs huge. you have to suppress a whine, lashes fluttering as you feel a strong hand cup your chin.
âsay hi first,â his voice is unbelievably deep, tearing your gaze away from the monster between his legs. his dark forest green eyes sink into you.
âhi.â
shit. he bites back a groan, eyes trailing down your naked body. nipples already perky and standing all pretty for him. his hand comes up, cupping the side of your face as he leans down, lips colliding with yours.
you whine immediately. your lips move together, tongues colliding as your hands slide up his muscular chest, feeling the deep ridges of his abs as he holds the side of your face, dominating the kiss.
it was overwhelming, the shower box, his body heat, his cock touching your thigh, it was all making you dizzy in the best ways possible. he pulls away, letting you catch your breath, but he stays close, brushing his lips over yours like itâs not enough. because it isnât.
âdid anyone see you come in?â he husks, hand still cradling your face as the other brushes your naked waist, pulling you closer. your skin is so soft under his palm.
âno,â you shake your head adorably, tongue poking out to wet your lip, âI donât think so.â
the older coach hums, his hands freely roaming your side as he nudges your nose with his. âgood,â is all he adds before he resumes the heated make out.
your tongues collide and caress, jaw falling slack as you moan a little louder when he grips your ass. groaning into your lip when your arms lock around his shoulders, wet chest pressing against his. you were such a sweet tasting girl.
his hand nudges your thigh. âjump.â
you gasp when he easily picks you up, back already pressed against the tiled wall. the hot water cascades down his back as he continues kissing you. âwere you mad at me?â
you pull away, breath hot as you glance at his features. heâs so handsome, your hand cups his face, pushing his drenched raven hair back. âwhy would I mad?â
âbecause I kept ya out during halftime.â
you shake your head, lips curving as you trace his wet eyebrows, chest rising and falling. âno,â you drawl, wetting your glossy lips again. âI was jusâ confused about how much you kiss me.â
his scar tugs up, biting back a smirk threatening to break free. âyou kissed me first.â
âthat one time.â
âyou started it,â he leans close, lips brushing yours, âso you canât blame me for getting hooked.â his eyes are lidded. âitâs really hard for me to break bad habits.â
this time you kiss me.
youâre so unbelievably hungry for this manâs affection, you can ignore all the blaring red light going off in your head. heâs so hot, heâs so big, and heâs so fucking sexy! your mind has been completely and utterly fried and you donât care.
âfuck, youâre dripping,â toji husks, his finger collecting your juices from your pussy, groaning at how turned you are. âkissing me makes ya feel that good? your cunt always dripping like a fountain?â
âyeah-aahââ your lips part as he shoves a finger inside. he groans against you, chuckling at the choked whines leaving your pretty lips, your nails dig crescents along his shoulder.
his lips trail down your neck, tongue flattening against the wet skin and licking until you squirm a cute whimper. his smirk is impossible to hold back. he sucks a dark bruise as another finger pushes in your fluttering hole.
âc-coachââ you gasp, lips so wet from spit. you try to look down at his fingers pistoning inside you. every muscle on his body flexing, keeping you up like you weigh nothing, while fingering you against the little shower wall. âfu-fuck, Iâm gonnaâcu-uhmââ
it really is too much for your obsessed brain.
coach tojiâs fingers are inside you. heâs kissing you like heâs hasnât pleasured a woman in years. and his groans are going straight to your pussyâ
âI wanââŠcoachââ your whine drawls a little longer, thighs shaking, and arms locking around him, head falling to neck.
the older man chuckles close to your ear, voice deep and husky as you fall apart, in his arms. hugging him like heâs your savior. his fingers curl, slowly pumping you through your orgasm. âthat was quick. my baby hasnât cum in awhile?â he says as a matter of a fact, but you just hug him closer, lips pulling away to trail kisses up his neck. your fingers coarse through the back of his head, grasping them as you kiss the corner of his mouth.
âitâs bâcause of you, toji.â you kiss his scar, panting as he pulls his fingers out and lifts you up suddenly, hooking his arm under your knee.
âyou want a good fucking princess?â
you nod frantically, cheeks dewy and stinging, as you glance over his face then his chest, then you feel his cock between your slick folds.
âitâs a big stretch,â he mutters against your lips. âyou saw.â
you nod, nervous stirring at the way heâs preparing you. but you donât break away. you doubt you physically can, when your mind is only screaming his name over and over.
âI can take it, coach,â you nod, determined.
âyouâre so fucking cute,â he snorts, a light blush dusting his cheeks as he kisses your lips in quiet reassurance. âever take a cock this big?â
you shake your head, water droplets falling from the tips of your hair. your pretty necklaces still wrapped around your neck, all wet and glistening between your perky breasts.
âitâll hurt,â he strokes himself underneath you, thumb running over his tip multiple times before lining it with your pretty clit and teasing you. âthen youâre gonna cry.â you gulp, nodding along. âthen youâre gonna tell me to stopââ
âI wonât!â
he snorts. âitâs okay if you do.â
you shake your head, âI wonât Iâll be okay. okay coach? I can take it, I wanâ you inside me. please.â
the tug to his heart is immediate. how can it not be when this cute hot girl is begging him to fuck her? but he canât even formulate this emotional string thatâs tying him to you. the only physical response coming out is this fucking erection that feels like the most painful shit heâs experienced, twitching after he first spoke to you and then again when you kissed him. surely itâs disgustingâŠ.an older man like him getting that quickly turned onâŠ
but maybe it was the way heâs only felt this tug in his chest one other time in his life, and even if it didnât end the way he wanted, he never regretted pursuing his baby mama.
so heâs all in right now.
âdeep breath, sweetheart.â
you inhale sharply, just as toji pushes his engorged tip past the tight rim of your pussy, and you suddenly clenchâ
âshit!ââ
your eyes widen, âI donât feel anything,â you mutter, glancing down to see his ears burning a deep shade of red.
âyour cunt squeezed me too early and shoved me out,â he wets his lips, as he crashes his lips against you. ârelax, baby,â he husks.
you whine against his dominating mouth, lower body relaxing as he lines up again and the moment you ease up, he snaps his hips in.
âangh!ââ
your jaw slacks, and he continues kissing, groaning at the unbelievable tightness thatâs squeezing every corner of his tip.
âMmm so warm, took me in good,â he groans, rocking his hips and grabbing a handle of your ass. âyouâre gonna make me feel good?â
you nod, lips connecting with his, itâs messy, teeth clashing, spit mixing.
tojiâs guttural groan echos through the shower, bouncing off the tiles as he rocks his hips, going in inch by inch, until heâs finally shoving his entire length deep inside your cunt with one mean thrust.
âfhuckââ he chokes, jaw slacking as you clamp around him again. âfull?â
you nod, brain scrambled as you glance at your tummy, cheeks stinging at the obvious bulge. âkeep going,â you pant, securing yourself better as he grunts, pulling out and snapping his hips back.
it was mind numbing, toji holding you up with his strong arms hooked under your knees, hands gripping each ass cheek as he ruts into you like a beast in heat. the squelch and clapping was deafening as it bounced off the walls, the steam enveloping you closer as your whines flow right into his ear.
ânghhhâgettinâ me worked up,â thrust. âwhen you squeeze me,â thrust. âwith this tight.â thrust. âfucking.â thrust. âcunt!â
his massive cock is stretching you in ways you never couldâve imagined. his blunt tip slams into your cervix with every thrust. your thighs shake, eyes filling with unshed tears as your nails dig into his tough skin.
âmâ s-sorryâhaah ah coaâahh! it feels sâ fuhhâfuhâme ple-easeeâahh!â your pretty lips were so glossy, drool coming down as water droplets fall from your pretty breasts with each vicious slam of his hips.
he was unforgiving. and his laugh like groan didnât help your pussy from fluttering and tightening around his chubby cock. you can feel every thick pulsing vein and ridge. it was numbing your brain to mush. your fingers curled into his hair, tugging as he gives your ass a mean, violent, spank!
âangh!â your eyes bulge, a wave of heat crashing into you.
toji laughs, gripping your ass as he quickens his pace. âadmit it,â he husks, voice condensing, and eyes dark with lust. âthis is what yaâ wanted.â youâre falling apart around his cock, and heâs not slowing down, even as the tears finally break, making you look even more irresistible. youâre gasping like you canât breathe. âyou always wanted the coach to fuck you. taking those dirty photos of my bulgeânghh!â thrust. âimagining how big my dick is.â thrust. âhow big is it baby, tell me.â thrust!
you were fucked dumb.
your face is flushed, eyes glossed over, as you whine like a full blown slut. and even with your two orgasms in a matter of minutes. your mind was still screaming one thing: toji.
âcâmon baby, I know youâre still with me,â he snorts, ears red, and body flushed with sweat as he feels his climax edge closer. âtell meâfuckâhow big is it?â
your stupid brain catches his words, and your fingers dig into his neck as you gasp and moan, the stimulation of his massive cock slamming into you was ruining you. mentally and physically. it was humiliating. but stillâŠ
âhaahâfuh itsâ itâs so bigâ i wanâ you to cum in me! please âwanâ your cum so bad, wanna feel your big fat cock cum inside my pussy tojiâahh!â
anothet sharp spank takes your breath away.
toji is at a loss.
his grunts grew louder and thrusts sloppier, until finally, he gave you one final thrust, and stilled. his ass tightens, body pressing you into the tiled walls, face buried in your neck, and teeth sinking into your shoulder. toji completely unravels in the shower, holding up a pretty college girl that whines so beautifully in his ear he thinks heâd never cum this hard again, but sure enoughâ
your adorable whine has him rutting shallow thrusts into your pussy, like a fucking dog. his cum pumping out as he continued stuffing you full, purposely milking out ever drop as his dark wet pubes rubbed against your puffy clit.
you both catch your breath. your lashes wet from tears, as the water from the shower head fills the silence. after a moment, toji pulls away from your neck, his lidded eyes, hypnotizing as he stares up at yours.
you donât know why you suddenly feel shy. your cheeks burn as the emerald irises bore into your own. lips parting, and a gentle hand coming up to his cheek. you brush back the raven hair flattening against his features, smiling softly when his full face comes into view.
and he couldâve sworn you looked like an actual angel at this moment.
your eyes twinkled above, face illuminating in the dark shower, and body glistening like youâre an eternal being.
âtojiâŠâ the soft call has his heart doing something it hasnât done in years. and that has his soft cock twitching inside you. âIâm,â you lean closer, arms wrapping around his shoulder, lips hovering near his, breasts smushed against his chest. your confidence comes back the moment you feel the man lean closer..but you continue. âI hope you donât thinkâŠi wanted to have sexâŠjust because i thought your dick was really big.â
toji blinks.
then he does the worst thing ever.
he laughs.
your cheeks sting, watching his head fall back in loud laughter. your hand flys to your face, embarrassed. âIâm being serious!â you yell.
toji laughs louder, body shaking as he lifts you up, his cock slipping out. he carefully sets your shaky feet down on the wet tile. the height difference returns, making you even more ticked off, your little attitude was oozing out, and his slick cock couldnât help but twitch against his thigh at your pouting.
god, youâre fucking hot.
he brings your attention back to him. hands cupping your face, tilting your head to look up at him. your brows are pinched together, and lips pulled in a subtle scowl.
toji smirks. âdonât worry, I know you also took pictures of my face.â
you flush, rolling your eyes. âthose were accidents.â
âso you just wanted pictures of my dick?â
your eyes widen, âno! i told you they were all accidents.â
toji clicks his tongue, leaning down to your level, making your tummy flip âyouâre fucking cute, but letâs not lie to adults.â
âIâm an adult though,â you raise a brow, pushing back, and god if that wasnât the hottest thing ever.
but still, tojiâs easygoing smile remains on his playful lips, âitâs embarrassing. i understand,â he softens the blow as your face heats. it was humiliating when he found those pictures, âtaking photos of the coach like that. but nowâs the time to take some accountability.â
you lick your teeth, eyes boring into him, narrowing. but itâs toji. toji is asking. and you canât hold back any longerâŠ
you exhale, glancing away, even though heâs still cupping your face. âyeah, obviously I took those photos on purpose,â your eyes meet. âhappy?â
water is still running down his shoulders as he keeps your face tucked carefully in his hands like youâre something precious despite the grin threatening to split across his face again.
but then toji smirks. âecstatic.â
your eyes narrow immediately, âyouâre so annoying.â
he huffs another laugh under his breath, quieter this time, thumbs brushing over your heated cheeks. standing this close to him is ridiculous now that the adrenalineâs settling. heâs huge. his broad chest still damp against yours, muscles flexing every time he shifts, towering over you while you stand there completely naked except for the necklaces youâre wearing. the little gold chains glisten under the shower head, delicate against flushed skin, and tojiâs eyes flick down to them for a second before returning to your face.
that look in his eyes makes your stomach tighten all over again. he knows heâs not trying to be mocking, or casual like before. itâs fondness.
âthose shots were real creative, sweetheart,â he says, voice rougher now. ânice and close too.â
you groan, immediately trying to shove his chest, but he barely moves. âoh my god, can you let it go already?â
âcanât,â he answers easily. âbeen thinkinâ about it for weeks.â
your face burns hotter. weeks?!
toji watches it happen in real time, watches the attitude crack just enough for embarrassment to slip through, again. and it does something terrible to him. youâre sharp with everyone elseâcool, hard to impress. heâs seen it. seen the way you brush off gojo and geto without a second thought. but with him? you melt.
even now, glaring up at him with your brows pulled tight, lips still swollen from kissing, legs trembling from the multiple orgasms, trying so hard to stay irritated while your body keeps betraying you. itâs fucking adorable.
âdonât look at me like that,â you mutter weakly.
âlike what?â
âlike you know things.â
his grin widens instantly. âbut i do know things now.â
what proceeded after was the thirty something year old coach, dropping to his knee and lifting your leg up, burying his face between your legs like a starving man. your lips part in shock.
but still, as toji works your pretty body to another orgasm, tongue shoved inside, cleaning this little pussy up, jaw slack as he gulps down his own cum. your fingers thread through his hair, tugging whenever heâd give your clit a mean rough suck, cheeks hollowing. his hand, grips your ass from behind, squeezing and slapping as he pleased, until you were falling apart.
afterwards, he cleaned you up. this time with some soap. his big hands roamed your body, every crevice and curve, hands massaging your breasts as he had your back pressed to his chest, chuckling when youâd whine. thumbs tugging playfully. hand rubbing between your legs, head tucked in your shoulder as he watches your smaller hands hold his forehead, face hot.
âtoji,â you whine, embarrassed, as he teasing a finger against your hole again.
âwhat,â he smirks, watching your reactions, âIâm jusâ cleaning you up.â
heâs a fucking perv. but still, he teases you through the whole shower, keeping you close to his body and even letting you wash his back, admiring the muscles and ink that decorate his skin.
eventually, he steps out first, keeping you inside so he can grab an extra towel. his own wrapped around his waist.
that was the start of all of it.
three months laterâŠ.
you and shoko are sitting out in the quad. table covered in assignments and forgotten laptops. all while you explained to shoko how your weekend went.
âno, we definitely got along. megumi is so cute!â you gush about the ten year old, describing how your first meeting went. toji had spoken about you enough to prepare megumi, waiting until the right time to introduce you both.
and now, youâre going to every single one of their soccer games, toji and megumiâs.
and eventually, after another hour passes by. a group of athletes comes walking down the path. covered in sweat, holding their duffles, and behind them is a very hot coach, already breaking into a smile when you jump up.
âtoji!â
it was a routine. your arms thrown around his shoulders, as he lifts you up with one hand. zero regard for any pda, as he kisses you deeply. smiling as you hum, pecking him over and over.
âwhy do you guys look like that?â shoko grimaces, looking at gojo and geto who look far worse than the rest of the team that leave.
geto scowls, glaring at his best friend, âfucking coach overhead him again.â
shoko shakes her head, rolling her eyes, at the white haired idiot. âyou need to stopââ
âitâs been three months and sheâs not over that old man?!â
âheâs not even that old!â shoko defends.
but gojo scowls harder, glancing over his shoulder at you laughing and talking, hands animated, like the man in front of you was holding the world. âitâs always the mean girls.â
shoko frowns, âyouâre messed up in the head.â
but even geto narrows his eyes when toji wraps a possessive arm around you, glaring up at the two players.
it was clear as day.
youâre his.
a/n: this was LOONG overdue, mb guys!!! but i hope you all enjoyed it!!! ahhhh i love coach toji sososososo muchâlike its a serious problem, i cant make reader behave normally when its toji, like she has to be obsessed with himmm
anyways, the next oneshot will def be the frat gojo fic! possibly thinking of frat geto after this oneshot too bc i put in some little easter eggs about how they both kinda lean into mean girls so stay tuned! â (divider by @/strangergraphics)
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sukuna accidentally had the wrong "movie" opened | 18+
salacious gasps and breathy sighs emanate through the speakers right as you open the browser, pulling a surprised noise from you as you're greeted with the lewd sight of a woman's spread thighs.
light from the laptop screen flickers against your face, washing the room in a dull blue glow that centered entirely on the midsection of the woman. the soft curve of her stomach dipped and rose with each shallow breath. a cute set was adorning her supple skin, the fabric of her top pressed into her waist, creating a gentle swell that felt almost tangible through the glass. to him, the slight fold of skin above her navel was tantalizing, so human and plush.
âam i wet?â her lascivious voice asks as her slender fingers pull her boyshorts to the side and stroke the puffy petals of her glossy pussy, smearing her glistening slick all over herself, her clit aching for a touch all swollen and twitchy. âam i wet for youââ
âoh!â you jump when the laptop is slammed shut by a very embarrassed sukuna who's so red, you think he may burst.
âi'm so fucking sorry! t-that's not the movieâi mean, it is a movie but not the one i wanted to play.â
just his fucking luck to screw things up after months of trying to get you to hang out with him. sure, you've spent time with him before but in group settings, it's quite difficult to get your attention over gojo's loud cackles and toji's dirty jokes.
he's finally got you right next to him, the ac on blast since he runs hot quickly, especially in the presence of his crush who's snuggled up against his bulging bicep because you're cold. and maybe, hopefully, you like him too.
the pink-haired man is the epitome of chivalry, eyes never straying down to the plump swells of your tits pushed up by your bra, sitting pretty in the henley you're wearing. your hair is down, neat and scented with something citrusy that melts on his tongue like an ice lolly and meshes with your mouthwatering perfume in a dizzying cocktail.
ârelax,â you chuckle, unaffected by what you just stumbled upon, eyes bright. âi shouldn't have clicked on the browser without asking first. that was rude of me,â you tell him honestly.
besides, you're young adults, there's nothing to be ashamed of. you're a sexual creature yourself so you're not going to run for the hills just because he's got some porn on his computer.
âare you sure?â he asks, cringing at his own wobbly voice. it does not match the tattoos crawling up his bulky body. âthe last thing i want is to make you uncomfortable or think i invited you over to make out under the pretext of watching a movie.â
that has your eyes bowing, bottom lip pushing out slightly in what looks to be disappointment that has his heart lodging in his throat. shit, did you want to make out with him? is he fucking this up? end him now.
âam i not your type or something?â you question, peering up at him with those big, beautiful eyes that tease him in his sleep.
eyes widening, his arms flail, nearly smacking youâbut you fortunately dodgeâas he shakes them frantically, trying to salvage this not-so-date. ân-no, i justâi didn't want to come on strongââ
laughter cracks through his panic, your giggles fluttering in the air as you cover your mouth, gaze sparkling with mirth. god, you're so pretty like this, bathed in the silver glow of the moonlight peeking through his curtains.
âi'm messing with you, ryomen,â you chuckle, his name pouring from your mouth like the sweetest honey, so fond and syrupy. âyou're so cute when you ramble.â
âoh,â he mumbles, the tips of his ears as pink as his unruly tufts of hair.
âwe don't have to kiss,â you reassure him, nudging him with your elbow playfully.
scratching the back of his neck, he gives a weak chuckle, lips tingling in anticipation at the thought of his mouth on yours, smooth and sticky with your cherry lip gloss.
is it flavoured or just scented? would it stain his lips after, letting anyone who sees him know that you kissed him?
âokay,â he says with a nod though there's a sliver of disappointment in his tone.
humming, you press against his arm, leaning most of your weight on him, your stomach flipping like a pancake when he barely budges.
âif you want to kiss my other pair of lips though~â
sukuna almost gets whiplash with how fast his head snaps to the side, scarlet eyes bulging once more as he gapes like a fish, jaw falling through the floorboards, his stomach dropping to the ground floor of his apartment complex.
âw-what?â
âkidding!â
âhaha, yeahâŠâ
âfuck, you're adorable,â you giggle again, the tinkling sound tapering off into a moan as your eyes flicker to his lips that he's nibbling on, so soft and inviting. his breath is sweet and fruity from the spritzer he drank just now.
you close the distance and slot yours lips over his.
a shocked gasp kicks out of his chest, his hands hovering at your waist and his lips as hard as stone against your mouth. worried you read the room wrong, you go to pull back.
with a gravelly groan, his eyes slide shut, a large hand cupping the back of your head, carding through your strands and drawing you back to him in a hot open-mouthed kiss.
lazy, wet and messy, your lips move over his, hands roaming over his arms, squeezing at his flexing muscles, grinning into his mouth, teeth clicking against his when his belly shudders against yours.
sukuna's head is spinning, he can't believe this is happening, that you're on his lap, soft and pliant and making out with him and it's not a dream he'll be forced to wake up from.
greedily, his tongue slithers into your mouth, sucking on yours sloppily and licking every spot he can reach, moaning at your buttery taste as you gasp cutely against his lips.
tingles tickle his groin, his cock stirring as arousal coils tight in his belly. horny and desperate, his big palms rest on your hips, fingers hooking into the loops of your shorts as he ruts up against you, a hitch pitched squeak coming from you as you feel something thick and warm rubbing between your thighs.
âmâ sorry, baby. i'm so sorry, i can't help it. you're just so soft nâ so fuckinâ pretty,â he whimpers into your mouth, lips pulling your bottom one into his mouth and suckling on it clumsily, teeth sinking into it until you're whining and rocking down on his fattening bulge.
âgosh, i could just eat you up,â you grumble, fingers curling into his coral strands and tugging, making his skin crawl pleasantly.
the feeling is very much mutual. sukuna thinks he might die if he doesn't get your tits in his mouth right this instant.
fumbling with the hem of your top, he crumples it and lifts, blood whooshing in his ears, heartbeat in his cock as your plush bare skin is revealedâ
but he pauses, gaze dropping down, hazy and blurry as his eyes narrow in confusion, choppy breaths slowing.
there, low on your hip and disappearing into the waistband of your shorts, is a tattoo.
a very familiar tattoo.
