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You just sat there in your oversized, faded blue hospital gown, looking small and fragile as your confused gaze met his. The man froze, roughly brushing a strand of pink hair out of his face. His clothes were covered in a layer of grey dust and dried grit, looking as though he had sprinted straight off a construction site the second he got the news.

"Fucking... God. Hey, princess... fuck, don't you ever scare me like that again" he breathed, his deep, gravelly voice cracking as he took two massive strides toward your bedside, staring down at you with a desperation that made the air feel heavy.

You shrank back into the pillows, your brow furrowing. Princess? Were you in some bizarre historical simulation? Did kings and horses still exist? No, the blinking medical monitors around you disproved that immediately.

"Mr. Sukuna, please. I need to speak with you in private for a moment" a woman in her mid forties interrupted, her expression incredibly grave as she stepped between you and the huge man. She glanced at the other people lingering by the door. There was a teenage boy, maybe sixteen, who had the exact same pink hair as the tattooed man, his face streaked with tears. Beside him stood another boy with unruly, spiky black hair and a dull, stoic expression that couldn't quite hide the anxiety in his eyes. At the doctor's quiet command, they all slowly filed out into the hallway.

Left alone for a moment, you stared at the stark white walls, the untouched glass of water on the bedside table, and the crushing, dull monotony of the room.

When the door clicked open again, the female physician returned, holding a thick medical chart. The tattooed man followed closely behind her. He tried to offer you a small, reassuring smile, but it looked incredibly strained on his rugged face. His crimson eyes locked onto you, tracking every breath you took as if you might literally vanish into thin air if he dared to look away for a single second.

"Hello, y/n. I am Dr. Jennifer" the woman said kindly, stepping up to the mattress. "Do you know why you were brought here today?"

You frowned, looking between her and the towering man. "No."

The syllable was short and hollow. Beside the doctor, Sukuna’s entire frame stiffened. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle feathered violently beneath his tattoos, his knuckles turning white as he balled his hands into fists.

"Right. But you do remember your name?" she pressed gently.

"Yes... y/n I am Y/N." you answered firmly. You knew the name belonged to you, even if the history attached to it was completely gone.

"And do you know where you are right now?"

"A hospital?"

"Correct" Dr. Jennifer nodded, opening the document in her hands. "Look, I am going to explain exactly what happened, and I need you to listen very carefully, alright?" You gave a small, hesitant nod. "You were in a severe accident yesterday evening. You were walking home from the local market when a car veered off the road and hit you. It is a miracle you walked away with minor physical injuries, but the trauma to your head has caused a severe case of retrograde amnesia. Honestly, it's a surprise you even remember your name right now."

You let out a quiet hum, your eyes drifting down to your own hands resting on the thin blanket. That was when you noticed it a slender, platinum band set with a brilliant, flawlessly cut diamond resting securely on your left ring finger. It looked incredibly expensive, classy, and entirely foreign

So you were married.

"Y/n" Dr. Jennifer’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. You snapped your head up to look at her. "This man standing beside me... he is your husband."

The doctor tilted her head toward the giant. He was massive easily over six feet of raw, intimidating muscle, his tattooed face giving him a terrifying, dangerous aura. Your very first instinctual thought was that this man looked incredibly scary.

Sukuna didn't say a word. He just stood there, letting you analyze him, before he offered you a tiny, incredibly vulnerable nod. You tilted your head, staring into his intense red eyes, desperately searching for a single spark of familiarity. Did I really marry this giant?

"His name is Ryomen Sukuna, and he is going to take care of you" the doctor continued, closing her chart. "For the next few weeks, you need to let your brain rest, but you also need to gently stimulate it to try and regain those lost memories. Spending time in a familiar environment, in your own home with your husband, is going to be the best medicine for you."

You nodded mutely. You didn't exactly have a choice. You were being handed over to a complete stranger who happened to hold a legal claim to your entire life.

"Alright then. I wish you a safe and speedy recovery" Dr. Jennifer said with a final, empathetic smile before slipping out of the room.

The heavy silence that followed was suffocating. Sukuna cleared his throat roughly, taking a few slow, tentative steps toward the edge of your bed. He moved with an immense amount of caution, as if he genuinely believed a sudden movement might break you into pieces. He pulled up the small plastic chair, sinking into it.

"Hey" he said softly. Even in a whisper, his voice was incredibly manly, deep, and rough.

"Hello" you replied shortly, your eyes tracking his hands.

To your surprise, his large, scarred fingers were trembling slightly as he fidgeted with them, refusing to meet your eyes. When he finally looked up, you realized the piercing red of his irises was completely glossy, swimming with unshed tears.

"Yo... you're getting discharged today" he choked out, taking a deep, ragged breath as if the mere act of speaking was causing him physical pain. "I'm going to go sign the paperwork, and then I'm taking you to... our house. I'm going to do whatever the fuck it takes to help you remember, princess."

You stared at his rugged, tattooed face for a long moment before letting out a soft, distant hum.

An hour later, you were sitting in the passenger seat of a sleek, black Jeep, The man Sukuna kept his left hand firmly on the steering wheel while his eyes flicked toward you every sixty seconds, his intense gaze making a nervous flutter erupt in your stomach.

You stared out the window, watching the city buildings, sprawling neighborhoods, and vibrant green trees blur past. Intrigued by the warm breeze, you raised your hand, pressing your palm gently against the glass as if you wanted to touch the passing leaves. Instantly, the window smoothly rolled down. Startled, you turned your head to find Sukuna adjusting the master controls, his eyes locked onto you with an unreadable warmth.

"Can I ask you something-" you murmured softly.

"Yes." The answer came incredibly fast, almost desperate. He was hanging on your every word, practically begging for you to speak to him.

"How... how did we meet?" you asked, leaning your elbow on the door frame as the wind whipped through your hair.

"We met in high school" he answered quickly, navigating a sharp turn onto a quiet, "We've been married for seven years."

"High school?" You tilted your head, a faint smile touching your lips as you extended your hand just slightly out into the rushing air. "Were we friends back then?"

"Careful" he commanded firmly, though there was no real heat in his voice. You obediently pulled your hand back inside. A faint, nostalgic softness crept into his red eyes as he looked ahead. "Friends? no. You could say we didn't liked eachother each other when we first met. You thought I was a loud, arrogant mannerless jerk and I thought you were a stubborn, bossy brat."

He smoothly pulled the Jeep into a long brick driveway, coming to a stop in front of a breathtaking, modern two story house. It was painted a crisp, elegant white with sleek charcoal-grey accents, boasting massive, floor to ceiling windows that caught the afternoon sun.

"This is...our house" Sukuna murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "We've been living here for about four years."

He killed the engine, threw his door open, and practically sprinted around the hood of the car to open your door before you could even reach for the handle. He extended a massive, tattooed hand toward you, his palm open and waiting. You stared at his hand, your eyes traveling up the thick muscles of his forearm, before you deliberately stepped down onto the driveway without taking it.

Sukuna’s hand froze in mid-air. You watched his fingers slowly curl back into a fist before he pulled his arm away, a flash of pure, agonizing heartbreak crossing his features before he quickly masked it with a stoic expression.

As your feet hit the pavement, you looked up at the towering structure, desperately begging your brain to spark even a single ounce of familiarity. Nothing came. But as you turned around, you caught a glimpse of the man standing beside you. He was on the absolute verge of tears. His chest was tight, his jaw locked as he stared at you. You were his entire world, his beautiful wife, and yet you were looking at him like he was a total stranger. He suddenly felt a wave of profound hatred for every single time he had ever been mean or stubborn with you in the past, even in jest. He just wanted his girl back. His sweet innocent girl.

"The house is beautiful" you murmured gently, walking toward the porch.

'The house.' Not our house. The detached wording made Sukuna’s jaw clench painfully.

"Of course it is. I built the damn thing" he muttered, following closely behind you.

It was your exact dream house. Years ago, back when you were just broke college students dating in a cramped apartment, you had traced a clumsy design on a napkin, telling him you wanted a modern white house with endless windows, three bedrooms, and a kitchen large enough for the two of you to bake and slow-dance together while listening to old jazz records. Sukuna had kept that napkin. The moment he made his fortune, he hired a crew but did the vast majority of the heavy structural work with his own two hands. He had gifted you the keys on your third wedding anniversary, and he could still vividly remember the way you had wept tears of joy, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him until you were both breathless. He wanted that smile back. He would give anything just to have you look at him the way you used to.

You stepped inside, ignoring the heavy emotion rolling off him. Sukuna quickly gathered your small hospital bags and followed you into the foyer, shutting the door behind him.

Your eyes immediately gravitated toward the kitchen. It was vast, open, and undeniably stunning, featuring a massive quartz island and a huge sliding glass door that opened directly into a manicured backyard garden. The entire layout felt strangely perfect.

"Let me show you... around" Sukuna offered quietly.

He spent the next half hour guiding you through the corridors of what was supposed to be your life. But as he showed you the grand master bedroompointing out the side of the bed where you used to curl into his chest every single night your face remained entirely blank. You felt a twinge of heavy guilt pooling in your stomach. He showed you the living room, drawing your attention to a collection of large, breathtaking canvas paintings hanging on the walls.

"You painted those" Sukuna noted, a faint trace of pride in his rough voice. "You're a brilliant artist, princess."

You blinked in genuine surprise, looking down at your hands. "I drew these?" You were suprised, you don't even remember touching a brush in your life. But this is your new life. New start.

"Yeah." Sukuna stopped at the edge of the hallway, looking down at you with completely bloodshot eyes. He hadn't slept a single second since the hospital called him about your accident. All he wanted to do was wrap his massive arms around your waist, pull you flush against his chest, and bury his face in your hair until the nightmare ended. But he couldn't. "Look... you can sleep in the guest bedroom down the hall, or you can take our bedroom and I'll stay in the guest room. Whatever makes you feel comfortable. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable you."

"Okay" you hummed softly.

His heart broke a little more at the compliant, distant tone. "I'll go start on some dinner, and then I'll get your medication ready. If you need a single damn thing, you just call out for me, alright? Your clothes are all in the dresser, undergarments in the top drawer, pajamas in the second..."

You nodded, offering him a polite murmur of thanks before retreating into the guest room. You changed into a simple, comfortable t-shirt and sweats. A little while later, his deep voice echoed up the stairs, announcing that dinner was ready. You walked down to the dining room, sitting at the large table like a polite houseguest waiting to be served.

"Do you need help?" Sukuna asked, carefully sliding a steaming bowl of homemade chicken soup and a large spoon toward you. You shook your head, grasping the utensil and taking a quiet sip. He sat across from you, his own bowl entirely untouched as he just stared at your face. "Y/n... you really don't remember a single damn thing about me?"

His voice cracked completely on the last word, the raw vulnerability of a ruthless man exposed right in front of you. You looked up, meeting his glossy red eyes.

"No... I don't. I'm really sorry" you whispered genuinely.

He let out a slow nod, swallowing the lump in his throat as he forced himself to look away. "Don't apologize. It's not your fault."

"Do I... do I have parents? Or friends?" you asked, a sudden curiosity about your own forgotten life bubbling up.

"Yeah. You have parents. Your father—"

"Where are they?" you interrupted quickly, leaning forward. "Do they know I was in an accident? Why aren't they here?"

"They haven't spoken to you in over seven years. Not since the day you married me" Sukuna said, his tone dropping into something cold and bitter.

"Why?"

"Your family is rich as fuck. Extremely strict, arrogant aristocrats" Sukuna explained, his red eyes locking back onto yours. "They completely forbade you from seeing me because I was just a rough, tattooed bastard from the wrong side of the tracks with a criminal record and a unstable future. They told you that if you walked out that door with me, you’d be cut off permanently."

You stared at him, a sudden spark of heat flaring in your chest. "Well, that's so stupid of them. It sounds like a good thing we don't talk to them then."

The sheer, unyielding loyalty in your voice made Sukuna’s lips twitch, a genuine, heartbreaking smile threatening to break through his stoic mask. Even with a wiped memory, his sweet wife still possessed that exact same fiery, protective spirit.

"Yeah" he chuckled hoarsely, letting out a long sigh. "You have an incredible best friend named Shoko. You two are both doctors. you work in the exact same surgical unit at the city hospital. We have a ton of mutual friends we met back in our high school days. And those kids at the hospital? The pink-haired teenager is my nephew, Yuji, and the dark-haired one is Megumi, our friend's kid. They practically worship the ground you walk on, princess. You love those brats to death."

"Can I see them?" you asked, a genuine smile finally breaking across your face.

"Of course. Whenever you want." he promised, his eyes tracking the way your lips curved.

"How old are you, anyway?"

"I'm thirty two. You're thirty" Sukuna answered smoothly.

"Wow. So we're getting old," you teased gently.

Sukuna let out a sudden, rough snort, a wicked glint flashing in his eyes. "Old or not, woman... you're still completely breathtaking."

A deep, violent blush instantly stained your cheeks. You hadn't been around an attractive man or any man, for that matter in your conscious memory, and having this giant, dangerously handsome individual throw such a raw compliment at you made your heart do a chaotic somersault. You quickly looked down at your soup, missing the way his eyes softened at your reaction.

Over the next three weeks, the fragments of a life began to surround you, even if the puzzle pieces wouldn't quite lock into place.

Yuji and Megumi came over to the house constantly. Yuji spent hours enthusiastically teaching you how to make his signature protein shakes and weird jello molds, his loud laughter filling the quiet house, while Megumi sat nearby with his usual serious expression. But the moment you offered Megumi a soft, encouraging smile, his sharp features would instantly melt into something deeply tender. Yet, beneath their smiles, you could see the underlying sadness in their eyes every time you failed to remember a shared inside joke.

When Shoko finally visited, she broke down completely, throwing her arms around your neck and sobbing into your shoulder. It was a bizarre maybe stupid too, overwhelming feeling being fiercely loved by people you couldn't even remember and a heavy weight of guilt began to settle deep in your chest. You even met Toji, Megumi's father, a tall, stoic man who didn't say much but looked at you with a quiet, profound pity that made you realize just how broken your situation truly was.

And then, there was Sukuna.

Your husband spent every single day patiently guiding you through your routines, driving you past your old university, cooking your favorite meals, and trying every gentle trigger possible. But your mind remained a stubborn, locked vault. Sukuna was growing desperate furious and completely fucked up by the stagnation.

To make matters worse, just one week before the accident, you had playfully taken down every single one of your framed marriage photographs to rearrange the living room gallery wall, hiding them away in a "genius spot" that Sukuna had completely forgotten more like you didn't even told him. He had spent hours frantically tearing the house apart while you were out, searching for a single modern photo of the two of you together.

He was completely unraveling. He couldn't sleep. The woman he loved was sleeping in the room next to him, yet she looked at him with the polite, distant eyes of a stranger. He felt like a ghost haunting his own home. One evening, he sat alone in the dark kitchen and wept the third time he had ever cried in his entire life. The first had been tears of pure joy on your wedding day when he saw you walking the aisle. the second had been out of terror when the ER doctor told him a car had struck you. and now, he was crying simply because he missed his wife so damn much

His phone offered no help either. his gallery was filled entirely with candid photos he had taken of you you stepping out of the shower with a towel wrapped around your head, you laughing in a department store dressing room, or a hilarious picture of you biting into a raw lemon and making a completely disgusted face. He had no photos of the two of you together on his device, you had always been the one insisted on keeping the physical, printed albums. The only joint photos he could find were a few faded, wrinkled prints from your high school days, showing a younger, wilder version of himself wrapping his arms around you from behind while you laughed into the camera. When he showed them to you, you just stared at them blankly. It was killing him.

At the end of the third week, Sukuna was sitting heavily on the living room sofa, completely exhausted after another failed search through the house. He was mindlessly scrolling through the candid photos of you on his phone, a faint, melancholy smile touching his lips. His fingers traced your face on the photo, your bright smile. your bubbly laughter at his most unfunniset jokes, now all of that are vanished.

The heavy front door clicked open. Shoko had taken you out for an afternoon of shopping to get you out of the house, and she had just dropped you off at the curb. You stepped into the foyer, balancing several shopping bags in your arms.

Sukuna instantly locked his phone, shoving it into his pocket as he stood up, his red eyes drinking in the sight of you. "Had fun, princess?"

"Yes, I did. And thank you... for letting me use your credit card" you said softly, walking over to the coffee table and gently sliding the black card back toward him.

"You bought dresses?" he asked, pointing toward the bags. Honestly, he didn't give a single fuck about the money. you could have emptied his entire bank account and he would have gladly signed it away just to see you happy.

"I bought a few things..." You cleared your throat nervously, your fingers twisting together. "But... I actually bought something for you, too."

The words hit his chest like a physical blow. Even with her mind completely wiped, your beautiful, kind soul was still looking out for him. "Really?" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Can I see it?"

You gave a small nod, walking over to the couch and tentatively sitting down right next to him. The close proximity made his heart start to hammer against his ribs like a trapped bird.

"I don't know if it's really your style, or if you'll even like it..." you mumbled bashfully, reaching into a small velvet pouch and pulling out a heavy, intricately braided silver bracelet studded with raw, brilliant red stones. "The color... it just immediately reminded me of you. Of your eyes."

You gently reached out, grasping his massive, calloused wrist to drape the metal over his skin. Oh God, if you only knew how fast his heart was racing beneath his chest. Your soft, warm fingers lingering against his pulse point was pure, exquisite torture.

"It looks incredible, Y/n. Thank you." he whispered, a genuine, breathtakingly soft smile spreading across his tattooed face as he looked down at the crimson stones.

"Thank you... for being so incredibly patient with me" you said quietly, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Sukuna let out a long, ragged sigh, his hand hovering over yours for a fraction of a second before he pulled back. "I will always be patient with you, princess. Always."

You looked directly into his burning red eyes, and for the first time in three weeks, a warm, genuine smile broke across your face. Sukuna felt his breath hitch. he was entirely certain he was about to pass out from the sheer weight of his love for you.

"Can you stay right here for a bit? I need to go jump in the shower real quick. I'll be fast" he muttered hoarsely, his hand instinctively reaching out to gently ruffle your hair a comforting, domestic habit he had carefully maintained. You let out a soft chuckle at the gesture.

The moment his heavy footsteps disappeared up the stairs and the sound of running water echoed through the pipes, you stood up, wandering aimlessly around the quiet main floor. Your feet pulled you toward the small, cozy library nestled just off the living room. The walls were lined with hundreds of books some ancient leather volumes, others modern art textbooks. You pulled one off the shelf, flipping through the pages before sliding it back into place.

As you stepped back, your eyes caught a glimpse of something hidden on the absolute highest shelf, shoved far back into the shadows near the ceiling. It looked like a massive, heavy frame leaning flat against the back wall, obscured by a decorative ceramic vase. Intrigued, you stood on your tiptoes, stretching your arms up as high as they could go, blindly reaching for the top edge of the wooden frame.

Your fingers caught the molding, but as you pulled, the heavy ceramic vase shifted, losing its balance.

Crash!

The vase shattered against the hardwood floor with a deafening, echoing smash. Startled, you let out a sharp cry, stumbling backward as the massive hidden frame came tumbling down from the top shelf, striking the edge of the desk before landing flat on the rug. The backing of the frame split completely open upon impact, and a massive cascade of loose, glossy photographs erupted across the floor hundreds of them, scattering like playing cards across the room.

You gasped, placing a hand over your racing heart as you looked away from the broken pottery, your eyes drifting down to the sea of images covering the floor.

You froze.

Right at your feet lay a massive, professionally printed portrait. In the photograph, you were sitting securely on Sukuna's lap. You were wearing a breathtaking, flowing white lace wedding dress, holding a vibrant bouquet of sunflowers, and laughing so brightly your eyes were crinkled shut. Sukuna was clad in a sharp, tailored black tuxedo, his massive arms wrapped fiercely around your waist from behind, an absolutely massive, unbothered, triumphant grin plastered across his face.

Your breath hitched violently. You stumbled forward, falling to your knees as your hands frantically snatched up another photo from the pile. In this one, you were hoisted high up on Sukuna's broad shoulders at a crowded, flashing outdoor music festival; your mouth was wide open in a breathless scream of laughter, while his large hands were clamped firmly around your thighs to keep you safe, both of your faces painted with pure, unadulterated euphoria.

You grabbed a third photo, and the entire world stopped spinning. It was a quiet, intimate shot taken right in the backyard garden outside. You were sitting cross-legged on the green grass, wearing a simple summer dress with a soft, shy smile, while Sukuna’s heavy head was resting completely in your lap. He was looking up at you with an expression of such pure, unconditional adoration it made your soul ache, while your fingers were woven gently through his soft pink hair.

Pink hair.

The backyard.

The jazz music.

The napkin.

A sudden, violent explosion of memories ripped through the barriers of your mind. It wasn't a trickle; it was a catastrophic, roaring tidal wave. Seven years of laughter, fierce arguments, passionate late-night apologies, the smell of his skin, the exact weight of his body pressing you into the master mattress, the sound of his deep voice whispering "I've got you, princess" into the dark. It all hit your brain at once with the force of a freight train.

The sheer, overwhelming velocity of the memories made the room spin violently. Your vision blurred into a vortex of white light and crimson eyes. You let out a choked gasp, your strength entirely giving out as your body collapsed sideways onto the hardwood floor with a loud, heavy thud, the scattered photographs of your life pooling around your unconscious form.

When you finally opened your eyes again, the harsh glare of the ceiling lights was gone, replaced by the warm, dim ambiance of the living room. You were laying flat on the soft fabric of the sofa.

"She's waking up! Sukuna, look, her eyes are moving!" Yuji’s panicked, loud voice cut through the quiet room.

You blinked heavily, your vision slowly focusing. Megumi was standing right beside his cousin, his dark eyes wide and completely swimming with anxiety. Shoko was hovering over you, a small medical flashlight in her hand, her face pale as she checked your vitals.

But your heart didn't care about any of them. Your eyes frantically scanned the tight circle of people, instantly landing on the massive, tattooed man standing frozen at the foot of the couch. His pastel pink hair was damp from the shower, his chest heaving under a plain black t-shirt, and his face was a mask of pure, absolute terror.

As your eyes met his, a single, heavy tear spilled over your eyelid, tracing a hot path down your cheek. The vast, terrifying void in your mind was completely gone, replaced by the roaring, beautiful fire of your reality.

"Ryo..." you choked out, your voice a broken, breathless sob.

Sukuna froze, his entire frame visibly violently shuddering at the sound of the nickname the private, intimate name only you were ever allowed to call him.

Before anyone else could even blink, you threw yourself forward off the sofa cushions, completely ignoring the dull ache in your muscles. You lunged straight into his space, your arms wrapping fiercely around his massive neck. You buried your face in the crook of his collarbone, gripping the fabric of his shirt with a desperate, white-knuckled intensity as you pressed a hard, crying kiss directly against his tattooed jaw.

"I remember... us" you sobbed violently into his skin, your entire body trembling as the tears flowed freely. "I remember everything, Ryo... I remember you."