âis thatââ his fingers dart out to trace the ink etched into your flesh but you abruptly pull your top down, the desirous heat in your eyes clearing.
âah, yeah. kind of embarrassing,â your laugh is forced and awkward as you hook a manicured finger into the neckline of your top. âhere, i'll unbutton this, it'll be easierââ
thick brows lower in suspicion as he tentatively picks up your top again, fisting the fabric tightly so you can't yank it down.
âsukuna,â you call out helplessly, wanting him to stop looking at the incriminating ink on your midriff. âkiss meââ
âit's you, isn't it?â he muses more to himself than you as realisation dawns him, crimson eyes lighting up in piercing recognition as they drag back up to your guilty ones.
swallowing hard, you say nothing. you can't deny it now.
huffing out a disbelieving breath, he slumps against the backrest of the couch with a faint smile, brows high as he shakes his head, wetting his lips. his fluffy, touseled hair bounces.
âno wonder you weren't upset about the video. you're the girl that's in it. i'd recognize that tattoo anywhereââ
âso you watch those often?â you cock a knowing brow because how else would he instantly know it's you from some ink?
face heating, he frowns. âdon't change the subject.â
shoulders slouching in defeat, you run a hand through your hair, pushing it back into a luscious, voluminous slick back.
âyeah, it's me.â
here it comes, the inevitable disgust that men develop when they find out that you make adult content. as if they don't fuck their fists to it every night, pupils blown and reflecting your videos playing on their screens.
making it easier for him, you go to climb off his lap only for his hands to grip you firmly, keeping you in place.
confused, you glance up, breath hitching at the sight of him. pinched brows, clenched jaw and his inky pupils eating up his carmine irises until they're just thin rings of red.
âwill you let me fuck you in the next one?â
neat little knots twist in your stomach, forming a net to capture the butterflies that start to swarm there, fluttering around frantically.
âuh, if you want to, yeah,â you agree with a wavering smile, blinking as you're still dumbfounded by the unexpected yet welcomed response.
his severe expression breaks then, scowl shattering like a broken plate, a grin slicing across his cheeks, canines glinting. âgod, you're fucking perfect.â
all this time, sukuna had been drawn to that page because the anonymous woman had a similar body and voice to yours. he'd watch her videos and imagine you so finding out that you're her is fucking amazing.
massive arms engulf you in a bone-crushing bear hug that punches the air out of your lungs, a little âoof!â puffing out of you followed by an incredulous laugh.
âwould it be weird if i asked to be your boyfriend now?â
âœâââââââ gojoâŠscores a date. ââââââââ„
a/n ~ whoops friends ive been busy... ahahah.... i work so many hours now i want to die <3 taglist CLOSED! enjoy, next part will be the last part (and u already know what happens in that one hehehe)
access the verse here !!
itâs been two days since gojo got your instagram, and in those painful near-48 hours of silence from you, heâs learned that he cannot sit still for the life of him.
heâs been pacing around the living room for ten minutes, phone in hand, locking it, unlocking it, opening your profile, closing it, opening messages, closing them.
âjust text her,â toji says from across the room, not even looking up.
âiâm not just gonna text her,â gojo shoots back immediately.
âyouâve opened the chat like six times.â
âiâm thinking.â
âyouâre overthinking,â geto corrects, glancing up from his book.
gojo scowls, flopping back onto the couch dramatically. âthereâs a difference.â
âno there isnât.â
he stares at the ceiling again, phone resting in his palms, thumb hovering.
what do i even say.
he scrolls your profile again for the fiftieth time like inspiration might strike him, and then a story notification pops up.
gojo freezes and waits a respectable twenty seconds (which he doesnât think of as desperate, but rather curious) before tapping it. itâs a picture of a matcha cup, sunlight hitting the table youâre at - some outdoor cafe - with the location tagged.
gojo sits up so fast he nearly drops his phone. âokay,â he says. âokay, this is my in.â
âyour âinâ,â toji asks lazily. âwhat is it.â
ânothing.â
gojoâs already typing. stops. deletes. types again. deletes again. âthis is stupid,â he mutters.
âyouâre stupid,â toji replies.
gojo ignores him, brain racking to find a way to make âheyâ sound cool and not sleazy.
gojo: is it good should i go
he stares at it. and sends it before giving it another thought.
âfuck,â he says, chucking his phone across the room to the other couch, and lasts four seconds before heâs springing up again to check his alerts.
âdonât double text,â geto reminds him calmly.
âiâm not gonna double text.â
you donât reply. itâs been one minute. two. five, and gojoâs back to pacing.
âsheâs not gonna answer,â toji says.
âshe is.â
âsheâs not.â
âshe is.â
bzzzt.
gojo goes still again and opens his phone.
you: itâs good
he exhales like he just ran a marathon. âshe replied,â he announces.
âcongrats,â toji says flatly.
gojo: worth the trip
you: depends who youâre going with
gojo stares at that for a second, then slowly grins.
oh.
oh.
he leans back, suddenly feeling like the room tilted in his favor.
gojo: guess iâll need a good recommendation then
he watches the three dots appear and disappear like itâs reality tv.
you: iâm not recommending anything to you
he huffs out a quiet laugh.
gojo: we should go together sometime so i can make sure itâs good
thereâs a longer pause this time, long enough for doubt to creep in. oh god, iâm gonna get ghosted already.
you: youâre persistent
his grin widens.
gojo: iâve been told
gojo: let me take you
his thumb taps nervously against the screen now.
your phone is in your hand, half-finished matcha on the table across from you, and the faintest smile on your face.
you: no
gojo: okay
your brows furrow slightly. okay? that's...it?
gojo: how about coffee
unbelievable.
you: no
gojo: tea
you: no
gojo: juice
you: no
gojo: water
you stare at your phone. you can practically hear him saying it. you press your lips together, fighting a smile.
you: you're not funny
gojo: please? i'll buy whatever fancy matcha order you have
gojo: my treat
your friend looks you over, narrowing her eyes slightly. "you're texting him."
you don't even look up. "i'm not."
"you're smiling."
"i'm not smiling."
"you literally are."
you drop your phone onto the table. "i'm not texting him."
she leans forward, a glint in her eye. "then who."
"no one."
she doesn't believe you for a second.
"give me your phone."
"no."
she lunges across the table, unlocking it quickly (you internally curse yourself for having told her your pin, a while back), eyes scanning over the text thread with a grin.
"oh my god."
"give it back."
"you're so into him."
"i'm not into him!"
"you're literally setting up a date."
"i'm notâ"
she's already typing. your eyes widen, heart thumping in fear, and you reach your hand forward to grab your phone, but she ducks.
"i swear to god, what are youâ"
"and done! i sent."
your throat feels tight. "what. did you send."
she grins, waving your phone in front of you, and tossing it back. "i just sent what you were thinking."
you scramble to unlock it, looking at the screen.
you: okay
your heart drops into your stomach. âoh my god.â you stare at her, head feeling light all of a sudden. âwhy would you do that.â
she shrugs, completely unbothered. âbecause you were going to say yes anyway.â
âi was not.â
âyou were.â
âi wasnât.â
she just smiles, slow and knowing. âyouâve got this whole act on. i can see right through you.â
you open your mouth to argue then close it.
because, annoyingly, she's not...entirely wrong.
your phone buzzes and you both look down.
gojo's heart has never raced so fast in his life. he closes instagram five times and tries to distract himself with reels, waiting for you to answer, and when your message comes in, his hands even shake a little.
(thank god toji and geto can't see that. he'd never live it down.)
he opens it, reads it once. twice, because there's no way...
he actually stands up. âyes,â he says out loud.
toji looks over. âwhat.â
âshe said yes.â
geto smiles. âto what part.â
gojoâs already typing again, faster now.
gojo: weâre not just doing matcha
gojo: weâre making it a whole thing
gojo: matcha
gojo: then something
you: something like what
he grins, pacing again now, circling around the coffee table.
âokay,â he mutters. âokay, think.â
gojo: you tell me
you stare at the message.
you: art gallery?
you smirk slightly. that should do it. that should scare gojo off. there's no way he'd agree to an art gallery. he's the type to get bored in five minutes, who'd complain, and who'd ruin the outing.
you send it, look up at your friend all triumphantly.
âthere,â you say. âproblem solved.â
she raises a brow. âyou think thatâs gonna scare him.â
âyes.â
your phone buzzes immediately.
gojo: amazing
gojo: art gallery it is
gojo: matcha, gallery
gojo: whole afternoon
you stare at your phone, face falling. ââŠwhat.â
your friend leans over, reading, then laughs. âoh, youâre in trouble.â
âheâs insane,â you mutter.
âwell, now you've got a nice little date set up,â she teases, and you glare at her.
âthis is your fucking fault.â
âplease. you have me to thank.â
you stare at his messages, but your heart does that weird thing again, and you hate it. just a little.
meanwhile, gojo drops back onto the couch, staring at the conversation like itâs the best thing thatâs ever happened to him.
âheâs smiling like an idiot again,â toji says.
âheâs gone,â geto agrees.
gojo doesnât care. heâs already planning it out in his head. matcha, then art gallery. if he's lucky, maybe a walk in the park after.
he hates art galleries. hates them. he winced when he saw your text but knew it was a tactic to push him away.
ha. like that would work.
he giggles like a schoolgirl. toji and geto share an unimpressed look.
you're standing in front of your mirror a few days later, staring at your reflection.
this is stupid. you shouldnât care this much. it's just matcha and an art gallery with a guy you don't even yes sort of really like.
you adjust your outfit anyway, fix your hair, step back. frown. ââŠwhatever.â
your phone buzzes on your bed.
gojo: i can pick you up
you stare at it for a second.
you: iâll just come to your place
you: i have to drop something off for choso anyway
three dots almost immediately.
gojo: oh
gojo: okay
gojo: iâll be here
you donât know why that makes your chest feel weird.
you ignore it, and ignore it even more when you pull up in the frat's driveway a half hour later, your chest bubbling up annoyingly. you hesitate for a split second before knocking.
geto opens the door after a moment and he blinks. "...hi."
you tilt your head slightly. "hi."
thereâs a pause, a noticeable one, like his brain lagged for a second. "come in," he says finally, stepping aside, but his eyes flick over you again like heâs recalibrating something.
you step inside, glancing over at toji, who's sprawled on the couch, mid-scroll, and he doesnât look up until geto shuts the door.
"who isâ" he looks over and stops, mouth hanging open slightly. "...oh. uh."
you glance between them, unimpressed already. âis this a staring contest or..â
toji huffs out a quiet laugh, sitting up a little. ânah, justââ
geto clears his throat lightly. âyou look nice, y/n.â
you give a small, flat nod. âthanks.â then you hold up the textbook in your hand that you brought from home.. âwhereâs choso?â
âkitchen,â geto says, still watching you like heâs trying not to be obvious about it.
you walk past them, completely unfazed. toji leans toward geto the second youâre out of earshot. âis she hotter than i remember or am i tripping?â
geto exhales quietly. âsatoru's cooked.â
you find choso quickly, hovering near the counter like usual. âhey,â you say, holding out the book. âyou needed this, right?â
choso looks up, a little startled. âohâthanks, y/n.â he takes it carefully, like it matters more than it should. âyou didnât have toââ
âi was in the area,â you cut in. you glance around, fighting back an eyeroll at the thought of gojo. "...where is he?"
choso blinks. "oh, i thinkâ"
before he can answer, a door down the hall opens, and gojo walks out.
and shit, that nagging voice inside you tells you he cleans up good. he's in dark linens, a pair of sunglasses pushed up through his white hair, and he's halfway through adjusting his sleeves when he looks up and sees you.
he stops mid step completely, like someone hit pause. his mouth opens and closes, all rational thoughts evaporating into steam as he looks at you, heart squeezing in his chest. ââŠhi,â he manages intelligently. âerm. hi.â
you raise a brow slightly. âhi.â
heâs holding flowers. a pretty bouquet of pale pink tulips, held loosely in his hand as he just stands there, like he forgot how to function.
itâs quiet for a second too long.
gojo blinks like he just remembered he has a body, and walks toward you a little too fast, then slows down halfway like heâs trying to look normal.
fails.
âthese areâuhââ he starts, then clears his throat. âfor you.â
he holds the flowers out. you look at them, then at him. ââŠthanks,â you say, taking them.
he nods too many times. âyeah,â he says. âyeah.â
silence again.
geto and toji are very much watching this from the living room. toji looks like heâs holding in laughter and geto looks like heâs witnessing a historical event.
gojo straightens slightly, trying to gather whatever remains of his usual composure. âshall we,â he says, a little too formally.
you glance at him then to the door. âalright.â
he exhales softly in relief and holds the door open for you, swallowing thickly as he catches a waft of your perfume as you walk by. he looks back at toji, who facepalms, and choso, who gives him a supportive little thumbs up. getoâs still stifling laughter.
âokay,â gojo mumbles under his breath. âi got this.â
he catches up to you, opening the passenger door, and you slide in as he circles around to the driverâs side, hands gripping the wheel for a second before he starts the car. he glances at you then away quickly, his palms feeling sweaty.
âyou look really pretty,â he says, quieter this time.
you glance at him. ââŠthanks.â
gojo clears his throat. âare you excited?â
âno.â
he nods. âright. sorry. iâm, uh, excited.â
âthatâs nice,â you say, looking out the window, and gojo canât help but glance at your sweater dress again, and the way it hugs you so perfectly.
the car ride is silent. not awkward, but the air is thick and almost charged, as gojo restlessly taps his fingers against the steering wheel and you stare out the window, tulips still in your lap.
gojo keeps glancing at you. quick, almost stolen looks, like heâs checking something and then pretending he didnât. naturally, you notice, and at first you ignore it, until his fingers start tapping against the wheel, stopping, and starting again so much, and he keeps looking at you, biting the inside of his cheek, that you have to squeeze your eyes shut in annoyance
his mouth opens and closes like he wants to say something.
you give him a minute, then another, and he keeps looking at you, eyes darting away when you make eye contact, that you sigh, turning your head fully now. "just ask me."
he startles a little. âwhat?â
âwhatever youâre thinking,â you say flatly. "you've been deliberating for almost five minutes.
he huffs a quiet breath. ââŠiâm notââ
âyou are.â
he hesitates, glancing at you then back at the road. ââŠwhy did you say yes,â he asks finally, slower now. âif you hate me.â
you blink before looking away again, out the window. "...i don't hate you."
"well, you act like it."
âi act like youâre annoying.â
âsame thing.â
âitâs not.â
he glances at you again. âthen what is it?â
your fingers shift slightly around the stems of the tulips in your lap, and you huff softly. "i guess you're not that insufferable."
a slow, shit eating grin spreads on gojo's face, and you immediately regret what you just said.
"high praise," he says, and you scoff, rolling your eyes.
"i take it back. you are insufferable."
"alright," he says lightly, turning the corner into the lot, and you feel that little buzz under you're skin you've been pretending isn't there when gojo's pretty blue eyes blink at you softly after he parks.
you just unbuckle your seatbelt and reach for the door, swallowing thickly. âyou parked too far.â
âmm,â you hum, stepping out anyway, shrugging whatever that feeling was out of your bones, and he watches you walk ahead for half a second, then scrambles out after you.
inside, it's warm and bright, and you curl your fingers into the sleeves of your sweater dress, looking up at the menu as you step up to the counter.
âwhat are you getting,â gojo asks, stepping up beside you and leaning low to talk into your ear, you nearly shiver.
âstrawberry matcha,â you say. âsmall.â
he hums, but when you open your mouth to order he smoothly cuts in. âtwo strawberry matchas, and make both large, please.â
you turn your head slowly. ââŠi said small.â
âi heard you.â
âthen why did you order large.â
he shrugs, already handing his card over. âbecause i wanted a large.â
âthen get a large.â
âi did.â
âand mine?â
âalso large.â
you stare at him. âi got a small for a reason.â
âwhat reason?â
you hesitate. â...dunno, because you're paying, and i didn't wanna be rude.â
he looks at you, grinning. "oh, now we're scaling back the rudeness?"
you glare, shoving his arm slightly, and he laughs, the barista looking at you two with a little smile. she calls your order a minute later and gojo grabs both cups before you can. of course he does.
he hands yours over, fingers brushing yours for a second longer than necessary. you ignore it, and ignore the rush you feel.
âthank you,â you say, because you have manners.
âyouâre welcome,â he says, like heâs a gentleman.
you narrow your eyes slightly, then turn toward the door. âoutside.â
âyes, maâam.â
âstop.â
he grins, following you out anyway. you pick a table in the back, half in the sun, and gojo sits across from you, sliding his sunglasses down his face before wrapping his hands around his drink.
you take a sip of your matcha first and he watches you like it's some kind of test. you lower the cup. ââŠwhat.â
ânothing,â he says quickly, taking a sip of his own. he makes a face, coughs slightly.
you catch it immediately. ânice.â
âi didnât say anything.â
âyou made a face.â
âiâm adjusting.â
âdo you not like matcha?â
â...it tastes like grass.â
you exhale, looking up at the sky like the conversation is paining you. âthen why'd you ask to come here?â
âcause you like this place,â he says simply.
you look at him wordlessly and take another sip of your drink.
âso,â he starts, leaning back slightly. âwhatâs your major.â
you glance at him over the rim of your cup. âwhy.â
âbecause i donât know anything about you.â
âyou donât need to.â
âi want to.â
you pause. âpsych.â
his brows lift. âreally.â
âyeah.â
âthat explains a lot.â
you narrow your eyes. âwhatâs that supposed to mean?â
he gestures vaguely toward you. âyou analyzing me this whole time.â
âiâm not analyzing you.â
âyou definitely are.â he shakes his head, smiling a little. âokay, miss psych major. whatâs your diagnosis.â
you study him for a second, eyes lingering long enough to make him shift slightly in his seat. âinflated ego,â you say finally.
he gasps, mock offended. âwow.â
âwith a tendency to talk before thinking.â
âokay, thatâsââ
âand,â you add, cutting him off, âa little bit desperate.â
he leans back, squinting at you. âa little bit?â
âa lot a bit.â
he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, studying you like heâs trying to decide if youâre serious or not. âdesperate is crazy,â he says finally.
you shrug. âyou begged for my instagram.â
âi did not beg.â
you shoot him a look and he holds up his hands, laughing. "okay, but it worked."
you just take another sip of your drink and he watches you again.
"stop staring."
"i'm not staring," he says, voice soft.
you make a face and he grins, teeth flashing. âyouâre not even a little bit curious about me?â he asks after a second.
âno.â
âthatâs a lie.â
âitâs not.â
âit is,â he insists. âyou wouldnât be here if you werenât at least a little curious.â
you shrug. âi wanted matcha.â
âmatcha tastes like shit, i'm sorry,â he says after another small sip of his drink, and you facepalm.
he taps his fingers lightly against his cup. âwhat do you do when youâre not analyzing people and insulting them?â
âi donât insult people.â
he gives you a look and you sigh. âi read. i work. i go out with my friends.â
âthrilling.â
âi didnât ask for your review.â
âiâm just saying, thereâs room for improvement.â
you raise a brow. âand youâre the improvement.â
âobviously.â
you stare at him and shake your head, but thereâs the faintest hint of a smile at the corner of your mouth.
his grin softens slightly. âi like when you smile,â he says.
âi donât smile.â
âyou literally just did.â
âno i didnât.â
âyou did.â
âno proof,â you cut in, and he leans forward, laughing.
âi saw it.â
âthatâs not proof.â
âiâll get it on camera next time.â
âdonât.â
âtoo late. iâm already planning it.â
you scoff and gojo just smiles, watching you with a soft kind of intensity that makes your stomach churn.
you donât rush the drinks. in fact you stay sitting there a little longer than necessary, fingers tracing the condensation on your cup while gojo talks about some story. you only correct him twice, and he grins every time you do.
âso,â he says eventually, âi'm assuming you're always this mean on first dates.â
you donât even blink. âthis isnât a date.â
âright,â he says easily. âthis is a very structured, multi-location, several-hours-long hangout where i bought you a drink.â
âit's two locations.â
âmore than one location is multi-location.â
you give him a look, and he just smiles back, unbothered. thereâs a pause before you glance at your empty cup. ââŠwe should go.â
âyeah,â he says, standing immediately. âyeah, okay.â
gojo thinks he might slowly be losing his mind.
it's in a good way. definitely in a good way. he keeps catching whiffs of your perfume, or little hints of your smile that make him feel sort of dizzy.
and the way you're so casual with your answers, still kinda dismissive, a little bit rude? he loves it. he wants to ask you more, find out more about you, talk to you more.
he doesnât say that out loud, obviously.
he just opens the door for you again and follows you out like a normal person who is not, in fact, losing his mind over a girl who called him annoying ten minutes ago.
the drive to the gallery is quieter than before. definitely not a bad quiet, gojo thinks to himself. just different. he catches himself glancing over at you at red lights, then immediately looking back at the road, chest feeling tight.
you get to the gallery shortly after and gojo mentally preps himself before stepping inside :
don't ask dumb questions.
make sure to sound kind of smart.
just don't look like an idiot.
he pauses when you step inside one of the rooms. he hates places like this. it's too quiet and too still and the white walls make everything feel so boring.
he glances at you. your arms are crossed, eyes tracing over the painting you said was 'part of the renaissance movement' (whatever that means), and you're both standing in silence.
he lasts about eight seconds.
âiâm gonna be honest,â he says, leaning slightly toward you. âi donât get it.â
you sigh, but itâs lighter than before. âyou donât have to get it.â
âthen what do i do.â
âlook.â
âi am looking.â
âno,â you say, finally glancing at him. âyouâre seeing, not looking.â you turn back to the painting, and something in your expression shifts.
he forgets whatever he was about to say.
you lean in slightly, arms folding loosely, gaze tracing the piece again. âsee how the colors move,â you say, quieter now. âthe subtle brushstrokes.â
gojoâs eyes flick to the painting then back to you.
âit pulls your attention across,â you continue, pointing lightly. âitâs not random. thereâs intention.â
gojo is not listening to a single word about the painting.
heâs watching you, cataloguing everything.
the way your voice dips when youâre thinking. the way you pause before explaining something, and how you bite your bottom lip. the way your expression softens just a fraction when you find a painting you like.
he swallows, his cheeks definitely dusted a little pink.
you're beautiful.
âitâs about movement,â you continue. âsee what the artist did with how this section was painted?â
âyeah,â he says, nodding like he understands. âi see it.â
you glance at him.
he absolutely does not see it, and he panics slightly. ââŠthe colors,â he adds, gesturing vaguely. âtheyâreâuhâdoing things.â
your eyes narrow.
he commits, laughing awkwardly. âthe blue is veryâŠblue?â
thereâs a beat, and then you snort, your laugh echoing in the dead-quiet gallery.
the sound hits him straight in the chest. i did that. i made her laugh.
âthatâs your big takeaway,â you say, shaking your head.
âiâm easing into it,â he says quickly, recovering. âthere's lots to, erm...analyze.â
âright, of course.â you roll your eyes, but you're smiling. ânow, this next piece is one of my favourites...â
he listens to you as you happily ramble on about symbolism and whatever colour theory you had to talk about now, and gojo tries harder to listen. he asks a question (that doesn't sound too dumb) and you answer him without immediately shutting him down. when you correct him, you're laughing a little now, and gojo wants to laugh when you laugh, too. all the time.
it feels easy.
you stop in another room, empty except for the two of you. he follows you as you point to the next painting, telling him to 'watch the intent behind this' or 'look at this technique'.
he glances down. your hand is right there, relaxed and close.
his heart does something stupid and he hesitates because this is the part where he usually just goes for it. (but again, when's gojo ever gone to an art gallery with a girl?)
he doesn't want to mess it up with you, so after taking a short inhale, he asks, "can i...hold your hand?"
his voice comes out quieter than he expected and you just look at him. he doesn't joke or backtrack, he just stands there, waiting.
your expression shifts slightly, and you lift your hand, hold it out like it's nothing.
it is not nothing.
gojo reaches for it carefully. your hand is warm, soft, fits into his like it belongs there. it hits him all at once. he wants to grin, or say something stupid, and his heart feels light. he wants to jump of joy.
you turn back to the painting like nothing happened, still holding his hand, and his thumb brushes small circles over yours as you walk.
âthis oneâs cool,â you say, smiling as you approach another piece.
gojo nods. âyeah,â he murmurs.
heâs not looking at it, not really. heâs looking at you, and thinking, yeah. definitely a good way to lose my mind.
gojo doesnât let go of your hand until the very last second, right when you walk up to his car. even then it's slow, like he's testing if you'll pull away first. you don't, your hand just slipping out naturally as you approach the parking lot.
the drive back to the frat is shorter than he wants it to be. he pulls up, parking beside where you left your car earlier, and for a second neither of you move. the engine hums softly then he turns off the car, resting his hands on the wheel.
you reach for the flowers first, lifting them carefully from where you set them down earlier, adjusting them in your hands.
âi had a really nice time,â gojo says.
you glance at him. he leans back slightly in his seat, one hand still resting on the wheel, the other rubbing at the back of his neck.
âeven if,â he adds, a little sheepish, âthe gallery was boring as fuck.â
you stare at him for a second before smiling. ââŠme too,â you say quietly.
gojoâs grin breaks out immediately, bright and stupid and completely unfiltered, like you just handed him the best news of his life. he leans back in his seat slightly, exhaling. âokay,â he says, nodding once like heâs processing it. âokay, good.â
you glance at him. he looks happy, genuinely. it does something weird to your chest again.
âwe should do it again,â he says like itâs the most obvious thing in the world.
you donât even hesitate. âno.â
he snorts, shaking his head. âyouâre funny.â
âiâm serious.â
âyouâre not.â
âi am.â
he leans a little closer, resting his arm on the center console, looking at you like he already knows the answer. âyou will.â
you meet his gaze, unimpressed. âno.â
âyeah.â
âno.â
âyeah.â
you roll your eyes, pushing the door open. âyou're delusional.â you step out, closing the door behind you, flowers still in hand. heâs out of the car a second later, walking around to the sidewalk where you are.
he shoves his hands into his pockets, rocking back slightly on his heels. âbye, y/n.â
you turn back toward him. he's looking at you with that same soft, slightly dazed expression heâs had all afternoon.
you step closer and he stills, then you lift slightly onto your toes and press a soft, quick kiss to his cheek. it's light and barely-there. âbye, gojo.â you pull back before he can react, already turning, walking toward your car like nothing happened.
he just stands there, completely still, eyes wide, heart doing something violent and uncoordinated in his chest.
âŠdid she just...
he lifts a hand slowly, touching his cheek like he needs to confirm it happened.
youâre already unlocking your car, not even looking back. he watches you drive off.
he stands there like his brain short-circuited. ââŠholy shit,â he whispers, turning back to the house, legs a little wobbly, eyes a little dazed. definitely not normal.
toji looks up first from the couch, then geto and choso walk out of the kitchen.
âwell?â toji asks.
gojo doesnât answer right away. he just stands there, loopy smile etched on his face.
geto narrows his eyes slightly. ââŠyou look insane.â
âit was good,â gojo says finally, voice a little distant.
âjust good?â toji asks, suspicious.
gojo shakes his head slowly. âno. it wasââ he stops like he doesnât even have the words.
geto stands, walking a little closer, studying him. ââŠis thatââ
toji hops up from the couch. âno way.â
choso looks confused. âwhat?â
toji points at gojoâs face. âyouâve got something on your cheek.â
getoâs already grinning. âlipstick.â
toji bursts out laughing. âoh, youâre done,â he says, shaking his head. âyouâre actually finished.â
chosoâs eyes widen slightly. âsheâ?â
gojo smiles, completely, utterly gone. âshut up,â he mutters, but thereâs no heat behind it.
âyou have lipstick on your face,â toji laughs.
âshut up.â gojo walks past them, heading toward his room, you on his mind, already planning your next date.
toji calls after him, still grinning. âyouâre in love, man.â
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is it a man? a beast? no! it's the abominable gojo!
synopsis: for a cash-strapped starving scientist such as yourself, finding a yeti would've made the discovery of a lifetime. there's just one tiny problem - he found you first
pairing: yeti!Gojo x researcher!Reader
content: mdni, angst and fluff and eventual smut, cryptid!Gojo, this one is probs gonna get REAL insane, reader trying her best to tame this beast, he's man-like but i mean still-, forced cohabiting, is it kidnapping if he doesn't know what kidnapping is?, soft (and fuzzy!) Gojo, somehow we've landed on monsterfucking guys this is my formal apology, EXTREMELY protective gojo, hurt/comfort, more tags to be added!
observation logs
one | two | three | four
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the abominable snow monster
yeti!Gojo's notes
first thoughts | log 10.5
fanart for it here !!
asks ... #re: snowed in
pls lemme know in comments if you wanna be tagged<3
a/n: toij drabble bc my other one was rlly popular đ
domestic toji drabble (reader g/n refered to as mom)
--
Toji laid in bed beside you, baby Megumi only three weeks old curled up on his chest- looking like a fuzzy little bean on top of his father. His hand gently rubbing the baby's back, and the other supporting his bottom. Toji had already fed, and changed the greedy infant and now only waited for you to wake up.
His eyes looking over your graceful figure, covered by the blanket you both supposedly shared. Drool escaping your perfect lips, hair elegantly all over the place, he understood though.
You both were tired, even if Megumi was low maintenance, he was still a fussy baby who loved his mother far too much. Clinging to you, and being comforted by the soft beat of your heart.
That's why he took care of the kid first thing in the morning, Megumi was loafing on top of him. Small sounds escaping his small body as he tried to escape his swaddle, "what? go things to do today?" he whispered to Megumi kissing his small head "somethin' besides shittin' and eating your mom and I dry?"
Megumi let out a small grunt, attempting to roll off Toji, "the hell are you goin' you turd. hm?" he lifted Megumi to sit on his stomach, the boy slumping over like a loved stuffed animal. "not strong enough huh, you'll get there. You'll be strong just like me" he mumbled nuzzling the kids tufty hair, holding him close.
You'd been awake for bit, since he'd returned from feeding 'gumi. You just didn't want to ruin the moment, Toji was always complaining about the little fart: how he couldn't do anything, just a money vacuum, always wanting something and you, just anything.
Quiet was rare in the household, especially in the morning.
"hey, I see you got the little star" you say quietly moving to kiss Tojis cheek and caress Megumi, now realizing his favorite person was alive he squirmed and wiggled to get into your arms.
Now back to his grumpy self he grumbled beneath his breath, "I'm just here to keep him warm cause he clearly likes you more"
"I'm not the one calling him names" you reply moving into Toji's arms.
"what he likes it, isn't that right poopy-butt" he said to megumi who was clinging to you, but looked up at toji letting out a small gurgle and tried to move into his arms.
"guess, he really does like it" he uttered taking megumi into his arms again.
--
smt to hold u guys over bc im suffering until graduation
â§âË âŸâ Privacy? Tojiâs never heard of it.
You were careful when you first started dating Toji. You always wore your best underwear around him, always made sure you saw him on hair wash day 1 or 2, at most. You avoided staying overnight around his apartment when you were on your period and sprayed at least half of bottle of perfume on your clothes before you met with him.
However, it seemed that Toji could not care less. Youâd excuse yourself to the bathroom with a pair of synchronised footsteps behind you. Without a knock, heâd open the bathroom door and stand in there while you were peeing. Heâd unashamedly stare too, as if you were eating food and not taking a piss.
Or youâd drop something off at his apartment after an intense gym session, gym-wear sticking to your skin and cheeks still red. But then, heâd drag you in, push you down onto his bed and push his face in between your thighs. Youâd squeal, try and kick at him to move because you knew you hadnât had a shower yet.
âCome on, doll. Let me love my girlfriend.â Then heâd press his nose into your crotch and deeply inhale.
âToji!â You scream. âYou are such a freak!â
âOuch, ma. That hurts.â
âWell itâs true.â
You let him eat you out anyway. You canât say no to those devilish eyes and handsome smirk.
Sadly, you canât say no to anything that Toji wants. You let him steal your dirty underwear, you let him sit in the bathroom with you whilst your bent over on the toilet seat with period cramps.
And he loves it.
He fights back a grin whenever you let him join you in the shower (after insistent begging), knowing youâll let him wash your hair even if itâs greasy (because he begs you even more).
He gets a boner whenever you stretch your feet over his lap and silently command him to give you a foot massage, or when you let him eat you out on your period.
He may have been a bit weird; but it was clear he loved you through his freakish ways.
Heian!Sukuna loves you and heâs the last to let others dictate how he shows it. (fluff)
Half a year heâs been gone.
Dust has settled on the shelves, the big bed in the main bedroom empty and abandoned.
You eat in your room, sleep in your room, sit in your room and live and breathe in your room.
Outside, through the thin paper walls, you can hear the birds whistle, hear the wind sing as it rustles the leaves of your great maple tree. Not that it matters when heâs not here. Not that any of it matters.
The flowers have wilted and dried, no longer any water in the vase, your hair unkempt, your dresses wrinkled.
Youâve shooed all the staff away, linger in loneliness.
Tonight is one of the softer evenings. The servants have lit the lanterns and candles, soft light blurring your surroundings with dancing shadows.
You sit on the veranda and listen to the estate around you. The muffled talk of the guards and the servants, the breeze in the trees, the high-pitched screeches of the bats that flutter through the gardens.
Then, a shout.
If your ears could twitch, they would.
You know the sound of his name, know the syllables that fall from everyoneâs lips, like a wave, a chorus, a prayer â his name travels to you and youâre on your feet before your closest companions ever get to you.
Barefoot you run along the pathways, wooden planks and stone and grass, the fabric of your gown tangling in bushes and unattended flowers. Youâve neglected your garden, your green little paradise because it meant nothing when the man you love wasnât close.
Now he is, tho. Now he is just outside the castle walls, or already inside of them. Heâs there, travel-worn and weary, heâs there and youâll be whole again. Youâll be held in his strong arms, kissed by his lips, taste the life and the blood and the power on his tongue. Youâll listen to his strong heart that beats for and with you.
You trip when rounding a corner, almost fall and catch yourself with a little yelp before youâre back on the main road towards the stables, the front gate. Towards the long winding road that stretches into the distance and vanishes on the horizon. The same horizon he turned smaller and smaller and vanished all those nights ago.
Gathered servants and guards part for you and then, there he is - Sukuna, the two faced demon of Japan, the King of Curses, your Beloved.
He towers over his retinue, hair pale from the dirt of the road, a bandage on his left upper arm, eyes roaming until they find you. You.
Sukunaâs running towards you long before youâve managed to gather your robes. Heâs there to lift you in his arms before youâve managed to make any distance.
Like sweat he smells, like the road and the steel of his weapons, like blood and death and endless power.
You weight nothing in his arms as he spins you around, as his hands hold you beneath your armpits, ribs held together by nothing but him, his other hands on your waist. Even now, when the world is nothing but swirls of night sky and fire and him, he holds you close.
Your own arms are around his neck, so bulky and wide, sticky where his skin is exposed, you pull yourself closer to pepper him in kisses. Catch the corner of his mouth, his nose, feel breathless and light, giggling against his skin.
Whatever weighted you down is lifted with his touch, his presence.
You do not notice when he sets you down, when his chest is pressed against yours. On your tiptoes you have to stand, his hands holding your face, cradling you, gently angling you up and heâs the sun, heâs the light. Heâs bright and endless and yours and heâs right here, smiling down on you.
Heâs turned tan, dark lines of ink a bit less prominent where the sun has darkened his skin. His grin is as wide as always, his laughter full and honest, meant for you and only you.
Both of you have always been like this. Unapologetic and disgustingly in love.
Oshidori fĆ«fu is what you hear them call the two of you, close like two mandarin ducks, two love birds, always together. Youâve tried to make a home for the birds in your garden but the pond is too small and they always fly away.
Then again, heâs your own mandarin duck, colorful and vivid, unforgettable in every way.
To stifle the laughter that bubbles in your chest is a fruitless endeavor. His fingers tighten around you and you close your eyes, smell him, feel him â exist only with him.
Sweet nothings he tells you, calls you his, Beloved. Loud enough for everyone you hear. His laughter booms across the courtyard when he wipes your tears away. Happy tears, a grin so wide it burns in your cheeks.
You bask in his attention, his warmth and his love and when he carries you off into your untouched chambers, you know youâll hold him as close as you can, squeeze his body until he acts like heâs unable to breathe and you will laugh and he will laugh with you.
Whole, finally. Together, once again.
a/n: my girlie @beaniesayshi hit a milestone and I'm so proud and happy for her and just had to crank out this little piece as celebration. So proud of you, babe! <3
cult!leader suguru geto who always smells like sandalwood and expensive tea. whenever you're stressed, he just pulls you into his lap and lets you bury your face in his neck. he knows his scent calms you down instantly, and he'll stay like that for hours if you need him to.
cult!leader suguru geto who lets you play with his hair. despite how much he cares about his appearance and those monk robes, he will sit on the floor between your knees and let you braid his hair or put little clips in it while he goes over paperwork.
cult!leader suguru geto who cancels important meetings the second you say you're feeling lonely. his assistants will be panicking about a million- yen donation, and suguru will just smile calmly and tell them it can wait because his wife needs a nap and a movie marathon.
cult!leader suguru geto who is incredibly physically affectionate. he isn't loud about it in public, but he always has a hand on the small of your back or is brushing a thumb over your knuckles. he wants everyone in that compound to know exactly who you are to him without saying a word.
cult!leader suguru geto who keeps a photo of you tucked inside his sutra book. when he has to give those long, exhausting speeches to his followers, he takes a quick look at your face just to remind himself why he's doing all of this. you are his peace in a world he finds chaotic.
cult!leader suguru geto who insists on brushing your hair every night. it is a sacred ritual for him. he's so gentle, making sure there isn't a single tangle, and he usually ends the session by kissing the top of your head and whispering how lucky he is.
cult!leader suguru geto who over-prepares for your comfort. if you're going on a trip or even just to a different part of the temple, he makes sure there are blankets, your favorite snacks, and enough space for you to be relaxed. he treats you like a literal goddess.
cult!leader suguru geto who has a very soft, private laugh that only you get to hear. the world gets the polite, fake smile, but you get the genuine, chesty laugh that crinkles the corners of his eyes. he saves all his real emotions just for you.
cult!leader suguru geto who subtly threatens anyone who even mildly inconveniences you. he would never be cruel to you, but if a curse or a follower makes you upset? his expression goes cold and terrifying in a second. he is your ultimate protector, and he takes that job more seriously than his leadership.
cult!leader suguru geto who purposely leaves his outer robes draped over the bed or the sofa. he knows they are way too big for you, and seeing you swallowed up in the expensive fabric makes his heart melt. he'll walk into the room, see you in them, and just stand there admiring you for a solid minute before saying anything.
cult!leader suguru geto who makes sure you have the finest silks in the compound. he treats dressing you like an act of worship. if he sees a fabric that matches your eyes or looks soft against your skin, he buys the whole bolt of it immediately. he wants you to feel as royal as he thinks you are.
cult!leader suguru geto who loves it when you "interrupt" his meditation. his followers are terrified to knock on his door, but you can just barge in and sit in his lap. he'll let out a long sigh, wrap his arms around your waist, and tell you that you're a much better view than the wall he was staring at.
cult!leader suguru geto who is a huge fan of forehead and neck kisses. it's his way of saying "i've got you" without words. whether he's lingering at your temple to ground himself or burying his face in the crook of your neck before a long day of meetings, he just wants to feel your heartbeat. he loves the way you smell and the way you sigh when he presses his lips to your skin; it's the only thing that actually makes him feel relaxed.
cult!leader suguru geto who writes you poetry in the margins of his journals. while he's supposed to be planning his next move, he's actually scribbling lines about how the sunlight hits your hair in the morning. he's romantic and isn't afraid to show it.
cult!leader suguru geto who insists on feeding you the best parts of his meals. if there's a special dessert or a perfect piece of fruit brought to him as an offering, he doesn't even taste it before offering it to you first. he finds more joy in watching you eat than eating himself.
cult!leader suguru geto who loves to "tuck you in" even if he has to stay up late working. he will pause everything just to make sure you're warm, the pillows are right, and you have water by the bed. he'll whisper sweet things to you until you fall asleep, then go back to his desk feeling recharged.
cult!leader suguru geto who finds excuses to touch your hair when you wear his robes. he loves the contrast of your hair against the dark fabric. he'll stand behind you, gathering your hair to one side, and press kisses to the back of your neck while telling you that his clothes look significantly better on you than they ever do on him.
cult!leader suguru geto who is incredibly clingy at night and hates when you get up. if he feels you shift even an inch away from him, his arm immediately tightens around your waist. he'll hum a low, sleepy protest and pull you back against his chest, burying his face in your hair. even if you just need a glass of water, he'll try to negotiate with you to stay, promising he'll get it for you later as long as you don't leave the warmth of the blankets right now.
cult!leader suguru geto who insists on carrying you if the walk is "too long." even if it's just across the temple grounds, he'll look at your shoes, look at the distance, and then just scoop you up in his arms without a word. he loves the feeling of your weight against his chest, and he'll just hum a soft tune while his followers scramble to get out of his way.
cult!leader suguru geto who is the ultimate cuddler, depending on his mood. most nights, he's the big spoon, wrapping his entire body around yours like he's shielding you from the world. but when he's had a long, draining day of dealing with monkeys he wants to face you. he'll tuck his forehead against yours, tangle his legs with yours, and just breathe you in. he needs that eye contact and closeness to remind him that he's home.
cult!leader suguru geto who loves teasing the hell out of you just to see you react. he has such a dry, playful wit and he knows exactly which buttons to push to get you flustered. he'll whisper something cheeky in your ear during a serious ceremony or make a comment about how much you love wearing his robes just to see your cheeks turn red.
cult!leader suguru geto who always smiles mid- kiss. you'll be in the middle of a deep, quiet moment, and he'll just break into a soft, genuine grin against your lips because he's simply too happy to be with you to keep a straight face. it's his favorite way to show you that, in his arms, he isn't just as leader-he's just a man who is incredibly in love.
cult!leader suguru geto who forces his black card into your hand every single time you leave the room. he doesn't even ask if you need anything; he just presses the card into your palm and tells you that if the balance doesn't go down by the time you get back, he'll be "offended." he loves knowing you're out there treating yourself because he thinks you deserve every luxury on earth.
cult!leader suguru geto who spends his rare quiet nights carving hair combs or sewing silk pouches for you by hand. even though he could buy you a diamond-encrusted version, he finds it meditative to make things for you. he'll present a hand- carved sandalwood hairpin to you with such a shy, hopeful look, acting like it's just a "little thing" when it's actually a masterpiece.
cult!leader suguru geto who buys you and the twins matching jewelry sets just because. he'll come home with three velvet boxes-one for you and two for the twins-containing custom-made necklaces. he loves the visual of his "three favorite girls" all wearing pieces that mark them as his family.
cult!leader suguru geto who gets genuinely pained if you try to use your own money. if he hears a card swipe that isn't his, he'll give you this dramatic, wounded-puppy look and ask if his "provisions" aren't good enough for his queen. he loves the feeling of providing for you; it's a core part of his love language.
cult!leader suguru geto who is the first person to notice if mimiko or nanako are upset. he can sense their energy from across the temple. he'll immediately stop what he's doing, pull them aside, and hold them until they feel better. he's taught them that their emotions are valid and that they never have to be "tough" when they're home with him and you.
cult!leader suguru geto who loves when you take the lead on motherly things for the twins. seeing you brush nanako's hair or help mimiko pick out an outfit makes him feel like he finally has the family he always dreamed of. he'll just lean against the doorframe, watching the three of you with the softest, most lovestruck expression.
cult!leader suguru geto who gives you a report of his day every night while you're both in bed. he doesn't talk about the heavy cult business- instead, he tells you the funny things mimiko and nanako said or a beautiful bird he saw in the courtyard. he filters out all the darkness of the world before he speaks to you, wanting your ears to only hear peace.
cult!leader suguru geto who makes sure your favorite flowers are always in bloom in the private garden. he knows exactly when they are supposed to wilt, so he has his best sorcerers or gardeners ensure there is always a fresh, vibrant path for you to walk through. he tells you that the flowers are just trying their best to look half as beautiful as you do.
cult!leader suguru geto who never broke the habit of drinking peach soda to wash down the taste of curses. it started back in high school, when he and satoru would grab whatever was cold and cheap from the vending machines after missionsâpeach soda was the only thing strong enough to cut through that metallic, rotâlike aftertaste. he didnât even like soda then, and he definitely doesnât like it now, but the muscle memory stuck.
even now, years later, he keeps a stash of it specifically for after he has to swallow for his work. he is terrified of you ever catching even a hint of that lingering, sourâsweet curse taste on his breath. heâll drink an entire bottle and brush his teeth twice before he even thinks about kissing you, because he wants your only memory of his lips to be clean, sweet, and perfect.
cult!leader suguru geto who will spend all day complaining about monkeys, only to turn around and pay one a ridiculous amount of money to get you what you want. he'll give a whole speech about how their presence is a stain on the world and he can't wait to kill all of them, but if nanako and mimiko want a specific crepe from a stand, or if you mention you want a limited-edition perfume from a mall, he'll immediately hire a non-sorcerer to go wait in line for three hours. he has no shame about using them as his personal errand-runners if it means his wife and daughters stay happy and fed. he'll just scoff and say, "at least those filthy monkeys are somewhat useful for once," while he watches the three of you enjoy your treats with a soft, satisfied smile.