Sukuna’s mind completely blanked. For a single, breathless second, he couldn't even process the words. And then, a raw, ragged sound escaped his throat a mixture of a sob and a laugh. His massive, powerful arms came crashing down around your frame, pulling you so close against his chest you could barely breathe, lifting your knees entirely off the floor as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

And there, in the middle of his living room, surrounded by his family and the scattered photographs of your love, Ryomen Sukuna closed his eyes and wept for the fourth time in his life.

"I fucking love you" he whispers

“You could take me with you,” you hummed, giving him your best set of pleading eyes as he felt the once shriveled organ he called a heart squeeze at how sincere you looked. 

“I-” 

“Shouldn’t I be there anyway if it’s about our wedding?” You insisted, and despite his reservations, the only thing he was weak to was you. 

So he dragged his finger over the ribbon, slicing through it and the thick fabric easily as he cleanly cut each and every restraint keeping you tied to his bed. 

You had requested your own chambers when he first abducted brought you here, but these days, you rarely even stepped foot in them when you’d taken to staying up sleeping in his sheets. He liked your little scowl when you peeled off the now torn dress from your body, getting out of bed and rubbing your wrists with a haughty huff befitting your status. 

His future queen. 

“Happy?” He grumbled, shoulders rolling back as his greedy eyes dragged over the shape of your breasts, mouth watering enough he had to swallow his own spit. 

“No,” you sharply scoffed, striding over to your now-shared closet as you swiped through the selection of outfits he had made for you. “That was my last pink dress from home.” 

“I think these suit you much better,” he dryly replied, having to keep himself from snarling at your disdain for the clothes he’d chosen. So what if they showed a little more skin? “But if you wish, I’ll kidnap your dressmaker.”

“Can’t you just hire him?” You asked, giving him that look, like he was somehow testing your patience. 

Personally, he found that most prisoners, or well, workers only did their best after some time in the dungeon. 

But he didn’t mind bickering with you about it. 

Not when it made him almost feel like you were already married. 

“I guess,” he begrudgingly grunted, making a mental note to send a koopa down to find him tomorrow for you. 

Watching you get dressed was nearly as intoxicating as seeing you strip, studying the lines of your body, the way you moved your limbs as you squeezed into the tight outfit he was absolutely correct in assuming would look fantastic on you. Eyes glazing over as he committed and etched the image of you in his head, content to capture you like this in a painting later, frame it and hang it up in his private study as a new permanent fixture. 

Sukuna was not accustomed to compliments. 

But he found himself awkwardly clearing his throat, reaching out for you right as you glanced over your shoulder at him. 

“My bride is beautiful,” he muttered, his voice coming out all low and gravelly as heat creeped up his neck and threatened to color his cheeks in an obvious blush. 

Forcing himself to look back at the barred windows, biting the inside of his mouth until it drew blood. The thick taste of iron on his tongue as a delicate digit tapped his much larger hand. 

“Thank you,” you softly said, tempering your tone as you laced your fingers through his. “Shall we go?” 

He wasn’t stupid enough to assume you truly loved him back. Not the way he loved you, at least. 

Knew damn well that this could just be some attempt to get his guard lowered enough for you to escape. 

You might just want to know what their plans were. Where he’d send his troops of koopas to claim the land that used to be yours. Figure out any weak points. 

It didn’t matter. 

He wasn’t going to give you the chance to take advantage of it. No matter how much he might loosen your leash. 

Still, the walk through the air ship was rather peaceful. 

The warmth of your palm pressed against his, your skin brushing against his, those quick glances you’d steal up at him when his shell bumped into you. 

The koopas were already waiting for him there, crowded around the table and chattering before they all froze at the creak of the door swinging open. 

Turning to bow down before him, his ego inflating at their easy obedience while he caught a glimpse of you rolling your eyes to his right. 

“Oh no,” he deadpanned. “It appears there aren’t enough chairs.” 

It would be easy to have a koopa scramble to fetch one for you. But just lazily walked over to his throne and sat back in it, spreading and patting his thighs while you stared at him with an adorable attempt at a stern expression. 

He could picture you presiding over meetings like this back in your own Kingdom, addressing those morons in your dominion as if they even deserved to speak to you at all. 

And now here you were, climbing on his lap in a tiny outfit, looking more like a concubine than a dignified princess. 

“You did this on purpose,” you muttered, not that you actually seemed mad. More like you were pretending to be – acting out a role you knew you were supposed to fill.

“How?” He dryly mocked. “I didn’t know you were coming.” 

Well, sure, perhaps part of him suspected you’d protest being all tied up and ask to tag along. But the chairs were just a coincidence. 

You shuffled on his lap, trying to get comfortable like he couldn’t feel the way you were quivering already. 

That was the part you were horrible at hiding. Because despite that sweet mask you liked to wear of a proper lady, you couldn’t disguise your attraction to him, couldn’t pretend to be distinguished when he’d seen how much you craved his cock every night. Derived a certain degree of pleasure in him ruling over you instead of the other way around. 

“You’re cruel,” you half-whispered, as if he somehow humiliated you when he could smell how horny you were. 

You were cute when you were trying to be strong. 

What would that plumber of yours think of you on his lap like this? 

He supposed he’d take care of that business after the wedding. Once he had bound you to him for good. 

“Lord Sukuna, we received a report from the koopas stationed-” 

He waved it away, shaking his head before he could even finish. 

“We’re discussing the wedding tonight,” he interrupted, running a calloused palm across your waist, feeling the way you shivered at his touch. “Since my bride is here.” 

It would all belong to him soon enough anyway.

Your heart. Your home. 

He’d conquer it all. 

ཐི♡ཋྀ

You hadn’t meant to fall for him. 

He was meant to be the monster in the tale. 

The scary villain that needed to be slain. 

A beast you were supposed to hate by the end of the story. 

You’d grown up with plenty of fairytales. Romances spun about princesses who were saved by brave knights and lived happily ever after. 

You had always thought you would marry a guy who wields a sword instead of spewing fire, someone steadfast and pure hearted. 

Sukuna was stubborn. Strange. Hot-headed with that horrible temper of his, with claws that looked made for slashing rather than clumsily clutching the stems to bouquets you could hardly believe he picked for you. 

You stared at his sleeping figure. The tattoos inked against his tanned skin as his chest slowly rose and fell. 

His mouth parted, the low roar of his snore starting up as you untangled yourself from his heavy limbs. 

The meeting had run far longer than either of you had anticipated, heavy eyelids drooping from exhaustion with you still on his lap. And even when it ended, he just yawned and threw you over his shoulder, carrying you back to your room with one hand while the other rubbed his exhausted eyes. 

He didn’t even try to fuck you. To your disappointment. 

Just plopped you down in bed and joined you there, strong arms wrapping around you before he promptly passed out. 

But no matter how many sheep you counted in your head, or how hard you shut your own eyes, you couldn’t bring yourself to fall asleep.

Your brain was buzzing, hyperaware of his touch, of his breath, a big ball of tension coiling tight in your core as you tried to ignore the familiar ache between your thighs. 

For a guy who kinda kidnapped you, the least he could do was have a smaller dick so you didn’t have to think about how good it felt to be fucked full of him constantly. 

You bit the inside of your cheek, shuffling off the bed slowly, stare still trained on him as you avoided waking him up. 

Usually though, once he was out, he wouldn’t stir until the sun was slipping through the cracks in the porthole he called a window. 

Now, there were only a handful of candles lit to illuminate the dark, your engagement ring glittering in the low light. It was big, and well, a bit gaudy, a ridiculously large pink sapphire glinting in the middle surrounded by small diamonds embedded into a gold band. 

Something that screamed you were taken from a mile away. 

He’d gotten down on one knee, the spiky shell on his back seeming even bulkier when he was all bent down like that, popping open a velvet box to propose to you like you were a normal couple. 

A year ago, you would have scoffed at the idea of him bowing to anyone. Laughed that someone might say yes to him.

But your own affirmation had come a bit too easily for even you to conceal your own crush. 

Could you call it that? 

Shrink your feelings down to something more comfortable to swallow? 

He rolled over, and you froze, throat constricting as you waited for his body to realize you weren’t there and wake him up. 

Instead, he grabbed the pillow, squeezing it tight as his nostrils twitched. Sniffing the scent of you left there before he let out a soft sigh and settled back into dreamland. 

When you watched him like this, all peaceful and pleased, you could almost trick yourself into thinking that this could last forever. 

But your feet were creeping closer to the door, heart thumping rapidly as you tried to quell your troubled mind with reassurances that you wouldn’t get caught. 

This could be the only opportunity you ever got. Your only chance to just leave. 

Your parasol had just been lazily stashed in a storage closet by one of the koopas, so it wouldn’t even be hard to snag it and slip off the ship. 

All you’d really have to do is find the courage to jump and float down. 

Of course, you’d need to hope that you weren’t drifting over anything dangerous. 

But considering you were sharing close quarters with someone as feared as him, who had enough strength to probably split your former plumber in two, you supposed whatever was below couldn’t be much scarier than what you’d be leaving behind. 

Were you scared though? 

Truly? 

Did his pointy teeth hold any terror anymore? When was the last time those sharp claws of his inspired even a sliver of apprehension? 

You had started to see them differently. Him differently. 

Anticipating the next time he’d sink his mouth on your skin and leave love bites. Fantasize about him scraping his claws down your back. Intoxicated by the weight of the restraints he liked to tie you down with. 

Was it fucked up to be horny instead of frightened? 

Yes, but that wasn’t exactly something you wanted to unravel while you were tiptoeing across dim hallways thinking about the logistics of an escape plan. Where would you even run to? 

Find some tropical island to take shelter in and hope none of the ape-ish men there would make things worse? 

You couldn’t just abandon the mushroom kingdom either. 

Leave the land you’d sworn to protect behind for him to seize in your absence. 

If you stayed, you could still rule over them. Ensure their safety – and your own. 

Although, you were sure it was only a matter of time before a certain someone attempted to take you back. 

Gojo seemed to think simply saving you was enough. 

He was always busy with Suguru or racing karts or doing other stupid shit that made you feel more like a second thought than a lover who was special to him. 

Sacred.

You wanted to be worshipped. 

Not strung along or simply sucking it up to see how long you could suffer. 

You were a princess after all. 

What purpose did you have if you weren’t born to be revered? 

Perhaps that was why when you opened the door you stopped in front of, the first thing you saw wasn’t your parasol staring back at you – but your own face. 

A hundred of them. 

Canvasses of different sizes, some hung up on the walls and others lined up against each other, one still on the easel in the center of the room as you stepped on the crinkly plastic tarp laid out and covered in paint splatters on the floor. 

Who said a villain couldn’t have hobbies? 

You hesitated as you gazed at his latest portrait of you, the soft strokes, the delicate touches that seemed incapable of coming from his massive hands. Each one was deliberate. This painting captured you in a candid moment, your head turned to the side as you leaned over the edge of the ship, the sky behind you and the sun on your face. Some of the others featured a…more flattering version of him next to you. 

Ones that made him look more regal.

More like a man instead of a monster by your side. 

Gojo would have scoffed. 

Said it was cheesy or stupid or came up with some other cheap insult to diminish his work. 

But it made your heart stutter. 

Slam faster into your ribcage the longer you stared at yourself. 

This was how he saw you. 

And it was how you wanted to be seen. 

You could blame it on reason. 

Say you had a responsibility or you were just doing what was rational. 

But you simply didn’t want to run away. 

Would it truly be so horrible to marry him? To be his wife and rule two kingdoms instead of one? 

Maybe give him a Sukuna Jr.? 

A loud bang exploded in the distance. 

The sound of wood splintering and faint crashes that seemed to get closer by the second. 

Oh well. 

It seemed your groom-to-be had woken up. 

You didn’t budge though. 