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When Marquis Gojo Satoru goes missing after the bloody fight, the entire empire is in uproar! Until his loyal soldiers accidentally discover him living in a small village working as a... noodle seller? And he has a wife?!
pairings: Gojo Satoru x Reader
content/warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, inspired by drama, Gojo yearns to have a family, domestic life he deserves, pregnancy, marriage
WC: 5.5k
a/n: loosely inspired by Chinese drama Pursuit of Jade éçïŒ
idk who the artist is, pls help!
Two men walked through plains and meadows under the scorching, merciless sun. Their full armour weighed heavily on tired shoulders, and horses were getting more tired each day. They barely had any water, and milky buns long gone stale, with their usual soft dough crumpling under their touch.
They've been looking for their general for six months already, with the hunt being fruitless from the very start. Marquis Gojo Satoru fell on the battlefield alone, with all his other soldiers getting bowled like wild deer. Since that cursed night â no one has seen him. The most powerful general in the entire empire, with the emperor himself paying in pure silver just to find his most precious warrior.
That's why Suguru â his strategist â and Nanami â most devoted general â decided to walk the vast plains of the empire, just to find their Marquis. He wasn't dead, surely, as not many things could hurt his almost divine body. As if created by the Jade Emperor himself.
Built like a boar, with the strength of a thousand men, Gojo Satoru was the strongest one in the whole empire. Surely he must've been kept hidden, with hundreds of men trying to conceal the Marquis from the world and use him as a future leverage.
Could someone from a traitorous clan kidnap him?
Maybe his wounds after the fight were truly too severe, and he just wasn't strong enough to break free?
Whatever the reason was, Suguru and Nanami were dead-set on finishing their mission.
After a half day of walking, they stepped down the mountain, following a gentle brook that let their horses drink to the brim. Both men cleaned themselves up a bit and ate last, stale buns, dreaming of having even a simple bowl of noodles.
Thus, imagine how joyous they were upon seeing a little village, hidden deep between the mountains with nothing but tall trees and a wide river spinning through it. If Suguru didn't lift his head up while drinking from the brook, surely he wouldn't notice it. Low, wooden roofs were almost fully obscured by lush forest, and nothing but a gentle, white smoke curled around some dirty chimneys.
Food!
Both men almost run that way, with stomachs squirming in hunger and sweat dripping down their backs. Nanami dreamed of sitting down with a drink and meat, while Suguru foolishly wished that the villagers would know something about their Marquis.
After all, the battle was not that far away from here, and there was a chance that someone might've seen a wounded soldier wandering around the meadows.
When their horses passed the small, wooden gate, the little child immediately ran up to them.
"Can I pet, can I pet?" his small hand reached out towards the raven horse, brushing its massive leg gently before Suguru could even nod.
He got off the mare, squatting down to be on the same level as a kid.
"Tell me, boy, do you have any nice restaurants here in the village?" he asked, and the child hummed.
"Of course we have! The best noodles in the whole region, pretty lady!" he chirped, oogling Suguru's long hair smooching his cheeks.
Nanami scoffed, while Suguru only smiled gently. "Well, could you maybe take us there? You see, these two soldiers are very, very hungry."
The boy didn't seem to care about Suguru's pressure on the soldiers and simply nodded. He left the horse and pointed a finger at the small, two-level house, with multiple people sitting outside on little stools and grey smoke twisting around its roof.
"Thank you, dearest," Suguru said warmly, placing a sliver coin in the boy's hand.
Well, it should help his family last for at least a month.
"Do you think someone may've seen him?" Nanami asked while tying the horses to the fence outside the small restaurant.
"I hope so. But firstly, let's eat. I'm ready to collapse any second," Suguru mumbled, passing the wide-open doors.
The inside was rather simple but homely, with multiple families chirping joyfully over their noodles. The delicious smell of spices immediately hit Suguru's stomach, and long-withheld hunger suddenly became even worse.
They sat at the small table near the open window, enjoying the serene view of the slowly running river, with a few children playing at its crystalline water. Their laughter filled the stuffy air, and the gentle wind brushed Suguru's tired cheeks, bringing him a slight comfort. Birds chirped sweetly, and passing girls giggled under their noses, seeing two handsome, strange soldiers sitting politely in the restaurant.
And while they were waiting, with minds enjoying the peacefulness of this place, someone's voice suddenly brought them back.
"What can I get for you, gentlemen?"
Suguru turned his head, ready to order a bowl of spicy noodles andâ
Oh.
Oh!
His knees went weak, and if not for the stool, he would surely fall miserably on the wooden floor. Blood immediately rushed to his head, fingers started to tremble, and if Nanami didn't grab his hand, it would surely curl around Gojo Satoru's neck.
Because why, dear heavens, the Marquis himself was standing before him perfectly fit and cheeky, with healthy rosiness blooming on his face and muscular body dressed in simple, commoner robes?
"M-Marâ" he stood up, but Satoru quickly pushed him back down.
The smile wasn't coming off his face, but his voice rolled out low and irritated. "Why are you here?"
"Why are we here?" Suguru almost burst. "Marquis, what do you mean by why are we here?!"
He couldn't quite believe it â the Marquis, man announced by the ministers themselves as surely dead, was, in fact, looking as if resurrected. His eyes, usually hued in deep ocean colour, looked rather... alive. Light and shiny, resembling the cyan paint spread over the canvas, soft and wet, glimmering under the warm beams of sunshine. His always so pale skin brimmed with healthy rosiness, usually suitable for most dearest birdies. Wet forehead was tied with milky cloth, keeping the snowy hair away from the brazen eyes.
Creamy robes hugged him loosely, with a few chilli oil stains bussing its grainy material.
He looked so... not noble. Not Marquis-like.
But much happier.
"Marquis, if we could talkâ" Nanami started, but before he managed to finish, another voice chipped in.
Loud and angry, with a tired sigh and in the company of a fat finger knocking on the wooden table. "Hey, pretty boy! I ordered seconds a while ago!"
Suguru straightened up, jaw visibly tensed. He was ready to pull out his long sword and cut the man on the spot. "How dare you to talk to Maâ"
But before it, Satoru quickly smacked the back of his head.
"Sure thing, just give me a minute," he chirped politely, and Suguru almost fainted.
Never in the thirty years of his life has he ever heard the Marquis being polite to... anyone. Truly.
And so obedient at that, with a gentle smile curving his lips and a little nod of his head. The man, however, didn't seem to be satisfied, rambling under his breath and throwing a few curses every few seconds.
Six months ago, Suguru would see his head rolling on the wooden floor, with a Marquis slashing it off in a single, clean cut.
But now? Now his massive hand was keeping Suguru in place, not allowing him to stir up any trouble.
"You both eat first. I'm sure you must be hungry," he said warmly, patting the shoulders of his most reliable commanders. "We'll discuss it later."
"Marquis, butâ" and, once again, before Nanami could finish, the rude customer decided to strike again.
"Pretty boy, I don't see you walking back to the kitchen for my seconds!"
Satoru sighed. His palms squeezed their shoulders, long fingers digging deep into the armour. Suguru, for a fleet moment, saw this familiar frown and blue veins popping on the Marquis's forehead, as if ready to burst with a merciless fury.
He's going to strike, Suguru thought. He won't let that bastard trash his good name.
Satoru rolled up the wide sleeves of his creamy robes, tying them with a thin rope around the elbows. Bulging muscles of his forearms glistened in sweat, with the sun cruelly smooching his pale skin.
And when he thought that Marquis, finally, finally, will deal with a man, another voice filled the heavy restaurant's air.
"Hey! Stop being rude to my husband unless you want to deal with me!"
It drove Suguru into the wooden stool, with its honeyed sweetness marked by an authoritative tone. Not many people were able to put someone into their place solely with a voice, but a fragile woman who came out from the kitchen, with a heavy chopper in her hand â could.
Husband?
Suguru's head started to spin. He looked up, seeing Marquis's lips curving in a gentle smile. Eyes cheeky, like two pale moons, while glancing back at the woman storming through the small restaurant.
"Think you can bully my husband while I'm here?"
Man's cheeks washed in embarrassment before he coughed. "My apologies, miss. If I knew he was your husbandâ"
"Even if he wasn't, you shouldn't be rude! He's too polite and won't harm a soul, but me?" she took a step, but Satoru quickly grabbed her. "Try me!"
She surrounded herself with an imposing aura, although standing next to Satoru, her head barely brushed his chest. Hair curled around the hearty face, with a light robe and dirty aproan hugging warmly plush hips.
"What a menace," she scoffed loudly, cleaning the chopper with a cloth, before glancing up at the Marquis. "And you should get more assertive. Must you always be so obedient?"
Obedient?
"Stop acting like a pushover, what if someone attacks you, hm? We have lots of bandits these days, and I won't always be there to protect you."
Pushover?
Protect Marquis?
Suguru sighed, grabbing his head. It pulsed with a malicious headache, and the more you talked, the more he felt like fainting.
"My dearest," Satoru smiled, looking down at your fuming cheeks. "Have I ever told you how beautiful you look with this little crease on your forehead?" he lifted up a thumb, placing it right between your eyebrows.
He started massaging it in gentle circles, rolling a sweet giggle out of your lips and finally getting rid of the frown.
"There she is," he whispered, cupping your cheeks stained in reddish oil. "My beautiful, ferocious wife. You need to stop threatening everyone with a chopper. What if one day you come upon imperial soldiers?"
You tsked, nuzzling into his warm hands. "I'll chop them too, if they try to bully you."
Suguru just couldn't listen to it anymore. Not only the intimate tension between Marquis and... you... was unbearable, but he also simply couldn't comprehend the sudden change that bloomed inside the most ruthless, powerful general of the empire.
He coughed quietly, finally getting your attention.
"Oh," rolled politely, before you quickly hid the chopper behind. "I'm sorry, gentlemen, too many people like to bully my husband and, well, you know how it is..." your hand unconsciously waved with a chopper again, and Suguru barely dodged its sharp steel. "Sometimes the wife needs to step in. You see, my husband is a scholar, so he's, hm, the more compliant one in this marriage."
Nanami laughed, but Suguru quickly threw him a cold stare.
He brought back a polite smile to his face, still slowly massaging the buzzing temple. "Miss, my friend and I have travelled a long way to meet with Marâ your husband. I hope you don't mind, we'll take him away just for a moment."
Your eyes bulged in surprise, looking up at Satoru's warm gaze.
"I didn't know Satoru had... friends," you giggled, hearing a soft scoff coming from your husband. "Of course you can, but eat first, please. You sure must be tired. If you wish, you can stay a few nights in our house too. Right, darling?"
Satoru grimaced when you looked back at Suguru, and his eyes narrowed. "Sure, baby. If that's what you want. But aren't you rather busy, my dear friends?"
It sounded like he was giving Suguru a choice, but the coldness of his gaze and slowly shaking head were enough to convey that both of them were forbidden from agreeing with his wife's idea.
Suguru, however, was furious as it was, and if staying a day or two meant taking Marquis down to size â he would be more than happy to do it.
Before Nanami murmured that they are, in fact, rather busy, the strategist quickly chirped in.
"My precious friend, I would be more than happy to stay under your roof," he said, standing up and bending down politely your way. "Miss, we're grateful for your priceless hospitality."
You giggled, waving gently with a chopper. "There's no need for courtesy. Stay as long as you want," your eyes moved back to Satoru, his arm curling around your waist. "Darling, just remember to pick up the vegetables from Fang's restaurant. Oh, and Miss Hua needs to write a letter to the magistrate, help her with that too, hm?"
You chirped while Satoru was looking down at your rosy face with a bizarre caress behind his serene eyes. As if gazing on the most precious, loveliest little nymph. In fact, he looked as though he wasn't listening at all, with fingers climbing up to your plush cheek, and a thumb brushing over the red, oil stain.
"Right, and come back before supper. You know that at that time I usuallyâ"
"I know, the little brat makes her mommy nauseous," he smiled softly, and Suguru suddenly lost his appetite.
Wait a moment.
"Little brat?" Nanami chipped in first, with brows almost brushing his hairline. "Marâ Satoru, do you mean that your wife is..."
You looked at them, then at Satoru, then back at them, with a little tsk and hand patting his shoulder. "Truly! You didn't even tell them that you're going to be a father? What a good friend you are."
There was a second of silence, with Satoru trying to coo you sweetly and Nanami standing there like a log. With a slightly hazy gaze and mind trying to comprehend how a Marquis â the strongest man in the whole empire â got himself entangled not solely in a marriage with a commoner, but also in parenthood. His bloodline was precious, and his family would surely not accept the child whose mother was a simple noodle shop owner.
But then the three of them heard a loud thud, and a dark shadow of a man slowly hit the wooden floor.
Suguru, finally, fainted.
â â â
He woke up a mere hour later, with a wet compress on his forehead and skull buzzing from the heat. The air felt sticky, like honey, sliding down his coarse throat and cumulating somewhere deep in chest. His head felt heavy, and warm beams of sun slipped through an open window, brushing his slightly wet forehead.
He noticed that heavy armour was removed from his body and replaced with thin, navy robes, with wide sleeves and a narrow, open collar.
The smell of boiled meat went straight to his stomach, although he wasn't in a restaurant anymore.
No, this room was neat and brimming with warmth, although rather small. The soft bed dipped under his weight as he slowly stood up. The wooden floor was cold against his feet, and he noticed a small table right in front of him, with a bowl of cold noodles and a cup. His knees hit the floor, and when eyes looked inside, he noticed a weird, lush mixture of herbs â probably something to help with overheating.
He inhaled noodles in a few seconds, with salty soy sauce dripping gently down his throat and into stomach, finally filling it with a delicious, homemade meal.
Suguru felt like crying, tasting something carried as if straight from the heavens. Something worthy of an emperor himself, with a perfect seasoning and spongy texture bouncing under his teeth.
The herbal mixture followed next, and he saw a small milky candy wrapped in paper, right next to the cup. When the bitterness of a drink struck his mind, he immediately took the candy and chewed on its creamy sweetness.
Although the meal made him a bit lazy and he wanted nothing more than to return to bed and sleep like a baby â the case of Marquis still hasn't been closed.
So he stood up, dusting off his knees and quietly went outside, covering eyes from the sun. It seemed that the restaurant was right below, with a few customers pottering around and your sweet laughter once again filling his mind. Going down the wooden stairs, he noticed your small figure through the window â with half-pinned-up hair brushing your cheeks and a warm smile, when another customer hummed deliciously over your noodles.
Your eyes met his lavender gaze, and you gasped, quickly going outside to meet his pale face. "Are you alrightâ"
"Suguru."
"Right," your hand landed on his cheeks, squeezing it softly as if kneading a bun. "You look much better now. The travel must've been tiring."
You took him by surprise, but something warm spread in his chest, feeling your gentle caress and thumb brushing over the rosy skin. Not many people treated him kindly, with care, and he tried to suppress an urge to nuzzle into your hand.
"If you're looking for Satoru, he went with your friend that way," you pointed a finger towards the small hut on the other side of the river. "This village is not big, so surely you'll find him somewhere."
Suguru nodded, still tracing the softness of your hearty face, with the kindest eyes he had ever seen. Truly, no noblewoman could be compared to the loveliness you carried like a second skin.
He strolled around the sandy paths, kicking the little stones that rolled under his feet. Curious villagers oogled him shyly, and each time he nodded politely, sending humble smiles and greeting a few children on the way. They followed him around the village, with little heads sweating under the sun and chubby hands reaching out for long, raven hair brushing his hips.
The smell of jasmine flowers filled the air when he crossed the small bridge, and a few petals slipped away from the fragile branches. A young girl laughed cheerfully in the house next door, and two old men sat calmly near the river's bank, trying to catch the splashing fish.
The village truly was... calm. Serene, almost idyllic, as if painted by the gods themselves, with the peaceful faces of the villagers and their cooing voices greeting Suguru on every corner.
He finally noticed a flash of snowy hair and quickly moved its way.
Satoru sat in the garden with a young woman and a little boy snuggling on her lap, while Nanami... dearest. Nanami was fixing the roof.
Never in his life would he have thought of seeing the first army general nailing the wooden planks with such a focus.
"I also want at least two tales of silver," the woman sighed, and Satoru politely wrote down her request. "But one is also enough. If that bastard decided to leave me, then let him pay."
"Two tales may be too much, but I'll try to bargain for you. Let's see," Satoru muttered, placing neat characters one under another. Little brush scrubbed slowly against the delicate surface, and only Suguru knew how skilled a calligrapher the Marquis was.
Truly taught by the best masters in the whole empire!
But the woman couldn't care less, for she never learnt how to read, and small characters reminded her of nothing but cute little bushes. Bending and curving under Satoru's steady hand, before he finished the letter and left it to dry under the sun.
His light eyes noticed Suguru's figure, and their cheerfulness was immediately replaced by a stroke of irritation.
What a bastard!
"Thank you, Satoru, I truly don't know how to repay you," the woman said shyly, gripping the letter in her hands.
The boy wriggled on her thighs, tugging on his mother's loose hair. Satoru lifted up a hand and pinched his chubby cheek, rolling a little giggle out of his lips.
"No worries, it's nothing. Just come to me when they reply, and I'll read it for you."
Nanami finished his little job too, and all three of them strolled outside through the wooden gate. Suguru didn't say anything for a while, taking in the rosy cheeks of his Marquis and oogling with curiosity all his exchanges with the villagers. They strolled around, picking up side jobs Satoru supposedly did every day â placing an order for vegetables and getting freshly delivered ones, checking the assortment for a little pharmacy, or giving short reading lessons to the local children.
People greeted him with this kind glimmer in their eyes, and kids hugged his legs, placing little stones, flowers and candies in his hands. He thanked them each time, ruffing silky hair, pinching their chubby faces and hiding every little, dirty stone in the sleeves of his robes.
On their way back to Satoru's house, Suguru finally managed to ask.
"Marquis, are we going to discuss it or just ignore the fact that you faked your death for six months?"
Satoru slowed his pace before finally stopping. Three men stood near the bridge, with light petals of the jasmine tree falling down on Satoru's milky hair. With no villagers around, he finally sighed.
"I didn't fake my death," he murmured, sitting near the riverbank.
The sun was slowly setting over the tall mountains surrounding the village, with tender hues of purple and pink and orange brushing the evening sky. Birds were slowly preparing for sleep, and villagers coming back from work in the fields. Big ox strolled behind them, tugging a little cart loaded with fresh fruits.
Satoru's eyes glanced up, reflecting the last rays of tangerine beams.
"After that battle, I fell into the river. The water must have thrown my body on the bank, because she saved me and took me back to her house. When I woke up, she was already there â tending my wounds and trying to stuff me full with noodles," he laughed warmly, as if remembering the first days spent in your presence. "I really wanted to heal up a bit and go back, but..."
Nanami and Suguru sat next to him, looking up at the fragrant jasmine branches hanging over the river.
"But I couldn't. You both know I never wanted to marry and have a family, but back there, after hearing her laugh the first time, something panged in my chest."
"Maybe your wound has opened," Nanami mumbled, and Suguru pinched his arm.
Satoru laughed, eyes still tracing the changing sky. "After meeting her, I finally understood what it truly means to be happy. To seek the next day and live in peacefulness, with nothing but her touch waking me every single morning."
Suguru hummed, remembering how warm you felt when your hand pinched his cheek. So kind and lovely, as if you honestly cared about this stranger you've met just an hour ago.
"She was constantly worried about people gossiping about her marriage, so I decided to use this chance and marry her. She wanted a husband, and I wished for nothing but to stay with her as long as I could," he continued, taking a white jasmine petal off his head. "But she was constantly afraid I would leave her one day, so to prove my devotion..."
Oh dearest god.
Suguru almost fainted again. "You decided to trap her with a baby? Are you crazy?"
He was crazy. So, so miserably crazy, and Suguru could see it in his eyes. In his hands, grabbing your waist in an almost possessive manner, and his always oh so gentle gaze, as if nothing else but his dear wife mattered in this world.
"I didn't trap her... well. At least she doesn't feel that way," he coughed, smiling like a fool. "She always wanted to have a family, so I decided to give it to her. What's wrong with it?"
"Marquis, are you hearing yourself?" Suguru almost hissed. "Just a year ago, you declined the most beautiful women offered to you by an emperor himself. And now you're telling me you decided to marry a simple commoner after knowing her for a month?"
"Well, he never offered me her," Satoru giggled. "And it was a week. She asked me to marry her after a week."
"She asked you?"
"Yes."
"And you agreed? Just like that?"
"Of course, it was love at first sight."
Suguru looked at Nanami, as if trying to make sure he wasn't the crazy one here. That Marquis truly went mad, and he lost all his senses.
Maybe while falling down, he hit his head? Maybe you bewitched him and forced a marriage?
But no one in this world could possibly force a tyrannical Marquis to do anything. Well, at least that's what Suguru have thought.
"Marquis, does it mean that... she doesn't know who you are?" Nanami asked, and everyone suddenly held their breath.
Including Satoru, who scratched his head sheepishly.
Oh.
Oh!
"She doesn't. You didn't tell her?!" Suguru once again almost shouted, and Satoru quickly shushed him.
"How could I? She thinks I'm a simple scholar who can do nothing but sweet-talk and read," he brushed another jasmine petal, and Suguru noticed a bit of worry behind his ocean eyes. "If she knew my real rank... There's a chance she would leave me. She's alone in this world â no parents, no family. If revealing my situation would mean losing her, I'd rather live as a commoner."
Suguru couldn't simply comprehend the weight of his words. For living as a commoner was everything people of their sort feared. To lose a status that could save your head in turmoil times such as this one was almost like a death sentence.
And Marquis was ready to do it solely for a fleeting tenderness.
"Does it mean you're not planning to go back?" Nanami asked quietly. "Do you want to stay announced as dead?"
Satoru was silent for a few minutes, with rays of sunshine slowly leaving his face. The moon lurked shyly from between jasmine branches, reflecting his wandering gaze. Suguru has never seen Marquis so quiet, so calm. As if his soul truly healed up from all the bestiality he needed to suffer just to float above anyone else.
The cold, sharp Marquis was no longer here, replaced by a man who tasted love for the first time. He was like a child learning how to walk, but at the same time, constantly looking over his shoulder to make sure his mother was watching over him.
And for Satoru â it was you.
You showed him the kindness of this world, and life deprived of the wrath he has felt for such a long time.
Marquis didn't say anything, but stood up instead and laughed under his breath. "It's almost supper time, let's go back. My wife always gets nauseous around this time, so I'll be the one cooking."
Suguru and Nanami simply nodded, following the Marquis back to the warm house.
They found you in a kitchen, humming softly and cutting the vegetables. The restaurant was already closed, and nothing but a soft beam of candles and a little buzz of crickets filled the small room.
Suguru has only now noticed your little bump, and he smiled when Satoru hugged you from behind.
"Sorry we took so long," he murmured, placing a wet kiss on your cheek. "There was simply too much to talk about."
You hummed, nodding head softly, till a few strands slipped away from your pinup. "It's okay, Satoru. Spend as much time as you need," you said, before looking up towards two men standing in the doors. "The room for you is ready. The supper will be, as soon as Satoru starts cutting the meat."
Marquis laughed, taking a heavy chopper and a fat piece of flesh. Suguru has never seen him in the kitchen, so he looked with pure curiosity at the way the iron blade slashed the tender meat.
What a bizzare sight, truly!
The supper wasn't anything special, but sitting together, talking and drinking â well, aside from you, of course â was the first time Suguru saw Marquis so relaxed.
Cheerful, free, with his head lying softly on your thighs and smooth locks caressed by your fingers. He was getting drunk faster than usual, babbling carelessly under his breath and peppering your little swell with kisses, till you flushed like the sweetest cherry and pushed him away. He joked and laughed, reminiscent of the days spent in royal academia with Suguru and Nanami (apparently, all of them met there, absolutely not on the battlefield) and delighted himself in stories about your first meeting.
About the moment he opened his eyes and saw an angel itself, to which you flushed feverishly and mumbled oh stop. Drunk Satoru was like a teenage boy boasting about his first love, and Suguru couldn't help but feel warmth spreading all over his chest every time Marquis peeked up at your lovely face.
When the night came, and it was time to part your ways, Suguru...
Dear heavens.
Suguru wished for nothing more than to be anywhere but right next to your room. For he heard everything.
Every sloppy kiss, every giggle, every shuddered breath of yours and silent Satoru, we can't, they're going to hear us. But Marquis, who was nothing if not madly in love, promised that don't worry baby, they won't, it will be fine, just let me taste you.
Fortunately, it seemed that you slapped his nosy hands away, because for the rest of the night, Marquis stayed silent.
Suguru and Nanami decided to stay for a few more nights, enjoying the idyllic charm of the village. Nanami would help in fixing the houses after the recent flood, and Suguru devoted his time to helping Satoru teach local kids. Marquis was the only person in the whole village who could read and write, thus local folks gladly attended his short, daily classes.
When Suguru came, the kids took a deep breath as if charmed by the gentleness and vigilance of his face. Satoru liked to fool around with little brats, but Suguru immediately put them in place, imposing a harsh, hour-long lesson as worthy of the most prominent strategist in the whole empire.
They sat with focused foreheads and beams of sweat glistening on their temples, while chubby fingers tried to draw clean, straight strokes.
Later that evening, Satoru told him that children liked the new pretty lady teacher, and you burst out in the most melodic laughter he's ever heard.
During the days, they fooled around, helped at the restaurant and did odd jobs for villagers, but the nights...
The nights were always reserved for you and Satoru.
And Suguru never dared to impose this gentle time between the two spouses, closing himself and Nanami off in the bedroom.
But he heard every little word rolled intimately between the two tender souls.
He heard the soft creak of the mattress as Satoru shifted closer to you, as if even sleep demanded less distance between your bodies.
He heard your quiet laughter, muffled into pillows, as though you didn't wish to disturb your guests.
He heard of your simple dreams and plans and all the worries you seemed to always have at the back of your mind.
He heard your quiet I love you and his trust me I love you more, followed by a silent kiss.
He heard the gentle splash of water shifting in the tub, followed by your quiet hum, almost absent-minded, while Satoru moved around you with careful hands.
He heard the faint press of lips against your temple.
The whispered goodnights that always sounded like promises.
And sometimes, he heard nothing at all.
Just silence.
But he knew that even during the most hushed nights, Satoru was always keeping you close â to his heart and soul and eyes. For he has never seen anything more precious than the peacefulness haunting his wife's forehead. And if a little, worried crease would appear between your brows, his thumb would gently massage it away. Lips would kiss it off, and you would snuggle up even closer, as if your body unconsciously yearned for your husband's touch.
There was a special kind of intimacy between the two lovers, whose odd fates and minds mixed in one lifeline. A bond most could be jealous of â in the way Satoru seemed to have you at his fingertips and you somehow always curled around them, floating near like a little goddess.
If Satoru was a believer, he would pray to nothing but the giggling eyes of his wife.
A few days later, when they were getting ready for the road, Suguru would look back at the young couple with a swelling heart.
For Marquis, who suffered enough in his short life, deserved nothing more than to gleam under the warm sun like a fair child, with his bright laughter forever carried through the mountains and meadows of the great empire.
Synopsis: abandoned at the foot of a mountain in hopes of winning the favour of the Curse King, you have to navigate life as his bride, constantly fearing death, torture, and being eaten outâ up. being eaten up. definitely up.
right?
Warnings: porn with plot, dark romance, forced marriage, true form!sukuna - 2 peepees!, cunnilingus (he's a certified munch), use of curse mouth, blood play, masochist!sukuna, pussyjob, thigh job, death/violence/body parts, primal play, dubcon, double penetration, upside down 69, hair pulling, brief spanking, pussy slapping, biting, outdoor sex, bondage, shadow tentacles?, period sex, multiple orgasms, honestly not as dark as it sounds â this is quite romantic I promise, angst, fluff (soft!kuna), not quite curse au in the canon sense, f!reader, not proofread
Word Count: 16.9k
A forced marriage with Sukuna, the king of curses, sounds like hell.
And it is.Â
The village chief wanted to receive the newly arrived Curse Kingâs mercy and be spared from his tyranny. That apparently meant offering you, his only daughter, up for marriage. You were dropped off at the foot of the mountain, bound and gagged, unable to scream for help, not that any would arrive.
Not even your best friend, Suguru, had met your eyes.Â
Everyone had abandoned you.
A servant, dignified and aloof, came. They, with their white hair stained with crimson, took one look at you before making a silent decision.Â
Carried by goblin-looking creatures inside the mountain, which parted as though unhinging its jaw, you could do nothing but accept that you were going to be eaten up by the very monsters that children were warned about.
Navigating the carved out hallways of the mountain, they threw you in the throne room. Jagged stone walls surrounded you. Glowing red rocks were embedded in the rocks and lit torches illuminated the grand space. You were laying on the rolled out red carpet, staring up at a giant of a being.Â
There he was.
Sukuna Ryomen.
He was resting his head on one of his four arms, legs crossed, with all four eyes gazing down at you. He looked bored.Â
âWhat is this?â he drawled.
The same servant you first met stepped up, head bowed humbly. They said, âEntertainment, my Lord.â
âEntertainment?â the king repeated, tasting the word. âNot a snack? Interesting. How, pray tell, will this woman entertain me, if not with the taste of her flesh, Uraume?â
It was an absurd situation â they were discussing you as if you werenât there, as if you didnât have ears, as if you were a pet the servant had picked up as a gift. Although, it was at least a small blessing that you hadnât been killed on the spot, you supposed. The thought, however, didnât permit much relief when unimaginable torture could have awaited you.
âUraumeâ answered, âThe humans intended for her to be your wife, my Lord. Perhaps you could humour them with brief belief that they have been spared from their inevitable fate.â
At that, Sukuna hummed.
His eyes met your own then. They inspected you through your very soul. You felt their branding touch rifling through your essence. Something passed in them, something to which you could not put words.Â
Finally, he waved a lazy hand, and said, âVery well.â
The servants rushed to take you away, afraid to waste a single second.Â
Youâve been living in a room somewhere in the heart of the mountain since.Â
Itâs been about a week.Â
Meals on a tray are served to you three times a day. Porridge, fruits, bread, the sorts. You do your best not to eat much; they might have poisoned it.Â
Every day, every hour, is spent anticipating the wooden doors being kicked down, waiting for the Curse King to forgo delaying your fate and slicing your head off your shoulders with one, clean cut. So far, nothing yet.Â
In fact, you have not seen another soul since.Â
The first night, you couldnât sleep, afraid that he would take the villagers up on the offer to make you his real bride, by plunging his cock into you and stealing your maidenhead. It didnât, and hasnât, happened. But âyetâ looms over you perpetually.Â
Your one consolation is that sleep comes to you easily now.
Itâs all you can do â the room is barren of books, of people, of art. Only a bed, a table, and a chamber pot with a bucket of water decorate it. There are no windows with which you can view the outside world, can tell what time of day it is, can escape through, or jump off. Only your bodyâs natural instincts inform you when morning and time to slumber has arrived.Â
ThoughâŠ
With the days blurring, and perpetual and dim light of the glowing rocks remaining unchanged, itâs beginning to grow more and more difficult to tell left from right.Â
The doors are unlocked.Â
That was the first thing you tested when you were placed here.Â
Of course youâve considered walking out of the room, if only to have a change of scenery. Youâve also considered escaping. But your thoughts would always end up at âescaping to where?â
Youâve been abandoned by your village, by your family. They would not accept you. They would see your return as a sign that the Curse King had rejected their sacrifice and would be coming to collect the debt. In other words, youâd be seen as a bad omen.Â
It was your destiny to die, whether by the hands of your family or by the hands of the beast they were afraid of.
So if death is a certainty, why would you fear it?
Thatâs the final thought that pushes you out of bed and to the door. Your hand hesitated for a second. Then it was sure. You opened it, body tense.Â
No oneâs outside. No guard, no goblins, no king.
You pad out, feet bare and wearing only a nightgown. How deep inside the mountain are you, you wonder. Thereâs a draught blowing past, but no sound of the forest to fill the space. No voices. No footsteps. No life.
âWhere is everyone?â you mutter, padding forward.
Who can say how long you wander through the tunnels?Â
It feels like itâs been hours, though with the way time seems to pass differently, it could also have only been mere minutes.Â
Eventually, you spot light coming from a hollow in the walls. Carefully and with bated breath, you peer inside.
Steam wafts over your face.
Itâs warm â startlingly so against the chill that seems to cling to every corridor of the mountain. You hesitate again, also only a moment before stepping inside.Â
The ceiling arches high above, rough stone glistening with condensation, droplets forming and falling in slow, steady rhythms that echo softly in the space. The air is thick, humid, curling around your skin. It tickles.
At the centre of the chamber lies a pool.
Itâs set into a wide, uneven basin in the ground. The water glows faintly from beneath, lit by the same red-veined stones embedded along the walls, but here their light is softened, diffused through the steam until it casts everything in a hazy, molten glow.
The surface of the water ripples lazily, disturbed by unseen currents, by the quiet bubbling from somewhere deep below. Heat rises from it in waves, beckoning, almost inviting.
Who knew something like this existed inside a mountain?
Carefully, you approach the edge of the pool, crouching slightly as you extend a hand. Your fingers hover for a second before dipping into the water.
Hot.
But not scalding.
âA bath,â you mumble, smiling.
Here, of all places.
The servants had given you a bed to sleep on, a table to eat at, and a pot to do your business in that seemed to be cleaned out magically without you ever seeing anyone. What they hadnât granted, however, is the luxury of a bath. Only a bucket to and a rag to clean yourself with.Â
You glance back toward the tunnel, as if half-expecting someone, something, to be watching. But thereâs nothing and no one. Only the distant drip of water and the low hum of the mountain breathing around you.
Your reflection stares back at you from the shifting surface, blurred by steam and movement. The quiet stretches.
If youâll be killed for stepping outside your room, at least youâll die clean and fresh.Â
Shrugging off your nightgown, you dip your toe in the water, then your leg and the other, and soon youâre fully emerged.Â
âOh, thatâs wonderful,â you moan, letting the water soothe the aches in your bones. You sink deeper. The heat swallows you whole, up to your shoulders, then your chin. Your eyes flutter shut as you tilt your head back, strands of your hair clinging damply to your skin.
For a moment, just a moment, you forget. Forget the mountain, the monsters, the fate waiting patiently for you somewhere in its depths. The tension bleeds out of your limbs, your breathing slowing, evening out as the warmth seeps into you.
You drift, arms floating lazily at your sides.
A soft sigh escapes you. This is just like swimming in the lake near the village, except itâs warm and lovely and soothing.Â
ItâsâŠpeaceful.
Too peaceful.
Your eyes open.
Something feelsâŠoff suddenly. The water, once gently lapping, stills in a way that isnât natural. The faint bubbling from below seems to deepen, shift. Like something moving far beneath the surface.
Your body goes rigid.
Slowly, you glance down. The water is dark there. Deeper than it should be. The glow from the stones doesnât quite reach the bottom â it falls away into shadow, into something that looks less like a pool and more like a pit.
A pit that could swallow you whole.
Your breath catches.Â
ââŠHello?â you call softly, though you donât know why.
The surface trembles.
Something moves.
Your heart lurches into your throat. Instinct kicks in before thought does. You turn sharply, water sloshing as you begin to move, arms cutting through the surface, making for the edge.
Too slow.
Something clasps your ankle.
A gasp tears right through you, kicking hard, panic surging white-hot through your veins. âNo!â
It coils.
Grabs.
Your leg is yanked downward with terrifying force.
The world flips. Water crashes over your head as youâre dragged under, your scream swallowed instantly. You thrash, clawing at nothing, lungs burning whilst bubbles tear from your mouth. Your hands grasp blindly, trying to find purchase, to find anything.
A shape.
A body.
You strike it. Push against it. Kick, struggle, fight with everything in you, nails scraping against something solid, unyielding.Â
Then it lets go.
You donât wait.
You surge upward, breaking through the surface with a ragged gasp, coughing, choking on water as you scramble for the edge. Your hands slap against the stone, slipping once before catching, dragging yourself up just enough to cling to it. Your whole body trembles violently.
Air. You need air.Â
You suck it in greedily, chest heaving, water dripping from your lashes as your eyes dart wildly across the pool. âW-whatâŠâ you choke out, voice shaking.Â
A sound answers you. A low, amused exhale.
Your blood runs cold. Slowly, hesitantly, you turn your head.
Heâs here.
The King of Curses.
Sukuna lounges against the inner ledge of the pool as though heâs always been there. One arm is slung lazily over the stone behind him, another resting loosely at his side, droplets sliding down the planes of his skin. And the remaining two are folded under the water.
Heâs watching you.Â
No, observing you.Â
That smirk curls at his lips, sharp and satisfied, eyes glinting with something dark and entertained. âWell,â he drawls, voice echoing low against the stone walls, âyour floundering was amusing.â
âW-why,â you begin, gulping air and frantically shoving the wet hair clinging away from your face, âwhy did you do that?â
A hum floats through the air, carried by the steam. It sweeps your skin. Sukuna says, âBecause I could.â Then he barks a laugh. âWhen I came here to wash the stink of my latest massacre, I did not expect to find a human bathing in my onsen. How brazen of you.â
When he snaps his fingers together, you flinch.Â
Uraume appears.Â
Their head is downcast. They donât look at your body, which you suddenly remember is bare and visible through the clear water. You throw your arms over your private parts.Â
âWho is this woman and why have you not killed her upon her first step of trespass?â he asks his servant. Sukuna doesnât sound mad. Only curious.Â
âBecause she is your bride, my Lord.â
You flinch at the term.Â
Sukuna barks a laugh again. âMy bride? My bride! How comical that I would forget I have one.â He turns to you, eyes narrowing in with interest. âWhy have you only now appeared before me?â
Gulping, you tentatively answer, âI did not think you would want to see me. And Iâm sorry I intrudedââ
âWise,â he says, one of his massive arms running through his wet hair. âI am not usually fond of seeing humans; you are all so hideous and constantly quivering in my presence.â
Thereâs no possible way to reply to that, not without getting your blood spilled for insolence.Â
He stands upon the ledge and exits the pool.Â
Heâs completely naked, as you are. His broad back, the impressive muscles that make it up, the perfectly symmetrical tattoos. He turns. His cocks swings with the movement. You quickly avert your eyes, cheeks warm.Â
If Sukuna notices that you noticed, he doesnât say. Only, âTry not to drown â my pet swims beneath but he has already had his fill. Do not fatten him with your flesh.â
When you hurriedly climb out, squealing, his laughter echoes, filling the space even once his body, and his servantâs, have left.Â
You kneel on the smooth ground, panting, soaked and dripping, and thinking one thing:
The Curse King has a sense of humour.
And two giant cocks.
.
.
.
The next day, you find yourself back at the pool.Â
You tell yourself itâs simply because you want to bathe, but perhaps if you were more honest with yourself, youâd accept that maybe you were curious to see if heâd be there.Â
And he is.
Sukuna leans against the very same ledge he had been yesterday. He watches your every move, from when you first step in, to when you shyly shrug off your nightgown, and when you submerge yourself in the warm water.
Something has brought you here.Â
A pull you could not deny.
Thinking too much about it gives you a headache, so you let your body move on its own, unhindered by logic, by your mindâs concerns. You want to bathe, to be clean. He hadnât killed you yesterday, and that counts for something.Â
Of course, you know the smart thing to do would be to not push it, to understand that two run-ins with him that didnât lead to immediate death doesnât mean a third would end the same, to count your blessings.Â
ButâŠ
Bath.
He says nothing, only runs a finger across the seam of his lips as his eyes drink up every shift of your body.
Boldly, albeit shakily, you ask, âWhy havenât you killed me yet?â
Sukunaâs eyes glint.Â
âI wonder the same thing myself.â
Thatâs not an answer, you note. But you donât poke, scared if you do, if you push your limits more than you already have, heâll snap your head as easily as he had snapped his fingers.Â
The way his eyes pin you down on the ledge opposite him has you squirming in your seat. Itâs too intense. Too strong. Too dizzying. So you try to pretend itâs not cascading down the skin visible to him; you push forward, wading in the water. You stare at the ceiling, at the distance, at the darkness of the depths, at anything but him.Â
âMy village offered me as sacrifice,â you remind him. âWill you spare them?â
Somewhere, he lazily replies, âI have yet to decide.â
Humming, as though you thought as much, you wonder aloud, âWhat will you do with me? I cannot imagine that the King of Curses would find much use in a human wife.â
âNo, neither can I,â Sukuna drawls.
On and on, you swim. Arms cut through the water in slow, steady strokes, legs kicking behind you in a rhythm thatâs begun to feel automatic. Thereâs no sense of direction, no shore to aim for, just the endless stretch of water surrounding you, thick and quiet, swallowing any sound you might make. Time slips, dissolves, until all that remains is movement for the sake of movement.
Then, as you turn, your hand meets something solid.Â
The impact is soft but jarring, your palm flattening instinctively against it. A wall. Smooth, unmoving, impossibly present where there had only ever been open water.
You gasp.Â
Sukuna stands behind you.Â
The bottom of the pool had risen. You still cannot reach it, but youâre aware that if you tried to, the waterâs surface would be just above your head. The pool is under his command, bending to his will. How incredible.
Bare, wet skin meets bare, wet skin.Â
The heat of his body is hotter than that of the water.Â
He doesnât step away despite how the water seems to be pushing you to him.Â
How did he get to you so fast? Last you saw, he was still sitting on the ledge. No, perhaps the better question is, why had he moved closer to you at all?
Hands grab your ribs. You gasp. Theyâre firm, callused. Burning.
âWife?â he repeats, wide smirk revealing rows of flesh-tearing teeth. âYou are not my wife. You are my bride. I am sure even a puny, little thing like you understand that there is a process to be followed, yes?â
A nail flicks your nipple under the water.Â
You let out a shuddery breath.Â
The other two hands grip the back of your thighs, lifting them till theyâre wrapping around his hips. The top half of your body has emerged from the water, water dripping down. You throw your arms around his neck, a reflex to grab onto something before you fall.Â
Breasts presses to his chest. He must feel how hard your nipples are. Youâre flushed with embarrassment, and an acute awareness of how much bigger his own body is to yours â if he wanted to, he could crush you with his bare hands.
Sukunaâs sharp fangs glint at the very peaks as he runs his tongue over them. âFor you to be my wife, we would have to observe tradition. Do you understand what I refer to, little human?â
Breathless, you answer with your own question: âDo you refer to the wedding night, my Lord?â
One of his cocks pokes your entrance. You tense up.Â
Youâve seen their size; they are inhumanly big. They could not fit inside you, not without the preparation that the women in your village had giggled about, perhaps not even with.
But he doesnât shove it inside you all in one go.Â
He doesnât shove it inside at all.
The king merely slides you down his body, just a little, until that cock is sandwiched between your bodies.Â
It bumps a good spot on your cunt. You gasp.
âI do,â Sukuna says, huffing in amusement at your reaction. âI admit I have not been married before myself, but it is one aspect I am curious about.â
His strong hands are moving you up and down, testing every little sound that leaves your lips. And youâre letting him.
Is there something in the water? Some elixir thatâs making you susceptible to his whims? An aphrodisiac stimulating wetness out of your pussy?
He must feel it, must feel how it drips down his length. Just like how you can feel the prominent veins of a cock thatâs grown fully erect without you noticing. How long has he been like this? Since you walked in? Before?
Your nipples are scraping his chest. The sensation has you arching closer to him, grip around his body tightening. âM-my Lord!â
Sukuna tuts, moving you up and down like youâre a mere toy for his pleasure. He scolds, âThat is not my name.â
âSukuna?â you experimentally mutter the words. His cock throbs. You both groan. âS-somethingâs happening.â
Hips moving on their own, you feel as though youâve been possessed. Your body is no longer your own â some invisible thing is urging you to grind down on his cock, on that burning heat between you, rubbing your clit on his flushed cockhead, on the veins that run up and down his length.