Just folded your arms across your chest as a chill ran down your spine and waited for him to find you – even as his gruff voice barked orders for his koopas to start sweeping over the ship for any sign of you. It didn’t take him too long to find you, the door thrown open so fast it hit the wall behind it and made an awful noise. You stilled, only throwing him a bored look over your shoulder.

“You’re making a racket,” you commented, pretending to be casual as you returned your attention to your own portrait. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He demanded to know, stomping over and grabbing your wrist to spin you around. It was hard to hide the hint of a smirk your lips attempted to curl up into, but you managed, fixing him in your most unamused stare. “You’re trying to fuckin’ run away, aren’t you?” 

You didn’t know whether to deny it or offer the admission that you at least changed your mind.

The feral scowl etched into all his rough features was pretty hot.

“I’m admiring your art,” you murmured softly, wondering how difficult it would be to make him melt for you. 

“Liar,” he accused, thick brows pinched together tightly. “You left me.” 

“How could I leave you if I’m right here?” You pointed out, tilting your head to the side. 

For all his fire, he faltered when you offered him a small smile, his own mouth curving down to form a disgruntled frown. 

“Stop playing dumb,” he hissed, barring his teeth as if it would work on you now. 

“Are you calling me dumb?” You asked, arching a brow up as if you believed he was. 

His free fingers curled into fists he immediately shook out, jaw clenching as his red eyes seared straight through you. 

“I am not-” He stopped himself, maybe realizing he was falling into your trap before angrily shaking his head. “You little-” 

“Little what?” You dared him to actually finish his curse, but he had clamped his lips shut. Pulling you closer to him before unceremoniously scooping you up bridal style, muttering to himself as he stormed back in the direction of your now shared bedroom. 

“Thought that fucking idiot came and stole you,” said the man who stole you first. You had to hold in your snort, keeping your head down as you tried to not let him see you roll your eyes. 

But his intense stare was fixed on you, his nose scrunching up, lips parting in an annoyed scoff. 

“You think this is funny,” he grunted. 

“Is it not?” You asked, tempted to test just how crazy you could drive him. 

“You are-” Sukuna grimaced, biting down on the inside of his own cheek so hard you knew he probably drew blood.

“You’re really having trouble finishing your sentences tonight,” you commented, pushing your luck further. The vein bulging across his forehead ready to burst at your trivial giggle was a cute perk to pissing him off. “Tell me, my king, what exactly were you going to do if I had run away?” 

“Get you back,” he grumbled, as if you somehow could miss the glint in his eyes when you called him your king. 

You wondered how long it would take for him to ask you to say that in bed. 

And got your answer a lot sooner than anticipated. 

The moment you had crossed the threshold, he was ripping the barely-there clothes off of you and pinning you to the bed. 

Bites buried into your skin as he travelled from your stomach up to your breasts, teeth skimming against every available inch of skin until he was sinking the deepest ones into your throat, a low growl rumbling from his chest as you squirmed underneath his heavy weight. 

His tongue dragged over your neck, leaving a lewd line over the sensitive spots he’d just been sucking on until his mouth was positioned right by your ear. 

“Say it again,” he commanded, all husky and hot as your stomach found a way to tie itself in an even tighter knot. 

“Say what?” you played just as dumb as he accused you of, the tension just building on top of itself as his warm breath fanned over your skin, claws sinking into your hips just careful enough to not hurt, but to make you feel the pressure. 

“You know what,” he hissed, too prideful to admit what it was he really wanted.

“You want me to call you my king?” You hummed, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair, softening your voice. 

Sukuna might not say it. But his heavy cock pressed up and throbbing against your thigh surely told you the truth. 

“I want you to mean it,” he murmured, his defined jaw catching the candlelight while you watched the lump in his throat bob. 

You hesitated. 

Considered giving up this charade the two of you had been embroiled in. 

Him dutifully playing your captor while you pretended to be a damsel in distress as if you hadn’t been having sex like partners instead of just lovers.  

He might not know the difference. 

But you did. 

Because even after he came, he didn’t just roll over and conk out. And when you woke up together, he didn’t just abandon you to handle his own affairs. 

He took care of you, fed you only the best foods and offered the best baths, pampered you in luxuries and made sure you wouldn’t want for anything when you were with him. 

What else could a girl ask for? 

So what if he was a little…sharp around the edges? 

You could love him and all his spikes. 

It wasn’t like you were ignoring him, but you’d been so swept up in your own thoughts you were caught off-guard when he abruptly buried his face between your thighs. 

Mercilessly shoving his tongue inside you, diving in without a sliver of reluctance, with a single obvious goal in mind. 

Making you moan what he wished to hear if you wouldn’t just outright say it. 

Swirling his tongue around with the precision of someone who was determined to drag you to an orgasm. The thick muscle working you open ruthlessly, his fingers pressing down and pulling you into his mouth. 

Groaning into your cunt to make your body unhelpfully spasm, giving into those maddening patterns he was painting inside you as those reverberations traveled up through you. 

Resisting felt pointless. 

Holding back was so much harder when the pleasure he was providing was overwriting all your common sense. 

You were tugging hard at his roots, hips arching off the soft surface of the bed to drive him in even deeper. But it simply wasn’t enough. 

He made you just as greedy as him. 

“M-more,” you moaned, swallowing hard as the heat started to get to your bed, the warmth he was radiating making beads of sweat roll down your forehead. 

He pulled out, laughing crudely as he looked up at you with wild eyes. 

“More?” 

Ah. 

Maybe that was a mistake. 

But you couldn’t find an ounce of regret when Sukuna was roughly flipping you over onto your stomach and nudging your thighs further apart with his knee next. Making sure you were properly spread as he climbed back on top of you, trailing the sharp edge of his claw up your spine before grabbing the nape of your neck. 

You couldn’t look back. 

Could barely breathe. 

Stuck there with your face pressed against the smooth blankets as you waited for him to make his move. 

“You want more?” He echoed his previous sentiment, disbelief still ringing in his tone. 

“Do I have to ask again?” You teased, even if your question came out half an octave too high. 

You would. 

But only if he made you. 

“Say it then,” he growled. 

“My king is mean,” you wryly mocked, knowing that he would fuck you harder for it. 

“I’ll show you mean,” he muttered, the swollen tip of his cock pressing right up against your slick entrance as you tensed up. 

You used to think you were smart. 

But considering how soaked you were waiting to have sex with him, you supposed you weren’t half as intelligent as you’d been before. 

And the moment he was sliding in, you were losing even more IQ points you didn’t know if you had to spare. 

Thoughts getting all fuzzy as they faded away to be replaced with mantras of his name, desperation bleeding into each one as you ached to be full. 

He was still gracious enough to ease you into the first thrust, slowly splitting you open on his length before pulling out and doing it again. 

Walls clamping down and straining to get accustomed to all his ridges, to his sheer size. 

But he was bottoming out before you could get your sanity back in check, all your rationality dissolving in a puddle of raw need as he hit a spot that made you jolt. 

“Not running from me now,” Sukuna snarled, pulling your hips back down as he plunged his cock even deeper, grinding it up, up, up for you to practically feel him in your lungs. 

Air squeezing out with each one of his rough thrusts no matter how desperately you tried to quickly suck more back in. 

A snarky piece of you wanted to argue that you hadn’t technically run away at all, but you didn’t think he had any reason left in him either. 

This was just about you and him and fucking until he felt better. 

Until you were both so enmeshed you would never want to leave him again. 

The connection between his cock and your cunt driving you nuts as he drove it in again and again. 

“Being real quiet now,” he taunted, and you just scoffed back at him, unable to form any coherent words to bicker back. 

But before you could try to find him, he was pulling back out right as you were getting edged closer. 

He flipped you over in a second, impatient fingers digging meanly into your thighs as he folded them against your chest. 

Sukuna didn’t have to verbalize it. Mutter a word for you to understand the why. 

He wanted to see your face when he made you cum. 

Cock sheathing itself back inside you as if it was the most natural fit in the world. 

His other hand reached for your throat, big fingers wrapping around it like your own personal necklace as he squeezed just enough to steal some of your air. “You just like punishing me,” you breathlessly moaned, gripping onto his muscled biceps as his thick cock stretched you to the limit, rubbing just right on all those sensitive spots. Contrary to the filthy words he was spewing, he was still fucking you precisely how he knew you liked. 

“You liked being punished,” he retorted, thumb rubbing over your tendon, feeling the faint indents of his teeth he’d left behind. 

Was that what you liked? 

Or was it simply him? 

“What would your plumber do if he saw you like this?” He grunted, gritting his teeth as he fucked you harder, hips smacking into your skin in harsh thwaps. “Panting and begging me for more.” 

“Probably ask to join?” 

Sukuna froze, brows furrowing as he opened his mouth to snarl something nasty before he changed his mind and decided to just fuck that thought out of you instead. 

Letting go of your throat to move his big hand south, his thumb finding your clit to toy with that too. Drawing more practiced circles over the sensitive bud, keeping a steady rhythm of pounding into you as he dragged you towards a cliff. 

You wanted him to throw you off. 

To jump off with you and fill you up. 

The pressure mounting higher, your thighs tensing and toes curling in anticipation as your limbs began trembling. 

You weren’t sure what the last straw was. Whether it was his warmth or his touch or the way his mouth crashed into yours for a messy kiss right as he pressed just right on your clit, but you crumbled. 

Cumming with his name on your tongue, shuddering as the pleasure wracked through you – just for him to pull out midway through, cum leaking out all across your skin. Steady drips falling on top of you as he stroked his shaft, your vision hazy in the corners before you shut your eyes and let go of the tension still lingering in your bones.

“Fuck, you’re so-” He started to groan, his head tilting back to expose the seductive line of his collarbone, the tattoos standing out across his chiseled chest. Your husband-to-be. 

“Perfect?” 

ཐི♡ཋྀ

What good was a wedding without a bride? 

Sukuna touched your hair, unable to wipe the scowl still lingering on his face while he huffed and puffed over your disappearing act a full hour after you fell asleep post-sex. 

He didn’t believe you. 

Even if he wanted to.

You were as clever as you were cute. Crafty. 

There was a chance for you to go. To get as far from him as you could. 

But he found you standing there in your own shrine. 

Unbothered by the commotion and the chaos, just staring at yourself before throwing him that annoyingly attractive glance. 

Were you trying to piss him off? 

Had you simply come to your senses and realized fleeting would be futile? 

He didn’t know. 

And you wouldn’t tell him. 

You were still wearing your ring though. 

It looked rather good – especially when you weren’t wearing anything else. 

Sukuna sighed, chewing his already bitten raw bottom lip as he tasted the iron in his mouth. 

Fingers flexing as he possessively held you tight, unable to loosen his grip in fear you’d just slip away again. 

You had made him a fool. 

And he didn’t think there was any way for him to undo it. 

He didn’t think he made a noise, but you began to stir, sleepily blinking up at him and yawning as you started to pull away, wait no, snuggle closer? 

Nuzzling your nose against his chest as you draped a lazy arm around his side, your scent invading his system and frying all his synapses. 

“Just go to sleep,” you murmured, delicate fingers decisively patting him. “M’not going anywhere.” 

Yeah, not under his watch. 

“got outta the gym late. lost track of time,” he walks two steps to the kitchen pulling out two energy drinks, a protein drink, and a couple protein bars. “fuck,” he cups his crotch, palming himself through his low hanging sweats. he opens his shake. “accidentally swiped on that video ya’ sent me from the summer. I watched the whole thing between my sets.” his hand tips back, throat bopping as he chugs the shake, eyes closing as he sees the video play back in his mind, hand still on his bulge.

you’re leaning against the column between your smaller than small living room and kitchen, eyeing the way he’s shamelessly groping himself in front of you, men. you sigh, internally.

“hey,” he suddenly appears in front of you, towering. his musky scent fills your nose as he cups your neck, the other resting on your hip. he slowly lowers himself, tilting your chin up with a thumb as his lips connect with yours again. “haah,” he sighs, kissing your lips like it’s his saving grace, his sweats hang low on his hips as he presses himself against you. “remember that video?” he husks, “the one with ya’ spreading your legs out for the camera—“

you gently press a hand to his chest again, cheeks flushed, but stomach churning uncomfortably. “ryo—“

“wanna see this pussy,” he doesn’t even hesitate, he drops his head to your neck, kissing the exposed skin before dropping to a knee, hands on your hips. “wanna smell how good she is—“

“ryo,” you press a hand to his forehead, face aflame, as you push him back. your heart hammers as he frowns up at you, jaw tight and hands tightening around your waist. “I got my period yesterday.”

….

a silent beat passes.

then.

FUCK!

sukuna is horrible at controlling his face.

you immediately notice his dilated pupils dissipate, and the excitement die behind his eyes. your lips purse, making a my bad king type of face. but sukuna looks absolutely destroyed, his head drops forward, desperately trying to control his eye roll, but you catch it , along with the way he presses his face into your stomach, and groans. loud. uncontrolled.

“sorry…I forgot to text you, and you came all the way here,” you pat his shoulder apologetically, though you’re not super sympathetic since it’s not your fault.

“ya’ have cramps or some shit?” he grumbles against your sleep shirt.

“had crazy cramps this morning, but just like…not in the mood right now,” you cringe while saying it, but sukuna just sighs.

you bite your cheek as you watch him sit back on his heels. his black sweats straining against his thighs, his bulge shameless as it presses up against the material. your eyes flick over him again, wetting your lip as you reach for his hair. hesitant. but eventually…your manicured nails run through the slightly damp, salmon colored hair. you watch in silent awe as his lashes weigh down, and his jaw tightens like he’s holding himself back. your nails scratch his scalp, lightly, but enough to elect a raw groan from the back of his throat.

you bite your lip, eyeing the dark flush crawling up his neck, and dusting his cheeks a light pink. his large palm rests on your outer thigh and the other flexing as it grips his erection. how far will he—

“not cumming in my fucking sweats,” he suddenly barks, getting to his feet. your hand drops as he walks towards the bathroom, pulling his shirt over his head, he kicks the door shut behind him.

your lips purse again, biting your cheek as you hear the shower turn on. men.

that was how sukuna dealt with his fuck buddy being on her period. somehow always finding out last minute that you’re bleeding, and in no mood for action — except for those very rare occasions, well he can’t divulge too much now since you never want him to mention it again — and he’s forced to take care of his problem in your shower. his rough calloused palm — a contrast from your soft smaller ones — jerks his painfully hard throbbing cock to the images of you floating in his mind until he’s finally shooting his thick white load all over your shower wall. haze clearing up as he watches the cum slide down. and then he’ll step out of the bathroom, usually wearing a pair of sweats he’d forgotten here, along with a plain black tee, and crash on the couch as you do your homework. he’ll eye you a bit, but eventually shift his attention to the tv and knockout.

it would be difficult for those five to seven days, especially when you would be slightly more clipped with him, or just plain bitchy and short tempered (like him). but it’d get him all hot and bothered, especially since he can’t act on it.

that was sukuna’s perception of a woman’s cycle. before he never cared, now he cares just a little more because he can’t have sex with you when you’re on your period.

but as smart as sukuna is, it takes a little more brain power for him to realize what this is.

this being, how he’s wound up because he’s trying to get through this studying for an upcoming exam. he’s far from prepared for and the best way for him to study is to be around someone who takes it seriously— you. and yet…

and yet, you won’t stop moving!

at first you were sitting across from him in the library. then you shift to the seat at corner of the table, and then you move to sit directly beside him.

“you need help?” he suddenly cuts. you’re shifting beside him stops, brows pulled in confusion.

“was just uncomfortable, am i disturbing you?”

his brow twitches, but you were completely innocent. your brow pulled up, like he’s the crazy one, and not you, who’s moved around like ten times in the last hour!!

“just a little,” he mutters, putting his headphones back on and turning back to his work. luckily, you seem to have settled down, attention back on your own studies. engrossed in your review sheets and notes, as sukuna reviews for his own exam.

however, what the fratboy did notice was even when shoko stopped bye to chat, and utahime came to whisper some gossip to you between her class, you didn’t move once. his brow quirked briefly when utahime chatted across the table, and instead of getting up and going to the hallway to talk freely, you remain seated, right beside him, and right against him.

what’s going on?

“I swear I told the girl I didn’t even know who she was talking about it—but she didn’t even care. girl! I wasn’t talking to your ex,” utahime rambles in hushed whispers, similar to the whispered conversations at other tables.

your brows furrow in shock, “what the hell?? why the heck is she even confronting you in the middle of class though? that’s so weird.”

“that’s what I’m sayinggg!!!”

sukuna has every reason to snap at you both right now. to tell you two to shut the fuck up or go outside. seriously, it was distracting as fuck. but his mind was short circuiting and stumbling around all because of how fucking close you are to him.

his arms are leaning over the table, biceps bulging from his tshirt, scribbling practice equations and notes. and you’re leaning over in an identical position, but your side is fully pressed against his arm. your zip up hoodie resting around your hips after you’d shrugged it off, and your usual cold skin was searing hot against his. skin to skin. and it’s been like that for the past twenty minutes.

usually when your friends stop by to ramble you have the curiosity to step away so he can study. but not this time— well you did a similar thing a month ago too. sticking to him like glue. brushing your fingers over the veins of his forearm—

“okay, I’ll update you later, but thanks for letting me borrow your airpods!” utahime concludes her rant with finally returning your airpods and running off to her next class. sukuna lets out an air of relief, relaxing beside you.

finally, some peace and quiet in the library.

…shift…

well, it could only last so long.

his brows furrow as he glances over at you, your cheek is now resting on his arm, mindlessly reading your notes like this is normal. is it because he’s finally anxious about an exam after so long, that he’s noticing how touchy you’re being? or maybe you’re not in the mood to do your work and in the mood for something else—

tch, he doesn’t have time to find some room to fuck you in though. it’s the middle of the day and the library is packed. the last thing you’d want is for someone to see you both. however, he can’t even tell if you want any action right now. it just looks like you’re tired…and clingy…?

sukuna exhales, thumb pressing against his jaw in thought, while you shift again, oblivious to his internal turmoil, cheek smushed against his arm…

“you hungry?” he interrupts, desperate for his mind to quiet down.

“not really,” you mutter, focused on your homework.

his lips downturn, pen tapping the desk, “I’m gonna grab another celsius.” he suddenly stands, startling you for a moment, noticing the way your pretty lashes blink in surprise. you’re definitely just focused on school…but last month you were acting the same-ish…if he’s right, then when he comes back…you’ll…

he places a celsius in front of you, eyes flicking over you as he sips his drink. you hum in distracted appreciation, like you can’t even see him sliding back into his seat, legs spread, and arms coming up back to the table to grab his pen. but like glue, you’re sliding yourself right beside him, pressing your cheek to his shoulder, and taking a subtle inhale.

what the hell?!? it’s like he can predict you’re every move now?!

it didn’t stop there. the puzzle pieces are starting to come together slowly. especially when you subtly kept a grip on his arm muttering how he can finish studying at your place, without the distraction of the frat—which you rarely pressure him to do a night before an exam. except instead of going straight to the bathroom to shower, you followed him to your couch and sat beside him.

“do you mind if I turn on the tv?” you ask with such an unnerving amount of gentleness, glancing at him with your full undivided attention.

his brow quirks, why’re you looking at him like that? “it’s your place, woman.”

you hum, relaxing back, albeit pressed to his side and your knees tucked up, as he leans over on the coffee table (aka your only desk in your small ass apartment) reviewing more work. but just moments later he’s sliding to the floor for more comfortability—

“why’d you move?” your voice cuts through the quiet apartment.

“huh?”

sukuna glances back, brow quirked with confusion at the frown you’re wearing. “leaning over is fucking with my back,” he tsks, earning him an uncharacteristically quick attitude switch from you — your eyes roll, your entire body slumps further back on the couch that you’re basically laying across it, and your cute bottom lip juts out in an irritated, subtle pout. seriously? sukuna scoffs internally. you’re acting like such a brat??? for real this time.

your cheeks press against the cushion. your hypnotizing eyes flick between his, then eventually settle on his lips. they’re slightly chapped, pink…pretty…kissable…

“ya need something?” he snaps without any bite. you’re zoning out again. your eyes drift off, and your lips part lost in thought. “zoning out—“ are the words that you here before you feel an aggressive (light in his mind) flick to your forehead. “again!”

“ow!” you groan loud, face quickly turning and pressing into the cushion in annoyance. “what the hell!” your muffled yell barely comes out.

“what the hell me?” he tsks, rough hand landing on your head, and turning your face back for air. “I was talking and you did that shit again—“

“what thing?!” you scoff, brows pinched in anger as you stare into his eyes….his deep…dark…lidded…crimson eyes…..haah—

“that,” he exhales, hand softening on your temple, and irritation slipping away with your usual antics. “how do you even zone out that fast?”

your glossy lips part, manicured nail brushing your bottom lip, heat pooling between your legs, and eyes half lidded… “was thinking about your eyes.”

the softness of your tone was more shocking than the actual words that came out of your mouth. or it was the combination of both. or the bluntness of your gentle honey sweet voice that took sukuna by surprise…

but he blinked. once. twice—

“first it was your lips,” you whisper with a breathless sigh. your finger carefully reaching out and touching his lips. you mimic the way he parts his lips with your own. his thick brows creating a shadow over his lidded eyes. “then your eyes.” you explain with such clarity, it had sukuna short circuiting as he tries to rationalize why you’re acting this way—

“that’s why i zoned out,” you conclude, shifting closer to the edge of the couch, closer to him. your eyes dot up at him, brushing his bottom lip, pulling it down with a thumb. “you distract me sometimes.” you’re tired…it was a long day of classes and it was the middle of the week. that has to be the reason, sukuna thinks.

by now, he knows that look.

you wanna fuck.

“Mmm,” you whine the moment he presses his lips to yours. your tongue immediately finding his as your nails course through his hair. tugging. “make me cum, ryo.”

he snorts in your mouth, rough hand pushing your shirt up, thumbing your bra before hooking his thumb under and lifting up. “should’ve just told me ya want your pussy wet—“

“it’s already wet,” you cut, “been wet all day.”

shiit, he groans into your lips, pushing his hand down, past your waistband. “fucking slut.” a breathy gasp slips out as he cups your wet sticky pussy. “fucking drenched, dirty brat.” his teeth sink into your bottom lip as you whine louder, unaware how sukuna’s neck is unbelievably red. why do you taste sweeter?

“Mmm lift your hips up,” he husks. you don’t get the chance to react when he’s suddenly yanking your pants and drenched panties off. “spread ‘em.”

your tongue pokes your bottom lip, opening your legs for your fuck buddy. his huge palms press against your thighs, grabbing fistfuls and licking his bottom lip as your sticky pussy comes into view. his pupils dilate as he watches your hole twitch. and your scent immediately hits his nose. “you’re gonna taste so good today.” he mutters to himself, but your brow lifts.