Humming, he says, quite distracted, âYes. Something is. Allow it to happen. Do not fight it.â
This is pleasure youâve never felt before. Pleasure you didnât know truly existed. The women in your village always spoke of sexual pleasure as something only for men, joy a girl would be lucky to experience even once, if their partner was generous and not selfish, which was apparently rare.Â
Yet, here is, grinding your clit on the veins of his cock.
He licks his lips. âGo on, little human. Give it to me.â
With a loud moan, you throw your head back. Spasms wrack your body. A heady explosion warms your belly. Spurts of something even warmer paint your chest and stomach.Â
Sukuna grunts, fingers digging into the plush of your ass.Â
âFuck.â
Your head falls back on his chest, slumping with sudden languishness. You pant. His chest rises with his own heavier breaths.Â
Coming back into your own senses, you tense. Then push away. He lets you.Â
âIâm so sorry,â you say, in near tears from shame. âPlease forgive me, my Lord.â
You wade back, further and further away from him. Blood has pooled in your cheeks. What have you done? If he wasnât going to kill you before, he certainly will now that youâve defiled his body.
He pays you no mind. The water around his still body ripples. Sukuna grunts. Sucks in a harsh breath. Water laps at his contracting abdomen. Furious. Violent. You cannot tear your eyes away from the sight.Â
Oh godâŠheâs tugging furiously at his other cock whilst the other floats. His own spend is drying on his chest.Â
Mouth watering, you almost step forward to offer a hand.
But you donât.
Instead, you turn around and make a run back to your room.
.
.
.
You havenât returned to the pool. Not once in the week that passed.
He might not have killed you but one thingâs certain: you do not want to run into him again.Â
Especially now that youâve caught his attention. Reminded him of your existence. Which is as one would expect: worse than being forgotten. So, so, so much worse.Â
For, every day since the meeting at the pool, heâs taken to dropping off severed limbs at your door. Still warm. Still bleeding. Often twitching. First it was a big toe. Then a whole foot. A finger. A hand. An arm.Â
And today, a head.
A scream shook the walls once your eyes landed on the thing.
Your scream.
Perhaps itâs adrenaline that urges every stomp your feet make. Perhaps anger or indignation. Whatever it is, it has you near-running through the halls, searching in every hollow for him.Â
An almost full circle has been carved at the very end of one tunnel you stumble down. Vines creep out of it. You step inside, heaving, and with fists balled at your side.Â
A garden.
It stretches farther than your eyes can follow, lush and sprawling, like the earth itself had been coaxed open and persuaded to bloom in defiance of everything you thought you knew about this place. The ceiling arches high above, fractured in places where thin shafts of pale light filter through, catching on drifting pollen and casting the entire space in a soft, dreamlike haze.
The air is warm here. Heavy with scent.
Sweet. Overripe. Almost intoxicating.
Itâs not a human garden, you can tell immediately; the grass is black, as is the soil, and the roots which emerge from the ground are red. Things that couldnât exist in the same place do, cohabiting quite well.Â
Flowers youâve never seen before crowd the ground in wild abundance â petals like silk and flame, some translucent, others so dark they seem to drink in the light. Vines coil and twist up natural pillars of stone, heavy with blossoms. Leaves skim against your legs as you step forward, wide and waxy, or delicate as lace, each one foreign.
âHowâŠ?â you whisper, though there is no answer. It shouldnât have been possible to have a whole forest inside a mountain. But then again, a great many things shouldnât have been possible, yet they are.
The path, if it can even be called that, winds forward through the growth, barely visible beneath the encroaching green. It feels endless. Like you could spend your entire life sprinting down the path and never make it to the end.
There, some distance ahead, partially obscured by the curtain of hanging vines, a figure moves.
You freeze.
Bare feet press against the dark soil, soundless. A loose robe hangs from his shoulders, open just enough to reveal the breadth of his chest and the markings etched into his skin stark against the softness of the garden around him. One hand drags idly along the leaves as he walks.
âHello, little bride.â
It still surprises you that he can utter the word so casually. You donât flinch this time however. You only glower and maintain the distance. âWhy have you been giving me body parts?â you interrogate, grateful that your voice is as firm as when you had rehearsed.
Sukuna lifts one shoulder in a shrug. âWhy have you not stepped foot outside your room since?â
He resumes walking.
Toward you.
Each step is unhurried, deliberate, crushing petals beneath his feet without a second thought. The garden seems to part for him, bending subtly to his presence, vines shifting, leaves snaking aside in quiet submission.
You donât move.
You tell yourself you wonât.
Your pulse stutters anyway.
âYou fear me,â Sukuna observes, like heâs stating something obvious. His eyes drag over you, taking in every inch, every subtle shift in your breathing, the way your fingers curl tighter at your sides. âAnd yet you came looking.â
âBecause I want to know why youâve been giving me body parts,â you snap.
âMm.â
Heâs closer now.
Close enough that you can feel the heat of him, even in the thick, perfumed air of the garden. Close enough that you can see the faint sheen of moisture still clinging to his skin, the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath the loose fall of his robe.
Another step.
Instinct finally kicks in; you shift back, just one pace.
The corner of his mouth lifts. âI was curious.â
Your brows knit. âAbout what?â
âHow long it would take,â he says lightly, âfor you to stop hiding.â A finger traces the curve of your cheek. You hold your breath, staring up at him, waiting for his next move. Sukuna mutters, âHow odd that your scent would be so much sweeter than the flowers that grow here. It makes me wonder.â
Why is heat travelling down your body? Why arenât you running away, revolted by his touch or the gravel in his voice? Were you still thinking about the feel of his body against yours, both naked, in the pool? Of the cocks whose soft lengths had been engrained in your mind?
His nostrils flare.Â
A flash in his eyes.
âThere it is,â he rasps. âA scent I could not escape, so much more potent now.â
In a blink of an eye, youâre flipped over, dangling in the air. He has you by the ankle, lifted high up.Â
You grab onto his robe, which has parted. Right in front of you is his cock. Both of them. Neither soft now. Definitely not soft. One smacks you right against the face. It leaves a wet mark.Â
The musk of a refined monster hits you. ItâsâŠitâs addictive. Your mouth waters again, stronger this time than the time at the pool now that theyâre so much closer to you. Irresistible.Â
Sukuna presses a nose to the apex of your thighs. Skin on skin. You jolt.
Your dress had fallen down your body, ballooning around your face. You hold the material away â he can see everything. That fact has you aware that you can see him too. The thickness of his cocks, the lengths rivalling your forearm, the weight of the balls beneath. Everything about him is massive. Intended to subjugate. Designed to dominate.Â
âYou are already wet. Soaked,â he muses, thoroughly humoured. He rubs his nose on your clit, nuzzling the little bud. You dig your nails into his thighs. âFilthy, little human.â
Thatâs all he says before he licks a stripe through your slit.
âSukuna!â
âMm. Dessert. Just in time.â
The beast licks and laps and sucks. It isnât anything like the women at the village described â men are supposed to be reluctant, theyâre supposed to be frightened. Sukuna isnât. Heâs consuming your juices as though starved, needing nourishment.Â
In front of you, something emerges from his skin.
A wolfish grin.
Thereâs a mouth on his stomach, lips curled up and teeth gleaming. You scream, fighting to get out of his tight hold.
SMACK!
Sukuna slapped your ass. A dull heat blossoms on the flesh. He commands, âStay still. I cannot dine when you worm like so.â
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Cruelly, he lays short slaps right on your clit, sending juices splashing onto your skin. The way his palm sticks, the sloppy noises, it's all so degrading. Heâs doing it on purpose. Heâs revelling in your clear desire for him.
Youâre almost too distracted by the sight of a second, bigger mouth. Almost. But nothing can truly, wholly tear your attention away from the sucking of your clit and the way a fire is being lit in your very core. Soon, a thick tongue finds your entrance and buries itself inside. Your eyes roll back.
A hot, wet thing slides up the valley of your breasts. Slithering. Testing. Tasting.
The mouth, you realise. Itâs sticking its fat tongue out, licking your breasts the way Sukunaâs face mouth is licking the inside of your cunt, stretching your walls, teasing the pleats there.Â
âDelicious,â one of them says. You canât tell which. So much is happening at once. Too many to process.Â
At your lips, one of his cockheads smears its seed. You lick your lips. Itâs salty. Eyes fixed on the frighteningly red thing, you open your mouth to suckle at it. That familiar possession has returned. Youâre being controlled by an invisible force â your jaw has to widen to take the bulbous head. Your tongue runs over the tip, where thereâs a slit.Â
Sukuna groans, pleased. Then he growls, âDo not neglect the other.â
Slightly afraid, you do as he says. The other cock is just as hard, just as big and long as the one youâre sucking on. It throbs approvingly when you tug on it.Â
âGood,â he groans out. âVery good, little bride.â
Obscene squelches are coming from above. Itâs a reminder of how wet you are for him. Of how delirious the pleasure is. Of how you arenât disgusted by the magical tongue flicking your tits, playing with the mounds, running the tip of it over your nipples. Youâre not disgusted by the salty taste of him, of how he seems to be constantly leaking.
Heâs lapping up at your pussy so furiously that he makes frustrated, wrathful sounds; heâs mad that youâre not producing enough wetness to match the pace in which heâs drinking it up.
âMore,â he commands. âGive me more. Now.â
Sukuna pushes his face closer, uncaring of the fact that youâre making a mess all over his cheeks. He only has one thing on his mind.Â
âIâm gonna cum,â you warn him, mouth full and words garbled. The unfamiliar word leaves your lips so naturally you think youâd been warning him all your life of your impending orgasm.
Unfortunately, the warning is wasted. You donât think he even hears the words with your thighs muffling his ears.
âSukuna!â
The very same feeling, the same sensations, as the time in the pool rushes through you. Bolts of lightning thrum beneath the surface of your skin. You shudder, moaning lewdly.Â
He doesnât stop. If anything, heâs only emboldened by the juices overflowing out of you. Slurrrrrping! so animatedly. So viciously. So animalistically.Â
A feral beast sucking your sensitive clit into another orgasm only minutes later.Â
Itâs too much. It almost hurts. You slap at his meaty thigh. That seems to snap him out of his mania.
In a flash, youâre flipped back upright. Blood descends down your body. Lightheaded, your knees weaken. He catches you, lifting you up in his arms all while heâs collecting as much of your juices off his skin he can reach with his tongue.
ThudâŠthudâŠthudâŠ
Sukuna strolls through the garden and back out into the rocky halls, robe discarded. Your dress is soaked with a mix of your juices, sweat, and his saliva. Youâre filthy. He doesnât complain.
Thankfully, thereâs no one in the hallways to witness the remnants, of the proof, of your mutual debauchery.
âI have never considered myself as having a sweet tooth,â Sukuna begins, musing to himself, âbut now I believe I would very much like to have dessert after every meal. What do you say, little human?â
âHmm,â you sleepily hum.
âThen we are in agreement,â Sukuna concludes, pleased.
Your eyes flutter shut, too tired to keep them open. Before you fall into slumber, you feel a bed much softer than you remember cushion your body.Â
A hardness flanks you.
You dream of many hands brushing your hair, patting your hip, rubbing your belly, and tracing your cheek.
.
.
.
Since youâve come to accept your odd relationship with the King of Curses, youâve been spending an awful amount of time with him lately.Â
It started off with him keeping you in his room.Â
Itâs a much nicer room than yours. Infinitely so. Almost triple the size and more lavishly decorated â a huge bed with silk sheets and a canopy with deep velvet curtains, a plush rug, dark red orchids in intricate and complex positions upon a table, paintings of different moments in time of human suffering that concerningly do not bother you.
You always find yourself back in here.Â
Whenever you wander through the halls, the walls seem to shift. They lead you back to his room. At first you were hesitant to enter, and youâd try to go a different way, but the caves insisted.
He isnât here ever.Â
So youâve started to think of it as your own.Â
During meal times, thatâs when youâd see Sukuna.Â
Uraume would often escort you out of the room and into the dining hall. Another enormous space. Youâd dine with him, and only him. Thereâd be curses posted inside, but they always step out, to give you privacy you assume. Naturally, these mealtimes were awkward for you in the beginning.Â
Sukuna didnât speak. Not at first. He would just watch you eat, which only made you feel more awkward.Â
You were the one who broke the silence. âAre you⊠are you not going to eat, my Lord?â you asked tentatively.
A devious grin came upon his face. Happy he won a competition you didnât know you signed up for. He replied, âI will. I am simply fattening up my pig before I devour her.â
Heat flushed through you. Cutlery clinking against the fine china, you gulped. There was a dangerous awareness of the darkness of his eyes feasting upon your flesh â you felt its weight sliding down the plumpness of your cheeks, the length of your neck, your collarbones, and your breasts which threatened to spill out from the confines of your dress.Â
Perhaps fear should have overtaken you at that moment.
Only relief and desire did.Â
What set you on edge most was not knowing what he wanted from you, why he had Uraume collect you, why he was wasting his time here when he could be doing kingly duties.Â
Now that he had made clear what he was seeking, you could allow yourself to rest easy and actually taste the food you were shovelling into your mouth.Â
âI am the pig in question?âÂ
âYes,â he replied immediately. A hand shoved a plate of pancakes towards you, encouraging. âYou certainly squeal like one.â
Frowning, and pushing the plate away because you have too much to eat already, you argued, âI do not.â
âDo too,â he said, pushing the plate back towards you.
âDo not!â
An arm wrapped around your waist faster than you could see. Another swiped the food off the table. Everything fell with cacophonous clangs and bangs and splats!Â
Sukuna placed you on the table, which was now bereft of food. Your back met the hard wood. Your legs were thrown over his shoulders. Dress hiked up your waist. You were bared to him. Two of his callused hands yanked you closer to his face. Those four eyes, all scarlet and glinting up at you, didnât look away.Â
He wanted you to watch him take a long whiff of your cunt.
His grip tightened on you once your scent hit him with full force. His eyes rolled back. Sukuna snarled, âLetâs see which of us is right.â
There were no soft kisses upon your sensitive skin, no caresses. Only unrestrained feasting. He immediately latched onto your clit, sucking on the thing with a fury. You cried out.Â
The king was frightening in his aggression.Â
He was gulping down every drop your pussy produced to please him, and it wasnât nearly enough. Terrifying growls shook the table.Â
Sukuna seemed addicted to making your cunt let out vulgar squelchessss!
They came in quick succession. One after the other. Loud and clear. Displaying how well he was playing with your clit.Â
âLook at how your cunt flutters, searching for my cocks,â he mused, thumbing the entrance but not pushing in. âAnd look how your petals have grown swollen with blood. Oh, I bet your blood tastes as good as your pussy. Weâll test that too, another day.â
Stammering, you pleaded, âDonât look!âÂ
He stared too intently. Saw too much. It was more intimate than being tasted.Â
âNonsense,â Sukuna said, waving you off. âI will look as I please, and I very much do.â
In response to his renewed lapping of your juices, you could only writhe and run your nails down the wood for anything to ground you.
âDo not waste your claws on the table,â he spat, spare hands snatching your ups and offering his wrists for you to dig into. You hesitated, chest heaving and vision swimming. Then he asked, âYou do not find my flesh good enough to mark? You wish to offend your groom when he is at the altar of your legs?â
You didnât want to know what he was like when he was offended so you clung to his thick wrists. You made a mental note not to actually scratch him â that seemed a more criminal act than offending him â but the pleasure born from his ravishing of your pussy bordered on pain and you could not help yourself.
The very moment your nails caught on his skin and broke through, one of the hands that was keeping your shaking legs apart darted out. It landed on your chest. With brutish finesse, it ripped your bodice. Cool air grazed over your breasts. That hand latched onto a tit.Â
âW-whatâ Oh God!â you screamed.Â
SomethingâŠ
Something on his palm was suckling your nipple, like a babe.Â
Sukunaâs amused huff vibrated through your pussy, sending shivers up your spine. âNo, not God, little bride. It is me. My mouth is making you feel good. But,â he adds after a little thought, âI do not mind being worshipped as a deity, heh.â
How could he be so nonchalant when two sets of mouths were eating you up, when your eyes were at risk of being permanently lodged at the back of your head? How could he make conversation so easily when his tongue, which felt so impossibly long, was wriggling through your walls and teasing the entrance to your womb? When the mouth at his palm was suctioning your nipple into that impossible space?
âDelicious,â he snarled, positively starved of your taste. âSo fucking sweet. How can a human be soâŠsoâŠdivine? It defies nature.â
He wasnât talking to you anymore. He was manically muttering to himself, reasoning with his own understanding of the balance of life. It baffled him. Bewildered him. Excited him. Sukuna could not get enough of you.
Whining, you called out his name, âS-Sukuna! Itâs too -hngh!- much. I canât.â
âCum,â he said.Â
Your head shook, thrashed. âNo, I -hah- canât!â
âCum,â he repeated. No, commanded. Ordered. Demanded.Â
And you could not deny a king.Â
You fell apart on the dining table with a scream. Wetness rushed out of you as though a dam had broken. He drank it all up. Slurrrrrpeddd! every single drop until you were writhing again. And when he growled, âMore,â and, âAgain,â you could not deny him then either.
It might have been hours later before he decided heâd had his fill.
Aside from meal times, you donât see him during the day. Heâs always gone. No one will tell you why, and you donât feel brave enough to ask. You merely assume heâs doing kingly duties â keeping the curses of the Underworld and of the forests in line, maintaining balance between humans and monsters, and protecting his people.Â
In the meantime, you read in his room, which is now your room. There are plenty of books here. More than you could ever read in a lifetime, and certainly more than there ever were in your village. Itâs hard to imagine he read any of the books in the collection but there are signs of use: folded pages, cracked spines, yellowing.Â
He read each one you had opened.Â
Poems.Â
Novellas.Â
Journals of travels beyond.Â
You donât mind the hours spent on your own; the goblins walking along still scare you so you avoid running into them. Of course, thereâs always the option to ask during your mealtimes, in between him eating you out and actually consuming food, if you could visit the village (for you know returning was too much). Not that you especially wanted to go home.Â
The villagers had sold you.Â
Abandoned you.
They would not welcome you home.Â
So you must consider the heart of the mountain your new home.
Itâs simply about asking, about knowing the answer, about having the option.
But each time you considered bringing up your village to him, you backed out at the last second. He was not your husband. Not really. Not yet. Heâs not even really your groom. That just seems like an excuse to do the salacious things youâve been doing. At most, heâs your friend, and you cannot burden your friend more than you already have.Â
Truthfully, it hardly matters what exactly he is to you. Heâs nice. Attentive. Generous. He hasnât killed you, he hasnât hurt you, hasnât massacred your village and your family, and hasnât thrown back in your face any of those facts.Â
Thatâs why every morning, when you know Uraume will escort you, you make sure never to be late.
You obediently, possibly excitedly, wait in front of the door for the knock.Â
You slide a hand down your new dress; it appeared in the closet, and is your size. It certainly isnât Sukunaâs. Red lace, soft silk, dainty bows, easy to move in and breathe â itâs a beautiful dress. Far more expensive and luxurious than anything youâd ever owned. The chest areaâs a little tight; it pushes your breasts up more than youâre used to, and somehow youâre sure that was on purpose.Â
When the door opens, Uraumeâs patient self leads you out. Theyâre quiet. Respectful. They have been since the very first night.Â
âThank you.â
Cold eyes flit to you. âWhat ever for, my lady?â
âFor saving me,â you say, fiddling with the lace on your dress. âIf you hadnât suggested that he humour me, Sukuna would haveââ
âThe king,â Uraume cuts in, spine straight and gaze fixed ahead now, âdoes only as he pleases. It is his right. He grows bored of his new toys very quickly, and it is my duty to keep him entertained. I saw an opportunity to fulfil my responsibility. That is all.â
You have no response to that. You only blink, surprised and berating yourself for being so. Sukuna may be your friend, in your eyes at least, but Uraume is not. Sukuna may not mind the fact that you are human, but others may not share the same sentiment. Maybe Uraume thinks you are a plague. A rat. Thatâs often the story humans spread about curses and their philosophies.
Soon, you reach the double doors leading to the garden. Before the doors are opened, they add, âIt is also my duty to throw old toys away.â
When you turn to look at them, theyâre already gone.
âFinally,â Sukuna says, exasperated. âI resent being kept waiting. Walk here with haste, little bride.â
Uraumeâs words linger in your mind; Sukunaâs sharp rows of teeth flash washes them away.Â
Heâs in his loose robes, bottom set of arms tucked into the wide sleeves. A hand beckons you over, and the moment you are within reach, he snatches you up. Youâre carried up in his arms, high enough to come face to face with him and see all four of his eyes watching you.Â
Sukuna nuzzles the crook of your neck. He starts walking down the path. Branches tickle the top of your head. âDid you sleep well?â he wonders. His voice vibrates against your skin. It tickles.
Gripping his hair for purchase, you murmur, âYes.â Then, shuddering once his lips explores the length of your neck, you ask, âDid you?â
âI do not sleep,â he casually replies.Â
Within minutes, heâs managed to walk so deep into the garden that the surroundings have changed from exotic flowers full of vibrant colours and shapes to a forest of cherry blossoms. Petals whirl around you, swirling with the gentle wind.Â
Above you, the cave walls have shifted into the blue and vast open sky.Â
You gasp. âAre weâŠare we outside?â
The brightness almost sting your eyes; you have to narrow them with a wince to avoid being blinded. The smell of fresh air too nearly burns your nostrils. The chatter of live animals and insects are near deafening at first. Everythingâs so different, so new, yet so familiar, so ordinary that it becomes magical to your senses.Â
He parts from your neck to eye your reaction. The smile on your face makes his grip on you tighten. Sukuna says, âYes. Your complexion looked rather dull without sunlight, and my bride must be at her very best at all times. So here we are.â
That doesnât sound quite true upon his lips but you donât question him on it.Â
Instead, you beam at him and gush, âThank you! Oh, itâs wonderful out.â
Itâs easy to forget what the world above is like when youâve spent countless nights under the mountain with rocks for company.Â
Sukuna sets you down. You waste no time running around, laughing at the green grass that tickles your bare feet.Â
The grass inside the mountainâs garden is black, with roots being red, for reasons you could not fathom. Itâs coarser too. The softness of this green, human grass, in comparison, sets your heart racing.