“what’s different about today?”

he leans forward, eyes flicking up as he exhales. is he drunk? his eyes roll back, cock throbbing in his pants and he inhales again—fuuck, you smell so much sweeter, “nothin.” his tongue shuts you right up as he licks a long wet lewd strip up your folds. your back immediately arches off the couch, nails digging into his scalp as his beefy arms lock around your thighs, moaning. your sweet honey floods his taste buds…this pussy has always hypnotized him, aroma consuming him and taste intoxicating him…but now that he thinks about…this small little difference in taste and scent, a bit sweeter, happened last month—

“ryo—haah ah mmh ya like my pussy?” your eyes flutter as you keep them on sukuna’s flushed face.

his eyes roll back, completely falling apart between your thighs as he groans a deep husky, “fuck yeah.”

your stomach burns hot at his voice, and voice pitching higher as his tongue delves inside your hole. “haaaah—your mouth is so good, baby—ngh been wet all day,” you confess in your pleasure. “was staring at your hands all day, ryo—they’re so big…l-like your di—ahh—“ fuck you’re talking a lot, sukuna groans, annoyed how worked up your voice is getting him.

his tongue laps and sucks, his salvia creating an even bigger mess. he pulls away, cheeks dusted a deep red as he spits directly onto your puffy clit, pupils dilating as he spreads the mess all over your swollen clit. “these hands,” he runs his calloused palm over your lower stomach. your pupils grow black with lust. pupils blown as you stare at the way his hand encompasses the entire surface. his crimson irises dilate once he sees the lust all over your face. “want them inside ya?”

you nod, immediately.

he doesn’t wait.

two long, thick fingers push past the initial tightness, feeling the gummy walls of your pussy hug his digits with delight. your jaw falls slack, drool slipping as he leans down to plant wet kisses along your lower stomach, forearms and biceps flexing as he pistons his fingers in n out. the squelching fills his ears as you moan above him.

“ngh! fuh ryo, feels good, kiss—kiss me down there—“ you push his head down until his lips connect with your clit again, sucking. rough. mean. teeth sinking just hard enough to make your eyes water and a choked cry slip your lips. “ryo,” you mewl with such lewd sweetness that this huge 6’5 hunk is practically moaning in response. “ry—my pussy—ahh gun —mmm c-close—gun cum—“

but sukuna has already lost all sanity with how good your slick tastes. his eyes roll back pushing you over the edge. “mmm fuck!” you cry, lashes wet as they flutter from the pleasure coursing out of you. his throat bops swallowing and lapping your sweet slick like it’s a drug — which it might as well be with the way his cock is throbbing in his boxers just from eating his fuck buddy’s sweet pussy. “taste like fucking honey,” he groans, cleaning you up like a dog. he pants, catching his breath as he climbs up to your lips like a starved animal. he smashes his lips against you, kissing your spit slicked lips with a loud groan. how do your lips taste sweet too?

“gonna be a good brat and let me fuck this tight pussy?” He grunts, unbuckling his belt and pushing his jeans down along with his boxers, freeing his painfully erect cock.

your tongues collide, dumb whine coming from the back of your throat, and hands running up and locking around his neck. “f’course.”

fucking you rough and fast on the couch as you babbled like a dumb slut, drunk on his cock, had him seeing stars. he was desperately trying to figure out how you're handling him with how uncharacteristically rough he’s being, but you haven’t told him to stop.

"ry—aa-haah!"

shit. he'd flipped you onto your stomach, grabbing your hips , ass in the air as he slams his thick throbbing cock in from behind. his rough palm is pressed into your lower back keeping you in that deep arch he loves, and hand cracking the nth spank to your sore ass. "feel good?"

"so good ryo—wanna cum again -cum-ngh haah please please-"

unbelievable.

and it’s not until he’s panting on the couch, your limp body resting across it, completely and utterly spent, does he realize just how rough he was being. his jaw tenses, as the fog clears up.

“hey…” his voice treads lightly, cautious as he turns on the couch, glancing at your resting form. your shirt covers your breasts after he finally came and let you lay back on the couch. but his spend leaks out of your abused hole, and your ass is still burning from his mean spanks. “hey…” he leans over you, hand brushing your waist. grounding. “you okay?”

he watches carefully as you turn on your side, eyes heavy as you blink up at him. “yeah…you okay?”

“you okay with how we fucked?”

you don’t blink, “yeah.”

yeah, somethings up. he was rough, even he knows that much. and you took it well. more than well, you were begging for me.

all of those should’ve been signs. the closeness, the slight sweetness spike in your slick and saliva. how unbelievably heavenly you smell, all the time. how you didn’t mind how rough he was. but the cherry on top was the party friday.

the frat is lit up like a damn fever dream. neon strips line the railings, glow paint smeared across walls and skin, bass from the dj bleeding through the floors as the pool outside shimmers under colored lights. it’s packed, but not suffocating. invite-only for once. people actually have room to breathe, but it was mainly because they didn’t want any complaints so early in the semester.

sukuna is sat back on the patio couch, shirtless, skin still damp from the heat, a thin sheen of sweat catching the lights every time he moves, tattoos flexing over his well defined muscles. gojo was loud beside him, geto half-listening while scrolling on his phone, a couple other guys scattered around with some girls mingling between them. but sukuna isn’t paying attention to any of it.

he has a drink in his hand, untouched. his eyes keep drifting. back to you. somewhere near the edge of the pool, laughing at something utahime is saying, glowing under the neon like it was made for you. your bikini hugged your tits so well he’d pop a boner if he stares too hard. the droplets run down your soft skin, as he sees you fix your necklace as you say something to your friend.

he clicks his tongue, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “you ever notice they act different sometimes?” he mutters, low enough that it doesn’t carry past the music.

nanami, sitting beside him in swim shorts, thick legs spread open for all to eye and an open button up putting his defined abs on full display, along with the sneaky patch of blonde hair peaking out of his waistband, doesn’t even look up from his phone. “that’s a very broad statement.”

sukuna exhales through his nose. “nah, like—” he pauses, frowning slightly, like he’s trying to piece a puzzle together when he doesn’t have all the pieces yet. “it’s not random.”

nanami studies him for a second, then follows his line of sight, and finds you immediately. is he starting to realize his feelings for you?— “not random how?”

sukuna tilts his head, “just… different. clingier. or—” he gestures vaguely with his drink. “more into it.”

nanami raises a brow. “into what.”

sukuna gives him a look like don’t be fucking stupid.

nanami hums, finally catching on, taking a slow sip. “you’re asking if there’s a pattern to women’s behavior.”

“i’m saying there is one,” sukuna mutters aggressively. “i just don’t know what the hell it is.”

“you know,” nanami says calmly, “they have cycles.”

there’s a beat. then sukuna leans back, jaw ticking slightly, still watching you. “yeah I fucking know that,” he mutters. “It’s annoying.”

nanami glances at him again, lost. “what is.”

sukuna doesn’t answer right away. just takes another sip, eyes narrowing faintly. “the way it’s not consistent.”

nanami huffs quietly, amused now . “if you’re starting to notice now then it is consistent.”

sukuna side-eyes him. nanami is no better than gojo or geto, he’s just more subtle about his innuendos. “I’m not noticing shit—“

nanami shrugs, setting his glass down. unaware that gojo and geto have agreed on teams.

“okay! water volleyball!” gojo’s voice cuts clean through the bass, already halfway to the pool as he grins like he’s been waiting for this all night. a cheer ripples through the patio. of course it does. a house full of athletes, half-naked, girls in bikinis, a competition handed to them on a silver platter? yeah, they’re moving before the rules are even explained.

geto stretches his arms above his head as he stands, “hey! the love of god,” he mutters, loud enough for the frat president t to hear him, “try not to break anyone’s teeth this time.”

gojo laughs, already hopping to his side of the pool because obviously he’s one of the captains. “no promises.”

sukuna’s already up, taking the second captain title and just like that — whatever train of thought he was stuck on snaps clean in half. gone. replaced with something sharper, more familiar. his shoulders roll once, loose, eyes narrowing as he sizes up the space, the people already splitting into sides. his team or gojo’s team. they’re always on opposite teams. it makes it more fun.

“don’t get in my way,” he tosses to gojo as he steps around to his end of the pool, his hand brushing his stomach as he crack his neck.

“you wish,” gojo shoots back.

people start gathering, some hanging back to watch, others eager, slipping into the water, calling out sides, laughing as they pick teams. a younger pledge scrambles to the middle, already trying to take control after geto shoves him in to the play referee, whistle in hand like this is some official match.

and of course, even as chaos takes over the yard. your eyes find him. instinctive, like something in you locks in and refuses to look anywhere else.

sukuna stands at the edge, skin still glistening under the neon, muscles flexing lazily as he stretches his arm over his head. his back, his shoulders, the deep v- line that has your eyes following down to the tuft of light hair peaking out the same one you always find yourself caressing during foreplay— it’s too much. it’s always too much, but tonight it sits heavier in your chest, lower in your stomach, something warm and insistent that doesn’t let up between your legs.

your clit throbs.

“wait—” utahime grabs your wrist, staring at you like you’ve lost your mind. “you hate this stuff.”

you don’t even look at her. “it’ll be fun,” you murmur, already pulling away. and then you’re moving. slipping from your seat on the edge of the pool and jumping in.

the water hits cool against your skin, a sharp contrast to the heat that’s been building under it. you swim to sukuna’s side, breath catching slightly as you orient yourself to the chaos around you, because normally, usually, a crowded sweaty pool was something you’d avoid, but—he’s already looking at you. your thighs press together.

his eyes are not casual, not passing, he’s looking. his gaze drops first. slow and deliberate, catching the faint mark on your neck, the one he left last night, barely visible under the colored lights. his jaw ticks. then lower, just for a second, the way your body shifts in the water, the ripple of movement as you steady yourself, the rise and fall of your breasts threatening to spill out. the water calmly rocks underneath them. then his gaze shifts back to your face, and you’re still staring at him. you’re not even trying to hide it.

something about that makes his brow twitch.

because you’re not looking away. not when he meets your eyes. not when the noise around you spikes, not when someone splashes too close. your focus stays locked, heavy, almost… expectant.

it lingers a second too long. then—

“teams set!” the pledge yells, blowing the whistle way too aggressively. “first to ten— no cheap shots—“ he glances around before catching geto lounged on the other side of the pool, some girl already pressed against his arm. “OH! no punches or choking!”

“shut up and start it,” gojo calls from the other side, already grinning, bouncing lightly in the water.

sukuna doesn’t take his eyes off you for another beat. then he exhales through his nose, turning slightly, shoulders squaring as the ball is tossed into play and he’s in the pool.

the game starts rough. the second the ball is tossed, two guys are already lunging for it. water splashing high, bodies colliding mid-air before someone spikes it hard across the pool. girls moved out of the way, squealing as huge men fight. a chorus of shouts erupts from the sidelines, music still blasting behind it, neon lights flickers over wet skin and moving bodies.

gojo, the ever responsible fraternity president, grins like a man possessed on the other side. sukuna, the very responsible vice president, is barking like a mad man.

and of course, the competitive idiots fall into rhythm with each other. fast, aggressive, locked in, and every hit gets harder, a slightly more violent. every return is sharper and people start gathering closer to the edge, phones out, recording, yelling their names like it’s a real match instead of a drunk frat game.

“c’mon, kuna!” someone shouts.

“gojo! spike that shit!”

water slaps against tile. everything is moving fast, bodies move out of the way so they’re not hit by the aggressive spikes from the frat hosts. but they still refuse to leave the pool because it’s fun, messy, loud, and heated.

and then the ball comes your way. your eyes widen, barely able to think, so you just react. your hands come up, fingers pushing against it just right, and somehow, you’re sending it up in a clean arc, right to him.

sukuna moves instantly….he jumps, sculpted body cutting through the air, arm pulling back before he slams the ball down with violent force, sending it crashing into gojo’s side of the pool.

a winning point. a cheer explodes. and when he lands, water dripping down his shoulders, he glances at you, canines on display, as his deep voice cuts through the chaos to say, “good girl.” it’s low, automatic, and it slips out without thought, just like how he’d praise you when you’re alone, and his voice is raspy as he whispers it in your ear, cock usually deep in your guts as he gives you another mean thrust that you take with pride, pussy clamping when he bottoms.

something fast, hot, and dizzying rushes through you. your chest tightens, skin buzzing as your breath stutters for a second. your thighs press together instinctively under the water, pulse kicking up in a way that feels almost overwhelming. and from that moment on, you stick to him. you try to chase the ball for him, pushing it back into his reach every chance you get, doing your best to avoid the large men playing the game. but your focus narrows, locked in on your hot fuck buddy like nothing else exists. every movement feels sharper, more urgent, your body reacting before your brain can catch up.

on the sidelines, people notice. how can they not? most of the girls “playing” cling to the perimeter. and then there’s you, being an idiot, but a very hot one, throwing yourself in the middle. your bikini clings tight from the water, fabric hugging every curve, shifting every time you jump or twist. a few guys on the edge of the pool don’t even bother pretending they’re watching the game anymore. their eyes track you instead, murmurs passing between them. someone whistles when you jump to set the ball, breasts bouncing freely in the flimsy bikini top, your nipples hard underneath as water cascades like some playboy ad.

but sukuna, is too locked into the game to notice.

the first round ends with his team winning, and the second starts almost immediately, louder than before. people are picking sides now, chanting, recording, some still dancing on the grass behind them, focused on the dj, drinks sloshing as the party refuses to slow down around the chaos of the pool’s game.

you’re still right there again when it starts. you doubt you’re even playing anymore, but you wanted to see him, watch him jump high and spike the ball. watch the ink on his back ripple with his muscles. the same defined lines that you caress at night, and hug—

your attention is so narrowed, that you don’t even notice the guy at first. bodies are moving like a blur that you don’t focus on another moving behind you. until it’s too near, too familiar for someone you don’t know. then, a hand brushes your bare side under the water, lingering just a second too long making your blood run cold.

your eyes snap wide. “what the fuck!” you twist instantly, shoving him off hard, water splashing between you as your stomach turns. only a few people notice, the rest too consumed by the game until you’re moving straight towards a certain captain.

“THAT’S A FUCKING FOUL GOJO—what the—“

your arms wrap around him from behind without hesitation, pressing into him, chest flush against his back as you cling to one familiar form. tight, and instinctive.

it catches him off guard, just for a second. his body tenses slightly under your grip. his muscular arms lift, head turning halfway to see, “who the fuck—“ grabbed him in the middle of game! but then he sees you. and his eyes glance down at your familiar hands holding his chest. your name slips out of his lips, confused what you’re doing, but then the ball’s already back in play. and somehow he keeps going.

even with you wrapped around him, weight clinging to his back, he still moves, still blocks, still lands a hit that sends the ball flying back over the net. it’s messy now, uneven, but he’s too competitive to stop, jaw tight, focus split but still sharp. water splashes everywhere. people are yelling. gojo laughs from the other side. “what the hell is that— you got a handicap now?”

sukuna clicks his tongue, annoyed, shifting slightly to keep his balance with you still latched onto him. you don’t let go. not once. “you drunk?” he tries to talk to you mid-game.

“yeah,” you mutter over the music. but as more people fill the pool, and the third round feels much more chaotic, sukuna begins to notice. your grip tightens every time someone gets too close, every time someone accidentally touches you, every time your head spins just a little from the alcohol and the heat and everything. your cheek presses against his back, breath uneven, body still buzzing in a way you don’t fully understand, other than the fact that you can feel how hot it is between your legs. he smells so good…

the game drags on— until finally— gojo’s team takes the last point. a loud cheer erupts from his side, people splashing into the pool, celebrating, phones still up capturing everything.“told you,” gojo grins, pushing his wet snowy hair back, muscles flexing for the cameras as he sticks his tongue out.

sukuna exhales sharply through his nose, annoyed, shoulders tense— he doesn’t shake you off. but unfortunately, he doesn’t get the chance.

you’re suddenly ripped away.

“wha—! what the fuck!” you yelp as a pair of hands grab you from underneath, a drunk junior dunking under the water before popping up with you lifted high onto his shoulders. just for the crowd to erupt.

“OH SHIT— chicken fight!”

“LET’S GO!”

“get her, get her!” other guys in the pool dunk under and lift a few laughing girls up. but you’re not one of them. your thighs clamp instinctively around the stranger’s head just to keep from slipping, heart racing, balance completely shot as water drips down your legs and chest. your hands fly to his hair, trying to steady yourself, panic flashing across your face. you didn’t agree to this. your eyes lock with sukuna immediately. wide. confused. he’s not your boyfriend— but he’s still…

something in him snaps. he straightens, fast. too fast. the playful edge from seconds ago gone completely, replaced with something sharp and violent, jaw tightening as his eyes drag over the way the guy’s hands are gripping your thighs— and the whistles from the crowd don’t help, especially when your hand reaches to adjust the way your bikini top had shifted.

“damn!”

sukuna’s fist curls. “get your fucking hands off her,” he bites out, already moving forward through the water, splashing hard as he closes the distance.

the guy just laughs, drunk, clueless and not listening. “relax, man, it’s just a chicken fight. ever heard of those?”

he doesn’t get to finish. sukuna’s already pulling his arm back, when you squeak.

“wait—!” you gasp, trying to shift your weight, panic spiking as the situation spirals way too fast—but before anything can land another pair of bodies crash into you. a second drunk chicken fight slams into your side, bodies colliding, completely losing balance. and then everything goes under. water rushes over your head in a blur of limbs and noise, the guy beneath you losing his footing as you both go down. you barely have time to register it before a hand grabs you. hard.

sukuna’s arm wraps tight around your waist, yanking you up and out of the water in one sharp motion. you cough, sputtering slightly, fingers clutching onto him as he steadies you against his side. he doesn’t even look at you at first. he’s glaring past you.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?!” he snaps, voice low and dangerous, water dripping from his hair as he stares down the guy who just broke the surface, coughing. “you fucking grab girls without permission and I’m fucking snapping your arm in half!”

the junior lifts his hands, half-laughing, half-defensive. “yo, chill— it’s just a game—”

“i said don’t touch her,” sukuna cuts in, sharper this time, stepping forward like he’s ready to swing anyway.

the energy shifts instantly. people nearby start stepping in, hands coming up.

“aye, chill, chill—” one tries to come between them. sukuna doesn’t even notice that you’d managed to slip from his grip, still coughing as you swim to the steps of the pool, heart pounding as utahime, having seen the entire interaction helps you out.

“you okay?” she sits in front of you on the edge handing you water.

you nod, chugging half the bottle, before breathing again, “swallowed like…” you gag, “a disgusting amount of that pool water.” utahime cringes as she glances at the pool. the interaction growing even more heated, as a crowd watches sukuna curse out the junior.

“anyone else fucking grab a girl without her permission is getting fucking banned from this frat permanently!” sukuna shouts. murmurs break out across the crowd, a few glance towards you, as utahime notices, but you’re too busy washing your mouth out to care.

gojo’s aloof attitude steps in after coming back with a sweet juice in hand. “okay, okay, we’re clear on consent aren’t we guys?”

people hum, cheering for the games to continue. but then…

“didn’t know she was your girlfriend.”

it lands this time, cutting through the noise and sticking just long enough for a few whistles and low laughs to ripple through the crowd. the kind of comment meant to poke, to stir, to see what the hot headed vp will do with it. but what’s worse is that a majority of the crowd has no clue what your relationship is with sukuna. aside from the frat members.

sukuna doesn’t even look at him, and he doesn’t correct it. it’s not because he wants to claim you. not because it’s true. but because it’s annoying—because explaining it, denying it, entertaining it at all feels like more effort than it’s worth. he’s your fuck buddy, he knows that, you know that, and thats all. his jaw tightens once, eyes already elsewhere, done with the conversation before it can grow legs because then he’ll really break his fucking arm.

the party moves on like it always does. music swells back up, as gojo and geto thank the heavens that sukuna was in a good mood before the argument that he wasn’t tempered to continue the fight. luckily the drinks are raised again. gojo’s already laughing, pulling attention away, and just like that the moment dissolves into noise.

sukuna’s focus shifts and lands on you.

you’re still on the edge of the pool, legs dangling in the water, skin slick and glowing under the neon lights. your bikini clings tighter now, nipples pebbled under your soaked top, every curve on display, highlighted by the shadows of the lights above. it makes it impossible not to look. droplets trail down your thighs, catching the light as you tilt your head back slightly, still rinsing your mouth out, brows furrowed in clear disgust.

utahime sits in front of you, just as eye-catching to the hungry men around, her own bikini hugging her frame, water beading along her collarbones as she watches you with a mix of concern and amusement.

and people are staring. not subtle glances—staring like you’re something to watch. something to linger on. like the game earlier just shifted into something else entirely and now you’re part of it without agreeing. no wonder you hate these parties.

it irritates him, fast.

sukuna clicks his tongue under his breath and pushes forward through the water, tall enough that even standing in the pool, he closes the height between you easily. the neon catches on his skin too. his broad shoulders still damp, muscles flexing as he moves, water sliding down his torso in slow lines. he’s not unaware of the way people look at him either—girls nearby pausing mid-conversation, eyes dragging over him openly—but he doesn’t care. not right now. not when he reaches you.

his hand comes up without hesitation, settling on your exposed thigh where it hangs over the edge of the pool. his palm is warm even against your wet skin, fingers spreading slightly, firm enough to ground, possessive. the contact is immediate. deliberate.

the shift is noticeable. a couple of those lingering stares drop off instantly. only then does he look at you. his gaze flicks over your face, still a little flushed, still catching your breath, before settling. his gaze is steady, assessing the way your glossy lips part with an exhale after chugging an entire bottle of watet.

“you good?” he asks, voice lower now, rougher around the edges from the leftover tension. his thumb moves slightly against your skin without thinking, a small, absent motion that doesn’t match the sharpness in his expression.

utahime has to hold back an eye roll, especially when his gaze flicks over your face, then your lips. unbelievable. what’s with him? what’s stopping him from asking you out if he gets so hot headed and possessive—ughhh…utahime holds back her anger, because she was pissed when someone suddenly grabbed you and then had you dunked in the water. why does sukuna have to be so fucking weird though?! she internally curses out sukuan for being the person that always protects her best friend, but acts like a complete jerk another second.

“how much sweat did you drink?” sukuna asks, tone laced with amusement .

your eyes snap, face grimacing, “shut the fuck—up,” you gag again, hand coming up to your mouth just for utahime to snort and sukuna to bark with laughter.

“did i tell ya why we had to drain the pool last year—“ sukuna starts, utahime’s eyes widen.