Thereâs no wind inside the mountain, only a draught. This calm air is fresher, warmer, soothing on the body and doesnât settle.Â
And the warmth of the sunâŠ
Beams of distant fire soaks into your skin. You sigh, a small smile on your lips.Â
When you turn back, heâs sitting under a tree, all arms crossed and watching you. Always watching. Always aware of your every move, every position, every shift.Â
Somewhat shy with the realisation that heâd seen the entire display, you stroll back to his side.Â
âIt is a lovely day out, yes?â he says.Â
You nod, grinning. âItâs perfect. Just perfect.â
About to sit beside him, you let out a squeal when he snatches you up again and sits you down on his lap. All of his arms cage you. Sukuna rests his chin on the top of your head.Â
âNow it is,â he mumbles, chest rumbling against your back.Â
You smile again, more coy this time, and grateful he canât see it.
The grass is untouched. No footprints mar it. No broken twigs, no distant rustling of hidden creatures. It is a forest, yes, but stripped of all the unease that forests usually carry.
It is only you and him.Â
Your fingers curl into the fabric of his sleeve as another petal lands on your lap. You pick it up, studying it like it might vanish if you blink too long. Glancing back at him, you tilt your head slightly. âDid youâŠmake this place like this?â
His chin presses a little more firmly into your hair, a quiet, possessive weight. âIt exists on its own,â he says. âI allow it to remain.â
Another petal skims your lips. Without thinking, you laugh â light, bright, unguarded â as you try to catch it, only for it to slip away again, carried by a breeze that barely stirs the trees.
âYouâre noisy,â he mutters.
Yet he does not tell you to stop.
You lean back into him instead, comfortable now, warm from the sun and from him both. One of his hands idly flicks a petal from your shoulder, the motion almost absent-minded, as though he doesnât realise heâs doing it. Or perhaps he does. And simply doesnât care.
Your gaze drifts across the clearing again, softer this time. Slower. Relaxed, you ask, âYou said you donât sleep. What do you do at night?â
Sukuna hums, fingers drumming on your stomach. âI take care of my business.â
Thatâs vague, you think, but you donât push. Instead, you ask another question: âWhy do you not return to the chambers?â
He chuckles, teasing. âHow forward of you, little bride. We have not yet been wed and youâre already asking to share the marital bed. Is this how you humans do it in this day and age?â
Heat flushes your cheeks. You smack one of his wandering hands, which has crept up to cradle a breast, and huff, âNo, thatâs not what Iâm saying. I just mean, everyone needs sleep. Surely even you, the King of Curses. I wonder how you rest is all.â
A moment of contemplation passes.
Did you say something wrong? Did you go too far?
Did he hate that you smacked him?Â
âYou are right,â he eventually says, head coming down to nudge you. His lips gently touches your cheek. âI do need rest. So allow me.â
His strong hands easily lift you off his lap, placing you down on the grass. Sukuna unfolds his large body and comes to lie perpendicular to you. His head weighs your thighs down.Â
With a wave of his hand, a book appears in your left hand at the same time he takes your right and cradles it to his chest. âRead,â he instructs. âRead to me. And after my nap, I will eat your little cunt and slap your clit thrice to punish you for smacking my hand even just once.â
A flutter at your core has his eyes peering up at you, glinting. He must have sensed it. Somehow. Whether by feeling or by smell. How mortifying.Â
âOr,â he starts, âI can eat you out now. I am fine with whatever order you prefer.â
âNo, Iâll read,â you hurriedly say. You flick to the first page, reading the words out loud and only sighing in relief when his eyes flutter shut at the sound of your voice.Â
Sukunaâs lips curl up in the corner.
And so a new tradition is born.
.
.
.
âMy Lord,â Uraume repeats outside the door, âthey wait for you.â
Sukuna growls out, âLet them. I am preoccupied.â
Youâre pressed to the door, the cold wood warming up to the flush of your cheek. Bottom lip bitten in a desperate attempt to keep quiet, you can do nothing else but let him rut his scalding length between your thighs.Â
This evening, heâd woken you up with his tongue buried inside your cunt. It seems after another whole day out in the garden, reading and strolling with him and tasting each other beneath trees before or after his naps, you fell asleep and were carried back into your chambers.Â
Has it been days or weeks since youâve built up this routine of spending the days together and spending evenings apart?
Time seems to pass so quickly and yet so slowly. Itâs begun to lose all meaning to you. Itâs not a fact you lament.
You jolted with a shriek at the hulking figure under your covers. âAbout time,â he said, throwing the heavy thing off and baring how his skin glistened with your spend to you. âI thought I might have to fuck you with both my cocks at once to wake you.â
He was joking, you were sure. Or hopedâŠ
âWake me?â you repeated, back arching. âW-why?â
Sukuna replied, a fang rubbing your clit and being especially careful not to cut you, âBecause I must leave again, but I did not want to without hearing my name upon your lips.â
A whine tore through you. âWhy couldnât you just wake me up the normal way?â
Red eyes flashed mischievously from below. He licked a strike up your inner thigh all while not breaking eye contact. âBecause normal does not taste as good.â
Uraumeâs voice called out soon after, reminding him of the evening meeting. You stiffened. Could they hear you? Do they know what he was doing with you on the bed?Â
Feeling embarrassed, you kicked Sukuna off and tried to push him to the door. You hissed, âYou need to go. They need you.â
A hand slid inside your dress and groped your breast, cursed mouth appearing to nurse on your nipple. Another lifted your skirt up so that a third can coat its fingers in your cuntâs essence with the intention of easing the entry inside.Â
âSo does your cunt,â he said. âAnd I know which I would rather attend to first.â
Oh, he was filthy. So, so filthy.
And so persuasive.Â
With you continuing, and struggling, to shake him off â legs quivering from the number his mouths had done to you today â you eventually made it to the door and was about to open it when something hot and heavy rested upon the curve of your ass and a second parted your puffy pussy lips.Â
It was almost like he planned this.Â
âDo not make a noise,â Sukuna rakishly rasped to your ear. Two rough hands gripped your bare hips, dressed hiked up over your ass. âLest youâd like for Uraume to know what weâre doing.â
You definitely did not â they donât like you very much. This wouldnât help your case.Â
ButâŠ
His cocks are rubbing you up and down and back and forth. His fat cockhead keeps catching on your pulsing clit, bumping the thing over and over again until your cuntâs drooling on his veiny length.Â
âPress your thighs together. Tighter,â he commands, and groaning once you do. âEvery part of you feels so good. Itâs maddening.â
The pleasure building up in your core from a few thrusts is maddening. Truly. Irrevocably. You canât tell him that, however. You canât speak; if you do, a loud moan might slip out.Â
Sukunaâs grunting in your ear. The sounds are driving you wild. As is the fact that your tits are out and are being squeezed relentlessly by two hands. Mouths take over his palms. They donât hesitate to latch onto your nipples. You gasp, head thrown back into his chest. âSukuna!â
âMm, I know,â he huskily says. âMe too. Be good, pretty human. Just allow me to use your thighs for now.â
Heâs so tall your hips have to be lifted up to reach his cocks. Your toes dangle over the ground. You hang precariously but you never worry for a second that he might drop you.Â
Shlick! Shlickkk!Â
The sounds are obscene and theyâre all you can hear. Uraume must hear them too. Yet, theyâre still out there, saying, âMy Lord, please. The council grows restless.â
Sukunaâs livid growl shakes the door. âThey. Will. Wait. Do not interrupt me again.â
His rutting speeds up. The sucking of his cursed mouths intensifies. The tip of the cock behind you is smearing pre-cum on your back, and the sensation has you clenching around nothing.Â
âIâm cumming,â you whisper, eyes shut tight. âNghhh!â
âGood,â he breathes out. âGood girl.â
You bring a hand down to your cunt, cupping the cockhead appearing and disappearing with every shallow thrust through your lips. It nudges your palm, squelching! and leaving wet sploodges of his cum and yours. Sukuna snarls.
And just like that, he cums too. His hot cum explodes into your hand, spilling through the cracks of your fingers and splatting onto the floor. More cum bursts on your back, dirtying your dress.
Itâs so hot. Scalding.Â
He keeps ploughing between your soft thighs, wringing out every last drop until he shudders with a growl and you slump completely in his grasp.Â
When he pivots you around to check on you, specifically the cheek that had been pressed up against the door, you see his loose robe had fallen open. Some of his cum has ended up dripping down his skin. Heâs tattooed and chiselled and hard everywhere. A true killing machine. You run your fingers down his chest, smearing his cum around, all the way to his stomach where a massive mouth manifests in time to clamp onto your wrist with a grin.Â
His teeth donât break skin. They donât even hurt. They merely keep your hand inside, huge tongue slithering to lick every finger and every inch. Curiously, you grip the appendage. It really does feel like a real tongue. You stroke it.
Sukuna grips the back of your neck. He glares down at you. âYou are trying to bring me to my knees, arenât you?â
You blink. âNo! Forgive me.â You try to pull your hand out on your own but his sudden grasp on your wrist stops you.Â
âI did not say I did not like it.â He steps closer, licking his lips.Â
âMy LordâŠâ Uraume grits out through the door.Â
Sukuna groans. âYes! Alright!â
The door opens with a wave of his hand.Â
âI should massacre the whole council, then I will have all the time in the world to bury my tongue inside your cunt. One dayâŠâ he mutters under his breath, seemingly actually considering the idea. You swat his back, cheeks flushed from embarrassment.Â
Your dress falls back into place just in time for you to shield yourself from anyone elseâs eyes but Sukunaâs. Not that itâs enough.Â
Uraumeâs chilling eyes see all â the sweat on your skin, the mess of your hair, the quivering of your legs, and the droplets of cum on the floor. They do not look disgusted by it. They look disgusted by you.Â
âBe good for me, little bride,â Sukuna says, already stomping away. âI will look for you as soon as I am done with these fools.â
You take a step forward to Uraume, an apology on your tongue.Â
They step back, straightening up. âThese meetings are important,â they begin. âThey ensure the other lords feel seen and heard. It maintains peace in our domain, and in yours. You mustnât keep him from doing his duties. Not only is it impolite, it is also dangerous.â
âIâm sorrââ
âDo not apologise to me. Apologise to the king for wounding him,â they snap. You frown, confused. âThe marks you left on his wrists that he refuses to heal himself? He leaves them open and bleeding. He openly plays with the cuts in front of the council, in front of his audience, smiling. Whispers are making echoes of a weakness in our king. If you do not care about your safety, then you must care about his.â
Thoroughly scolded, you stay rooted in place, watching Uraume follow after Sukuna.Â
.
.
.
You take a walk through the garden this evening to clear your head.Â
What Uraume said forced you to contemplate your relationship with the king. With Sukuna. They reminded you why you were spared in the first place â youâre a toy. A thing for entertainment.Â
He is entertained by you now, by the pleasures your body provides. That, however, is not something unique to you; any woman can spread their legs, which is a crass thing to say, you know. But itâs true. To save their village, their people, to earn another day of life, or to even have the honour of serving a king, many women would offer their body up.Â
And you are no special woman. You are quite average, all things considered. Never the most beautiful woman in the room, the most intelligent, or most pure of heart.Â
The fact of the matter is, Sukuna will soon grow bored of you.Â
What is left to be considered now is, will he spare you once he finds a new toy or will you be âgotten ridâ of by Uraume?
Will you be sad?Â
The pang in your chest at the thought seems to suggest so.
Without realising it, you end up back in the cherry blossom grove.Â
It looks different at night. Just as beautiful as during the day, of course, but different. Fireflies light up the air, mingling with the stars above you. If not for them, you wouldnât know where you are, wouldnât know that the tree whose bark youâre grazing with your fingertips now is the very same tree you sit under with Sukuna.
You were always under the impression that being a king meant you could do whatever you wanted. Uraumeâs warning proved otherwise â Sukuna had people to please. And youâre who pleases him.Â
For how long will you be enough?
With a sigh, you wonder if Sukuna really will come to find you after his meeting. Heâs always busy in the evenings, and though you spent the hours of the night sleeping anyway, itâd still be nice to talk to him. His thoughts on books youâve read are quite funny.Â
He hates silly heroines who make bad decisions and always fall for the gloomy, morally grey men, yet hates the morally grey men more for their cheesy lines. ââI control shadows and I have wings,ââ heâd mimic, lowering his voice to a deeper rumble than his own. Then heâd say in his own voice, âYes, so do about a thousand other fictional men. You are not special.â
Sukunaâs brows would furrow and heâd scoff whenever youâd get flustered by the erotic passages youâd be forced to read aloud to him as you sit in his lap, but he never suggests changing books. You theorise he really just likes complaining.Â
âPretty girl?â
You jolt.Â
That voiceâŠ
âSuguru?â
Behind a tree, a silhouette hobbles over to you. âYouâre alive! Oh, thank the heavens!â
The man falls into your arms. Heâs really here. Your bestest friend. But he isnât how you remember him â long raven hair have turned matted and dull, clothes torn and dirtied, and skin scratched up. You can hardly recognise him.
He grips your face, dirt rubbing into your skin. Scanning for any harm that might have befallen you, he smiles with relief upon seeing youâre perfectly well. âIâve spent so many weeks wondering what had happened to you. Iâm so sorry. God, Iâm so sorry.â
His words are going in one ear and out the other; you can only question, with terror and trepidation, why his hands tremble, why heâs jumping at every little sound, and pulling you away inch by inch.Â
âWhat happened?âÂ
Suguruâs eyes harden. His grip falls on your shoulder. Tight. Insistent. You wince. He says, âListen to me carefully. We need to leave. We need to leave now. Weâre too deep in the Curse Kingâs territory. There are beasts about. We must run now. Come!â
Bewildered, youâre yanked forward, stumbling over your feet.Â
âWait, no, I have to stay!âÂ
Heâs not listening.Â
Deeper into the forest, youâre pulled. The cherry blossoms morph into scraggly trees, leafless and with jagged branches like teeth reaching for you. The fireflies are gone now. You have to force your eyes to adjust as you trip over rocks and logs, and as your bare feet are caked in mud and moss.Â
Looking back towards the light, you start to heave. âSukunaâŠSukunaâll be mad. I have to go back.â You try to tear his hand off your wrist, digging your nails, but he can hardly feel it. âSuguru!â you yell, in near tears.
The man whirls on you, eyes wide and red. The bags under his eyes are darker than even the dark. They startle you. âWhatâre you doing? Whyâre you fighting me? Iâm trying to save you, like I should have done when your family decided to sacrifice you to the mountain.â
You shake your head. âItâs okay. Iâm okay. Iâm not mad at you, so if youâre doing this out of guilt, then you donât need to. Just go, alright? Go before someone notices youâre here. I donât know what the goblins, Uraume, o-or Sukuna will do if they find you here.â
Suguru recoils. âSukuna? You call the monster of the mountain by his first name?âÂ
He doesnât wait for you to answer. Something seems to dawn on him. His eyes properly take you in from head to toe â your clean skin, fresh hair, the plump in your cheeks, the expensive dress you wear, the lace, the silk, the jewels.Â
He releases you, like youâd burnt him.Â
âThe king spared youâŠâ he whispers in horror. âHe spared you. And youâve been living a life of luxury, as our village burned to the ground. You call him by his first name when his name was the last thing my family had screamed in their final moments. You wish to go back, to that thing, when Iâm here and Iâm taking you awayâŠâ
âWhat do you mean?â you ask, brows knitting together. âWhat happened to our village?â
Itâs an impossible thing to imagine. Yet it shouldnât have been. Many villages have suffered the same fate, or worse, over the many years since the rise of the curses. But your village was spared because of you, because of their offering, right?
A scathing laugh slaps you on the cheek. âYou donât know? Youâve been cozying up to that monster and you donât know he wiped our village out from the map? That he massacred our people in one night? Are you just stupid or did he poison your mind?â
You fall back, shaking your head. âNo, no, he wouldnât.â
âHeâs a killer!â Suguru roars. âHeâs killed so many. Every single night. The very few of us that had survived have fled from village to village, trying to fight against him and his army of curses, but they always win. Iâve watched my friends, my allies, fall again and again. And yet, I thought of you every day. I fought for you, so I can return and save you from his torture.â
He scoffs.Â
âBut he hasnât been torturing you, has he?â Suguru grips your face suddenly, bruising your cheeks as he spits out, âNo, he hasnât had to use force to get you to spread your legs!â
Tears stream down your face. âStop it,â you cry out. âStop it!â
Suguru presses his forehead to yours, lips trembling. âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry,â he repeats. âLetâs just go, alright? We need to go. Youâre not safe even if youâve earned his favour for now. Heâs proven he isnât a man of his word, and itâs only a matter of time before he tears you limb from limb like he had done to your mother and to your father, and to mine.â
Images of your home ablaze, of the night sky filling with the screams of the dying, of blood turning the ground crimson flash in your eyes.Â
Youâre a fool. Youâd actually convinced yourself that he isnât the King of Curses, that creatures from the Underworld donât bow to him, that he hasnât been keeping you to laugh behind your back.Â
Youâd allow yourself to believe youâre Sukunaâs bride.Â
That youâre something special to him, even momentarily, even just for now.Â
Heâs looking at you impatiently, bouncing on his feet and listening out for any signs of hostile life in the forest.Â
Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself. âYes, yes. Letâs go. Heâs in a meeting right now, heâll be busy.â
And off you two go, running in the dark, hand in hand.Â
Branches whip at your arms as you run.
The forest is different at night.
Where it had been soft, warm, almost dreamlike beneath drifting blossoms, itâs now a maze of shadows and silver light, the moon caught in the petals overhead. Your breath comes sharp and uneven, lungs burning, feet barely finding the ground as you stumble over roots and fallen bark.
Beside you, Suguruâs grip is firm. Unyielding.
âDonât stop,â he says, low, urgent, pulling you forward when your pace falters. âWeâre almost past the boundaryââ
A roar splits the night.
It shakes the air. Rips through the trees. Sends petals scattering like frightened birds. The ground trembles beneath your feet, a deep, violent pulse that travels straight up your spine. It rattles your bones, grips your very soul and squeezes. Itâs in equal parts wrathful and tortured.Â
You freeze.
Suguru doesnât.
âMove,â he snaps, tightening his hold on your hand, dragging you forward again. âHe knows.â
Of course he knows.
This is his domain.
Every inch of it.
You run faster.
Faster than you ever have before, lungs screaming, vision blurring, your hand clutched in Suguruâs like itâs the only thing anchoring you to reality. The trees thin for a moment, moonlight spilling across a clearingâ
THUD!
The earth cracks beneath the impact. You both skid to a halt.
He stands there, between you and whatever hope you thought you had.
Sukuna.
Tall. Unmoving. Waiting.
That deranged smile curls slowly across his lips, too wide, too pleased, too knowing. His eyes gleam in the dark, sharp and bright and utterly unhinged, drinking in the sight of you: your dishevelled state, your trembling form, your hand still clasped in anotherâs.
For a moment, he says nothing. Then, âYou are leaving me?â His voice is almost light. Almost amused. âFor some pathetic human?â
The words hit harder than the roar. Your chest tightens, a hot and jagged thing rising up your throat, drowning out the fear, the instinct to shrink, to hide, to obey. âNo,â you snap, breath shaking. âIâm leaving because you slaughtered my village. You killed my family. You lied to me.â
He laughs. Low. Disbelieving. Growing. Sukuna tilts his head, as though genuinely intrigued by your accusation, by the audacity of it. âYou mean the village,â he begins, voice slow, deliberate, âthat threw you, bound and gagged, at the foot of my domain to be sacrificed?â
Each word lands like a blade, cutting deeper and deeper, and twisting to remind you of your lowest moment, of the humiliation, of the powerlessness you felt.
âThe family that readily offered you up? That never looked back even once?â
Your grip on Suguru tightens.
Sukunaâs smile widens.Â
âYes,â he hums, almost fondly. Inspecting his hands, as though he can see the blood that still stains his unmarred skin. âYes, I did. And very gladly.â
Something in your chest cracks.
âBut I never lied to you,â he continues, eyes narrowing just slightly, the air around him growing heavier, sharper. âYou just assumed that I would negotiate with lesser creatures. A fault that I have overlooked.â
Suguru steps forward, just enough to place himself between you and him. âYouâre done,â he says, voice steady, though thereâs tension coiled tight beneath it. âWhatever hold you think you have over herââ
Sukunaâs gaze flicks to him.
The shift is instant.
The amusement drains, not completely, but enough to reveal something colder beneath. Something ancient. Something violent.
âCareful,â Sukuna murmurs. âI do not take kindly to interruptions in my conversations with my bride.â
The air distorts.
Pressure builds, thick and suffocating, pressing against your skin, your lungs, your bones. Suguru doesnât move, but you feel the way his hand tightens around yours, grounding you even as the world threatens to tilt.Â
Why hasnât Sukuna killed you both? Why hasnât he tore you two apart? Why is he standing under the moonlight, humoured and talking so leisurely?Â
Even till now, heâs not staring down at you with deadly intent. Heâs conversing with you as if heâs asking how your breakfast is or what book youâd picked up to read to him today. Itâs impossible to know what heâs thinking, and thatâs more dangerous than if you knew he was going to rip you into pieces.
âSheâs not your bride,â he spits, tugging you behind him.
Sukuna laughs again. Four eyes settle back on you. âNot mine?â he repeats, almost thoughtfully. âAfter everything I have given you?â
A step forward.
âAfter I took you in,â he continues, voice dropping, curling around the words, âfed you, dressed you, kept you alive when the rest of your kind would have happily watched you die?â
Another step.
Trying to steel your resolve, you retort, âYou must feel betrayed, right? Imagine how I feel, Sukuna!â
âYou think I feel betrayed?â he asks, head tilting again, that awful smile returning, sharper now. âNo, little bride.â His gaze flicks briefly to your joined hands. Then back to your face. âThis is not betrayal,â he says. âThis is ingratitude. It seems I have spoiled you. Given you too much, too fast. I did not train insolence out of you. You have insulted me. And you will be punished.â
Suguru pulls you back a fraction.
âRun,â Suguru whispers.
His last words, before Sukuna flicks his wrist and his body is cut into thin ribbons of flesh, blood, muscle and bone. They fall into a neat pile by your feet, soaking the ground you stand on until your soles are caked in the remains of your only friend.
It happens so quickly, so suddenly, you couldnât blink fast enough to protect your mind from the grotesque display. You saw it all. A man, a whole life, memories, a future, diminished to mush.Â
Sukuna smiles wider.
âYes,â he says, almost eagerly. âRun, little bride.â
You do.Â
Feet slam against the forest floor. Bare soles strike damp earth. Sharp pebbles and stray twigs that snap beneath your weight. It hurts.Â
God, it hurts.Â
But you donât stop. You canât. The pain barely registers past the ringing in your ears, past the image burned into your mind, replaying over and over again.Â
Suguruâs gone. Your village. Your family. Everything familiar.Â
Your stomach twists violently, bile clawing up your throat, but thereâs no time to be sick, no time to grieve, no time for anything except run.
Branches lash at you as you tear through the undergrowth, snagging against your dress, catching in the fabric and ripping it in jagged lines. The hem tears first, then higher, threads snapping with every desperate step until the once-soft material hangs in shredded strips around your legs. Chilling air kisses the exposed skin, quickly replaced by the sting of scratches, of thin lines of blood blooming where thorns and bark have caught you.
âSo panicked. So scared.â
His voice.
Right there.
Warm.Â
Amused.
Mocking.
You choke on a gasp, nearly tripping over your own feet as you lurch forward, heart slamming so hard it feels like it might crack your ribs open. Heâs not behind you, or in front of you, and yet it sounded as though he was.Â
âI have not even begun,â Sukuna murmurs somewhere, almost thoughtful. âAnd already you look like this. Adorable.â
The forest stretches endlessly before you, trees blurring together, shadows twisting into shapes that donât exist. The petals that once felt soft now cling to your damp skin, sticking to the sweat, to the blood, to the places where your dress has torn open. Your lungs burn, each inhale sharp and shallow, your chest tightening with every second that passes.Â
You trip.
A root catches your foot, sending you pitching forward. Your hands barely catch you before your face meets the ground, palms scraping harshly against rough earth. Dirt grinds into your skin, mixing with the blood already there.
âOh dear,â he muses. âSuch a clumsy thing, you are. Thatâs why I keep you locked up with all the pretty things in my domain. Do you see now, why you must stay with me?â
Getting back to your feet, you stumble forward. âIâm never going back with you!â
You ignore the way your hands tremble, the way your legs and your unused muscles scream in protest as you force them to move again.
Run.
Run.
Run.
âYou know,â Sukuna continues, his voice drifting lazily through the air, âI expected more from you.â
Thereâs a rustle above.
A shadow moving faster than you can track.
Where is he? Why isnât he snatching you up? Why is he drawing this out?Â
Heâs like a cat toying with a mouse, playing with his food, heightening your fear so youâll taste even better.Â
âI gave you everything,â he says, less conversational now, more accusing. âAnd this is how you repay me? Running off into the woods like a frightened little animal, with some other man, a man I should have slaughtered along with the other rats?â
Your breath hitches.
âHave I not been good to you? Have I not been enough? Enough to stay for. For even a goodbye.âÂ
A tear slips down your cheek, cutting through the grime. Devastatingly, a part of you notices the subtle crack of vulnerability. He masks it with amusement, with the undercurrent of anger, but you hear it all the same.
Still running, you yell, âYouâre going to kill me, like you killed everyone. Iâm just a toy to you!â
âAnd a very bad one at that,â he retorts without missing a beat. âFear not â I will fix you once I catch you.â
âYouâre not going to catch me,â you choke out, though it sounds weak, even to your own ears.Â
Sukuna tuts and it sounds like itâs right by your ear. âAh, but I already have.â
Wind flips your hair around, making it hard to see, so when you whip your head side to side, looking for hope, you donât see the barrier ahead until itâs too late.Â
Your body meets a hard wall. Two arms cage you in, unyielding.Â
A scream pierces through the forest. Itâs so far removed from you, you think for a second that someone else is facing the same fate you are, and your heart breaks for her. When reality sets in, you cease to stop feeling sorry at all. You just werenât fast enough. No one could be against the Curse King.Â
âGot you, little bride.â
In a blink of an eye, he has you carried up by your hips.Â
âMark my words,â he says, âyou will never leave me again.â
His lips slam onto yours.Â
Sukuna wastes no time shoving his tongue inside your mouth. A shocked moan escapes you. This is your first kiss, and with him. Itâs not romantic like the stories described kisses to be. Itâs not soft, tentative, gentle. Itâs a kiss full of anger, of a need for vengeance, to dominate.Â
Sukunaâs channeling every ounce of his feeling of betrayal, try as he might to deny it, down your throat. With the nipping of his teeth hard enough to draw blood, the suckling of his lips to taste the iron on his tongue, and said tongue exploring the crevices.Â
âJust as delicious as your cunt,â he snarls, pleased.
You should fight him off, you know. But you canât. Heâs too strong, too all-consuming, too engrained in your body. It recognises his heat, his scent, his voice, and it wants more. So you donât part from him; you clamp your teeth down on his bottom lip too, tasting his blood.Â
Itâs sweet.Â
Sickly sweet in a way that rushes straight to your head.
He barks a laugh, a hand yanking your head back by your hair. âA biterâŠadorable.â He runs his tongue up the length of your neck before biting the curve. You moan. It doesnât break skin, but the threat is there, and it has you clenching around nothing.
Sukuna takes a deep inhale of the air.Â
His eyes flash red.Â
âI killed your friend, decimated your village, and your cunt is still craving pleasure from me?â he asks, though it doesnât sound very much like a question at all. âYour soul calls for me, do you realise it, little wife?â
âIâm not your wife,â you spit out.Â
âNot yet, but in just a moment, you will be,â he promises. At whatever expression you wear on your face, another laugh cuts through you. âYou do not realise the trap you have run into, do you?â
Blinking, you finally look around, processing your surroundings.Â
They glisten with something under the moonlight â too thick, too dark to be dew.Â
Blood?
Behind you, a litter of scarlet petals trails right up to where you stand, as though marking every step that led you here, every foolish attempt at escape laid out like a procession. Rows of benches stretch out on either side, carved from twisted wood and bone, thorns curling along their edges, skulls embedded into the structure.
The forest has gone still.
No insects. No birds. No wind.
Only him.
Only you.
And thisâŠ
This altar.
âA fitting setting, no?â Sukuna murmurs against your skin, his voice lower now, richer, laced with something disturbingly joyful. His grip on your hips tightens, grounding you in place even as your mind threatens to spiral. âFor a union long overdue.â
Dress hiked up around your waist, a long, slithering thing worms up your thighs. You writhe, trying to run away from it, but he wonât let you. Teeth hook into your underwear. It riiiiiiiiiips it off.
His curse tongue licks your cunt with a vengeance, as though punishing you for withholding your pussy and its juices from it. Shlick! Shlick! So vulgar. So indecent. So unrestrained.Â
Your pulse spikes. âThis isnâtââ
âIt is,â he cuts in smoothly.
The word lands like a final verdict.
Back arching, youâre powerless against the tongue prodding your entrance. He doesnât mention it. Neither do you. You donât mention how itâs far too big to enter you and yet it does, stretching your walls out with ancient powers you will never understand.Â
Inside, it licks every inch, every pleat. Maybe your hips work down, trying to suck it deeper inside. Maybe it doesnât.Â
Youâre far too focused on the fact that youâre finally at your wedding. A wedding you never wanted in the first place. A wedding he didnât want either. He was just amused by the gall of the humans.
The domain itself is bearing witness.
Thereâs no need for friends, for family, for a priest.Â
He only needs himself and you.
Sukuna turns you with absolute certainty, positioning you to face the altar. Itâs carved from dark marble, veined with something that glows faintly beneath the surface, like embers trapped beneath ash. Symbols you donât understand are etched into it, curling and jagged.Â
âI chased you,â he muses, almost idly, though his hands never leave you, never loosen. They feel your body. Squeezing. Groping. Grip pulsing. Drawing out gasps and moans. âI let you run. Let you tear yourself apart on branches and roots like a frightened little thing.â
His fingers drag over one of the scratches on your arm, smearing the thin line of blood.
âAnd still,â he continues, voice dropping, âyou came exactly where I wanted you.â
Your throat tightens.
âI didnâtââ
âYou did,â he says, almost gently now, and that softness is far more terrifying than anything else. âEvery path you chose. Every step you took. It all led here.â
The petals shift under your feet as he guides you forward.
One step.
And another.
âTo me.â
Your thighs are soaked with his saliva. The entrance to your womb is being tickled. Clit rubbed by a wide, flat tongue. Youâre face to face with him, panting, eyes unable to tear away with the undeniable allure of his. Heâs tasting you, consuming you, devouring. He just canât help himself. Even when he should be rough, when he should punish you, should teach you a lesson youâll never forget, he cannot.Â
âNgh! S-Sukuna,â you cry out as an orgasm tears through you. âToo much!â
For a moment, his gaze softens. âI know, I know. But you need to be stretched to take both of my cocks. Be patient.â
Blood drains from your face.Â
Thatâs when you start thrashing in his hold, fear taking over you. âNo, no! I canât take both of them.â Theyâre too big. Youâve seen them up close; no one could take them. No human. One would already be asking too much.Â
Both?Â
Itâd be a death sentence.
Sukuna slowly lays you down on top of the altar.Â
Immediately, dark powers curl around your body. Wisps of shadow and smoke threading around your limbs, twirling your hair, brushing your cheek, unravelling your dress and slipping it off your body. They keep you in place.
You feel his energy touching you everywhere â stroking your lips, entering through your nose, sliding down your throat and filling your belly, flicking your nipples before wrapping around the hard bud and tugging, creeping down your stomach to stroke your throbbing clit.Â
They distract you, shushing the cries of protest.Â
âBeautiful,â he whispers as his eyes consume you whole. âSo beautiful. And all mine.â
He touches your cunt, coating his fingers with your essence. Sukuna brings it up in the light between you. Itâs red.Â
Automatically, your legs move to close. The shadows stop you. They yank your legs further apart so he can slot himself between them. His robes have fallen off. A cockhead pokes your clit, smearing its pre-cum onto the pulsing thing. You gasp.Â
When he licks your monthly blood off his fingers, you groan. âStop! Itâs filthy.â
âNo, little bride. Nothing about you is filthy. Not in a way I donât cherish, at least.â
Sukuna brings his wrist up to your lips.Â
âBite me. Hard. Hard enough to bleed. Take your anger out on me. All your hate. Your melancholy. Your grief. Let it all out,â he demands, growling. âI want it. All of it. Every part of you. Give it to me!â
The shadows pry your jaw open. Thatâs it. Itâs them that makes your teeth take hold of his thick wrist and bite down with every force you have in you. Itâs them that make your teeth sink in through all layers.Â
Iron soaks into your tongue, trickling down your throat and warming your chest, like alcohol.Â
He throws his head back, chest heaving.Â
The forest rustles, cheering, trembling with pleasure. Meanwhile, the shadows are vibrating. Thrumming as it plays with your clit incessantly. As it pushes in the little holes of your nipples, pleasuring the fats from inside. You whine.Â
âFuck!â he bellows
Sukuna snatches his wrist from you. His hands grip the marble, veins popping and threatening to burst. Heâs gulping down air and rolling tension off his shoulders.Â
âYou almost came, didnât you?â you ask, smiling in victory.Â
Those red eyes dart up to you. He licks his lips. âYes. Yes, I did.â Sukuna tilts his head, hand wandering up your torso before groping your breast. Like you already know to expect, his curse mouth disappears from his stomach and appears on his palm. It suckles on your nipple, obsessed with trying to find milk where there is none.Â
You moan, back arching.Â
Two hands hold your hips. They tug you down, closer to his hips.Â
âYou expected me to be ashamed of your effect on me?â he wonders aloud, huffing in amusement. âI want you. I crave you. I own you. In the same way you want me, crave me, own me. The only difference is, I embrace it.â
Heâs stroking his top cock leisurely, wringing out droplets you canât tear your eyes from. Lips parting, your mouth begins to long to be filled. Your hips chase after the fat thing. His shadows keep you still.Â
Sukuna continues, rubbing the wrist youâd bitten on your stomach, âI am offering everything I have, everything I am, was and will be. You need only take it. Take me. Use me.â He draws a symbol, a sigil, you donât recognise. With his other hand, he collects the blood between your legs. The bloodied fingers hovers above the mark. âClaim me.â
Thereâs sincerity in his eyes, which seem to plead with you.Â
Inside, a pull reaches for him. Desperate. Intent. Hysterical. It calls for him, pained. He calls back, even more so.Â
You can tell, whatever you feel for him, he feels it tenfold. No, infinitely more intense. It must drive him mad. The fraction of what you feel has you wanting to keel over, to rip your skin off and wear his. How he can function, can keep his head on straight, baffles you.
Heâs commendable. A true leader. An unholy king.
Thatâs why, when he utters a final syllable, you cannot resist the pull any longer:
âPlease.â
âYes!â you wail. âI do! I do! I claim you. All of you.â
Arms flailing, you scramble towards him. Like a leech, you attach yourself to him, to his lips. You sloppily kiss him, smearing the blood and dirt on your body all over his. Fire burns beneath your skin. Youâre set ablaze. Your soul. Your heart. Your skin. Every part is touched by him. Caressed. Treasured.
Sukuna releases a relieved breath, as though heâd been put out of his misery.Â
He holds you to him. He wonât drop you. You know it. You know it so deeply, it is like knowing your name.Â
The forest roars. Branches thrash. Leaves fall in spirals around you, a wall shielding you from the rest of the world. Thereâs no going back anymore. Youâve given in. Youâve surrendered.Â
Two hot things begin pushing inside.Â
For a moment, you tense, anticipating pain. None come. Only delirious bliss. Drool drips down your chin. Your eyes roll back.Â
The shadows havenât stopped stimulating you outside and inside. Youâve been cumming over and over again. Little orgasms that make your limbs shaky. But the orgasm that hits you the moment both of his cock stretch your gummy walls?
World ending.Â
Tantalizing.
Immense.Â
Boundless.
The most glorious gift.
You scream.Â
âYes, thatâs it,â he coaxes. âPerfect. So perfect. My wife. Mine now and forevermore.â
Soon, he bottoms out. Hips flushed. Torsos pressed together tightly. Not a single thing could get in between you. You feel every inch of him. Every ridge. Every vein. Every nudge of his fat cockheads competing to draw out your pleasure most.Â
You thought itâd feel overwhelming. Too much too soon. Now, you canât get enough. You think, if only one cock had entered you, you would have mewled and whined for the other to join. Â
âSee?â Sukuna whispers into your ear, teeth scraping the shell. âYou took me so well. Such a well-behaved girl. You were -hah- made for me.â
In spite of his teasing words, his whole body is trembling with the fight not to cum too soon. Your constant clenching, fluttering around both of his cocks, the way you choke him right to the base, has him at the very edge of sanity, which you doubt he had to begin with.Â
Heâs ploughing his cocks inside you.Â
Thrusting with vigour that you feel at your fingertips. Your toes curl, back arching and head thrown back. Sukuna sucks at your neck, obsessed with the intensity of your scent there.Â
Heâs like an animal let loose. Heâs rutting into you so fiercely you fear heâd break your bones. But your king would never hurt you. Not in a way you wouldnât like.
A crazed laugh echoes in the night.Â
You rake your fingers through his hair. Then you yank his head back, as he had done to you. âMore, Sukuna. Fuck me more. I want to cum on your cocks over and over again. I command it, husband.â
Both lengths throb inside you.Â
Sukunaâs eyes cross. Theyâre glazed over. âYes,â he mumbles without even realising it, thoroughly enthralled in your very being, âwhatever you want, my beautiful, precious wife.â
Hours must pass.Â
Hours of fucking you in the air, on the altar, on the ground, against a tree.Â
His hands explore your body till heâs memorised the curves and the planes. You do the same.Â
The squelching of your cunt, the slapping of skin, the mingling of blood with cum, the reverberating of groans and moans envelopes you in a hellish cocoon. The bullying of his cocks through your sore, sensitive walls, the sucking of his curse mouth on your tits, the devouring of his mouth to yours, the fwop fwop fwop! of his balls on your poor clit â all of it sends you over the edge again and again and again and again, even once you think you will never feel better than the last.
You cannot get enough of him.
And he cannot get enough of you.Â
Sukuna whimpers your name out before and after every peak he reaches. He fills your belly up with his cum. It perpetually drips out of you. You can taste the salt on your tongue. It coats you from head to toe.Â
âMy wife,â he exhales, like announcing to the world. âMy lifeâŠmy love.â
Where he ends and you begin blur.
Time ceases to exist. The rest of the world vanishes.Â
In this moment, in his arms, bouncing on his cock as he gazes upon every flicker of pain and pleasure on your face, only you two matter.Â
.
.
.
The sun has started to rise.Â
You watch it climbing over the hill, head laid out on Sukunaâs chest. He plays with your hair, twirling it absentmindedly. Youâre both naked. Limbs thrown over each other. Tangled.
Juices and blood have dried over your skin. Some of it your own. Some of it his.Â
A deep satisfaction courses through your veins.Â
Sukunaâs chest rises and falls beneath your cheek.
There is something almost surreal about it â this stillness, this calm. The same body that had hunted you through the dark now lies beneath you like an anchor, solid and unyielding in a different way. The heat of him seeps into your skin, bleeding into your bones.
His fingers continue their idle path through your hair.
A strand slips loose, caught and wound around his clawed fingertips before being released again.Â
Your body bears the marks of the night: faint bruises bloom beneath your skin, teeth marks darkening where they had once stung, thin scratches tracing your limbs from your flight through the forest. Sukunaâs hands soothe any marks he left on you, not regretful at all. His actions can be likened to basking proudly in the art he made.Â
All the while, youâre tracing the marks you left on him too â the scratches, the bite marks, the bruises he allowed you to give him. You run your fingers down his tattoos, avoiding the mouth on his tongue, which keeps licking you or trying to capture your hand. A very naughty thing indeed.
âSukuna,â you murmur. He grunts. âIâm hungry. Letâs go back home.â
âHow you have any room left in your small belly after drinking so much of my cum, I cannot fathom,â he voices out, curious and concerned. You smack his chest. âYes, dear. I hear you. Let us take a bath in the pool and I will have a servant bring us food. Perhaps a goblin.â
As he stands up, you frown. âA goblin? Why not Uraume?â
Uraumeâs his favourite. His right hand. His shadow. The goblins, on the other hand, he barely tolerates. Youâve seen him kick the poor things out of the way too often. Once or twice, youâve reflexively tried to help them up, but they growl at you. You think they quite like being kicked about. It seems to be an honour to them. Â
Under his breath, as Sukuna stretches his body with a lazy yawn, he says, âUraume is on time out.â
Using his outstretched hand to bring you to your feet, you ask, âWhy? What happened?â
Petulantly, he grumbles, âThe insolent brat took it upon themself to lead that waste of space human I tore to shreds to you. It seems they thought you were a bad influence on me.â
To punctuate his last sentence and emphasise the absurdity of the idea, he grins wolfishly down at you, more specifically at his cum dripping down your thighs. Cheeks heated, you press them together.Â
Itâs hard to believe this evening had been orchestrated by Uraume, but also itâs not a huge leap in logic. Theyâve made their point of view abundantly clear â you just didnât think they would have tried to have you face imminent death crossing through the forest where creatures of the Underworld lurked.Â
âAre youâŠare you going to hurt them?â
Sukuna cocks a brow. âWould you like me too?â
âNo,â you say immediately and sincerely. âBloodâs already been spilled tonight. I donât want to be the reason someone gets hurt again.â
âVery well. Let me know if you change your mind. They sure do get upset if I let someone else cook my meals.â
You giggle.
Then, all the humour dies out of you.Â
Exhaustion has set in your limbs.Â
Whatever energy had overtaken you earlier is gone now.Â
His breath grazes your cheeks, warm against the cold air. One of his thumbs collects a tear right from your lashes. You didnât even know youâre tearing up. He brings the droplet to his lips and licks it away. You hold your breath as he mutters, âWatching you run from me, hand in hand with some other man, hurts less than seeing you cry for him. It makes me wish I had made him suffer more before his end.â
âIâm not crying for him.â
Sukunaâs crimson eyes flit to you.Â
âOh?â
Sudden sobs escape your lips. Your knees give out beneath you. He catches you, lifting you up in his arms. He always does. You bury your face in his neck. Sukuna rubs soothing circles on your back, cooing. âMy ferocious, little wifeâŠwhat is wrong? Did I hurt you too much? Do youâŠdo you regret marrying me?â
The insecurity in his voice, the hesitation to ask, to hear a truth he would be distraught to hear, make you cry harder.Â
âPlease donât ever throw me away. I know I shouldnât have left last night, but I really thought you were going to kill me. And maybe you will later. But please donât,â you plead through your tears. âI want to be with you forever and ever.â
Silence passes.Â
A pregnant pause.
He laughs.Â
He actually laughs.Â
Itâs full bodied. His stomach mouth joins in. âHilarious! You never fail to entertain me with your constant overthinking. Always so afraid. So on guard. Too precious! You are just too adorable. You will rot my teeth.â
Weakly, you lay a barrage of punches on his chest. âDonât laugh at me, you brute. Iâm your wife. Respect me.â
Sukuna nods patronisingly, but he does shift his laughter into light chuckles, âAlright, alright. Forgive me, little wife. You are simply so delightful, so naive, and pitiful, I cannot help myself.âÂ
âPut me down.â
âNever.â Sukuna presses a kiss to your cheek. He nudges your face away from his neck so you will meet his gaze. Seriously now, voice with his sacred vow, âI have no intention of throwing you away. Not since I laid eyes on you and felt a thing I did not know existed beat in my chest.â
Holding your breath, you listen to his confession.Â
âThere is no world,â he continues, quieter now, though the weight of it presses heavier, âin which I allow you to slip from my grasp. Not heaven, not earth, not whatever fragile afterlife your kind clings to. If you are taken from me, I will unmake it. If you are hidden, I will find you. If you are reborn, I will recognise you.â
Shyly, you ask, âEven if I have a different face?â
Sukuna nods. âIn whatever form, whatever shape, whatever state, you are. Wherever, whenever, you find yourself in. I will recognise you by your soul. For yours make up my own.â
He leaves a kiss to your forehead, to each of your eyes, to the tip of your nose. You giggle.
Then, huffing in amusement, he adds, âIt certainly helps that we are bound by curse marriage. Not by your flimsy, human paper. But by blood. We curses take blood bonds very seriously. If we are to part, for whatever reason, we would both die, so it is in your best interest not to throw me away.â
That should startle you. Should scare you beyond belief. Instead, you think itâs the most romantic thing youâve ever heard.Â
âIâm holding you to that,â you mutter against his lips.
Sukuna nuzzles your nose with his, a smile mirroring yours.Â