“oh my god I remember!”

your face pales, nails digging into sukuna’s shoulder while the other still covers your mouth. “don’t you dare tell me.”

sukuna grimaces with an amused expression remembering what happened at last years pool party. but distracting you has somehow managed to isolate everything else around him and have his sole focus on the way you wipe your mouth with a napkin utahime — and now nanami and geto at her side — comes back with, and the way your fingers shift from his shoulder to his forearm resting across your damp lap. and the conversation flows afterwards.

gojo was still on the dance floor, completely in his own world, some girl is pressed to his side as neon lights strobe over him laughing, loud, untouchable in the way he always is. meanwhile, the edge of the pool has settled into something more intimate and funny. the conversations around overlap as you all joke loudly and throwing around slight bickering, cooling off from the chaos, but still very much alive.

and with all that, you hadn’t left. even after everything, you’re still sitting where you are, leg still dipped in the water, skin dewy under the lights, bikini keeping your pretty tits in view for a certain salmon haired man. your hair is slightly damp, pushed back from your face, exposing the curve of your neck—the faint mark sukuna left the night before still visible if someone looks close enough. and you smell heavenly. fuck if you’re alone, he’d bury his nose closer to your breasts to smell the sweat clinging.

but people are looking. they always are now.

they just don’t linger as long anymore. not with him there. sukuna leans into the edge of the pool, upper body braced beside you, his arm draped behind your back like it naturally falls there. his other hand rests lazily against your thigh, fingers tapping absently against your skin as he takes a sip from his beer. his shoulders are broad, still slick with water, veins visible along his arms as they flex with every small movement.

he looks just as much of a problem as ever. and the attention doesn’t stop, girls nearby still steal glances, whispers, watching the way he’s positioned so close to you, the way his hand hasn’t moved from your leg once. but what’s more interesting, is that you don’t move either.

you don’t push him off, don’t shift away. if anything, you lean just slightly into his space, your fingers absentmindedly tracing along his forearm where it rests across your lap, like it’s second nature. you like it there.

and sukuna notices. of course he does, with how touchy and clingy you’ve been these past few days. yes, he’s shocked you haven’t left, or haven’t asked him to go upstairs with you. instead you’re being so uncharacteristically attached.

his gaze flicks down for a second, watching the way your fingers move against his skin, something unreadable passing through his expression before he looks away again, taking another sip like it didn’t just register. his stomach churns when you lean forward slapping nanami’s stretched out hand after he said something funny.

“why the fuck are you guys sitting here?” gojo’s voice cuts in suddenly, dripping with disbelief as he approaches, hair damp, grin lazy. he looks down at your little group, then at the pool like it personally offended him. “this is embarrassing.”

utahime snorts. “she almost drowned, idiot.”

“she’s alive,” gojo shrugs immediately, already grabbing a drink from someone nearby. “get in the hot tub. it’s waaaay better!”

a couple girls attached to him nod eagerly, already following his lead as he starts heading that way without waiting for an answer. utahime glances at you. “you wanna stay out or…?”

you don’t even hesitate as you hum, soft. “yeah, why not.”

sukuna catches it.

the group starts moving, the energy shifting with them as they make their way toward the hot tub. somewhere along the path, nanami and utahime get pulled into another conversation, stopping off to the side, leaving you and sukuna to keep going without them. your skin burns as sukuna keeps a subtle hand in your lower back, biting his lip when you reach the hot tub and you step in front of him. his gaze drops to the movement of your ass, your bikini was so skimpy it’s definitely clinging on to your pussy lips too. fuck,

by the time you step into the hot tub, the heat hits instantly. you sigh without meaning to, tension melting from your shoulders as the warmth wraps around you, soaking into your skin. your body relaxes almost immediately, the contrast from the cooler pool making everything feel heavier, slower.

sukuna steps in right after you. and immediately shoves two guys aside with a sharp nudge of his shoulder. “move.”

they do quickly without argument, clearly frat members. he settles in beside you, close again, like earlier, like he didn’t just create that space for you.

gojo drops in for half a second, splashing water everywhere before grimacing. “it’s too hot,” he complains, already climbing back out. “i need another drink.”

and just like that, he’s gone again. leaving you, sukuna, and the rest of the group laughing, talking. the conversation easy as the night keeps rolling around you. especially when geto comes back with some girls and red solo cups for beer pong.

“don’t spill any in the hot tub!” sukuna barks as the girls organize the cups in place on the edge. geto slides into the pool with the ping pong balls.

“shh shh i know,” he zips his friend up as he takes aim. and as the party is brought back to the hot tub, you’re all swept up again. and your eyes are following every movement of your friend beside you. the way he’s shouting and laughing with his frat brothers, the conversations turning to fog when sukuna flexes his large bicep, the ink that wraps around it highlights how big they are. you can’t even recall the context of this sudden flex off, but you’re not complaining.

you watch his throat bop as he throws back another cup of beer, standing beside geto. your eyes trail over his sculpted chest. you suck in your bottom lip as sukuna falls back beside you. his arm draped behind you along the edge of the hot tub, barking another laugh at some crap geto is spewing, completely distracted.

“I swear TO GOD, you told me to go for that dive!” geto throws his hands up, flabbergasted.

“nah nah nah—“ sukuna shouts over, shaking his head with an amused expression, “I told you—“

“nah—satoru!!” geto looks over his shoulder, waving down the president. “SATORU!”

gojo’s head whips around. however, the debate is the furthest thing from your mind, honestly you can’t even understand what these idiots are talking about. but— there’s one idiot that smells heavenly.

sukuna distracted, doesn’t notice how much closer you’re pressed to him, how your lashes flutter at the mix of cologne and chlorine flooding your nose, and dizzying your mind. he’s so—uh..when men— your brain is short circuiting. literally. mind so consumed by how big and strong this man beside is, that all you can think about is how he protected you. he pulled you out of the water. snapped at that guy…for you.

you’re not normally this moved. but it was the series of events that unfolded, all in the last few hours, that has you doing what you do next.

“please! you know i did not agree to that!” geto tsks, pointing his finger at gojo who’s laughing, sitting at the edge of the hot tub, legs in. and the two — along with the rest of the group involved in the debate — are distracted, and unaware of the fact that the pretty girl that sukuna almost started a fight over, is slipping her pretty hand inside his swim shorts.

sukuna tenses. breath hitching.

his eyes snap to you, stomach clenching. “what’re you—“ he chokes when you squeeze his thick base without warning. your cheek casually presses against his shoulder, wetting your bottom lip. your leg is tucked against his side, as the other swings over his knee, pretty tits squished against his arm. your wrist rolls, stroking his flaccid cock alive.

“ryo…” you speak low enough so that only sukuna can hear. “was jus’ thinking about you.” his jaw tenses, hand clenching at the edge of the tub, leaning his head down.

“you’re the one that doesn’t like this shit,” he husks, throat bopping as you bat your lashes up at him, bitting your lip as you give his cock another squeeze, pushing your wet tits against his arm. “there’s people—“

“then be normal, ryo,” you say, all while nuzzling him like a clingy g— “just wanted to feel how big you are.”

his heads tips back, what’re you even saying?

you keep your cheek pressed against his shoulder, lip tucked between your teeth as you stroke the vp’s fat throbbing cock in the middle of a party and in a hot tub full of his close frat friends.

it wasn’t difficult for his dick to fully harden within seconds of your hand making contact. you let out a soft exhale, pressing your practically naked body against him like you could get any closer than you already are. but to make matters worse, he was so unbelievably turned on that you were touching him in public! fuuck, his stomach flexes, biting back a groan when your thumb swipes his bulbous tip, the water made it difficult for you to keep a fast pace stroke, but his skin was still prickling with heat.

“ryo, is this okay?” you softly pant in his ear, a hum like moan escapes your lips just by the way he exhales through his nose, turning his head to you, aroma engulfing you.

to anyone else it just looked like you were having a private conversation with each other. the hot tub and pool, a few feet away, booming with chaos, no one was paying attention to you guys. but even with all that information, sukuna — who spreads his legs further apart in the water, biting his lip when you kiss his neck now, sucking a light bruise on his flushed skin — knows that you’d never do this. you get touchy when you’re drunk, whispering dirty shit in his ear. but you’ve only had a couple drinks to make you tipsy enough to enjoy the party and remember, not black out drunk to jerk him off in public.

“yeah—it’s okay,” his head drops forward, hot red flush crawling up his neck and stinging his cheeks as he nudges your head with his.

“yeah?” you repeat with a coo.

he bites back a pathetic groan, arm sliding to your waist under the water, gripping your flesh like his life depends on it. you’re intoxicating.

“yeah baby.”

a flush of heat runs between your legs at his deep bedroom voice. sukuna is so hot, he’s so hot, so pretty, so sexy! you squeal internally, leaning closer to press your lips against his sharp jaw, whining just low enough for him to hear. your wrist twists down his cock. you hadn’t even full realized that you’d taken him out of his swim trucks, to possessed to care as his fingers dig into your waist, while the other balls into a fist against the tube’s edge.

“are you close, ryo? is your big cock gonna cum?”

unbelievable.

sukuna’s jaw tenses, abs tightening just by your voice. you’ve been hanging up on how big he is. how big his hands are. how big his dick is — scratch that, you’re using the word cock now. yeah he’s gonna fuckin’ cum soon if you keep talkin’ like that.

“there’s so many people around ry,” you shy quietly, “you don’t think they know I’m playing with you?” your slightly tipsy eyes bat up at him, pupils completely dilated. his eyes briefly sweep around him, the alarms flashing in his mind don’t seem to phase him as he drops his lips down to brush yours.

“what if they are aware?” he husks, lidded eyes boring into yours. “does that make y’r pussy wet?” he wets his lip, thighs flexing when you give his cock a squeeze as he speaks. “ya like knowing that there’s eyes everywhere…watching your slutty self jerk me off.”

your brain short circuits. face burning hot.

“I’m not a slut,” you whisper, just as you’re practically straddling his thigh now, with the way you’re inching closer to him every second. his hand slides from your waist to your ass, gripping the flesh as he pulls it apart letting you feel the warm tube water touch your heated pussy.

“you’re gettin on top of me—“

“to protect your dignity,” you attempt a frown, but your eyes keep flicking to his lips, brushing your lips against them again, just for him to pull back, again.

“didn’t take you as someone so generous,” he quips, hips angling up, subtly telling you to keep stroking him, even if it’s starting to feel like edging. “but,” he bites back another groan, “but to me, ya just look like another slut that wants to get her little pussy stuffed.”

you blink. once.

sukuna can see the lust burst behind your eyes. your thighs clamp around his beefy thigh, your hand squeezing his tip, and your lips parting. “is that so bad?”

ah fuck.

“you can’t say those words to a man,” sukuna’s rasps.

you pout, pressing your wet breasts against his chest, trapping his cock between your bodies. your hot breath fans against his face, scent invading his mind, and your lips brush against his, this time licking his bottom lip. once. twice. your tongue strokes his bottom lip, waiting for him to invite you in, whining a little louder when he refuses. “ryo.”

his large palms grip your ass. your flimsy bikini could easily be pulled to the side, exposing you just like him. your cheeks flush, arching even more, your arms are tossed around his broad shoulder, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape, desperate. needy. “I’ve been holding myself back ryo,” you quietly speak, unaware how much like déjà vu this feels. memories of last month flashing in his mind about those exact words coming from your lips as you climbed into his lap in the middle of a party. “you have to take care of it.”

“i have too?” he quips with a sharp edge in his tone.

your flush with embarrassment, lips parting as your lashes flutter shut, “please…please can you take care of it.”

unbelievable.

his cock twitches violently against your stomach. his muscular thigh flexes under your pussy making your lips part.

as you and sukuna speak in hushed whispers. a good group of people have take notice of the awkward shifting in the hot tub and the unrecognizable look on sukuna’s face. but specifically the girl that the sukuna let attach herself to him during a violently competitive water volleyball match and almost pick a fight with. he’s smirking as she whispers in his ear, her lips even pressing his lobe, making the intimidating vice president blush?!

“her tits are all over him,” one whispers, taking a sip as they watch from a distance, both sitting at the pools edge watching the events unfold a few feet’s away in the hot tub. it’s not obvious unless you’re staring as hard as these guys, or if you’re a certain man laughing as you stand up at the edge of the tub, face dropping for a millisecond when you catch your vice president getting off by a hot girl.

fucking animals, geto shakes his head, eyes flicking to gojo, easily communicating with him about you know.

gojo’s brows pinch glancing over from his seat at the edge of the tub, to— “oh shit!”

geto elbows him. “idiot!”

gojo’s hands fly to his mouth, laughing hysterically as he stares at the way his short tempered friend is blushing like crazy, and making it obvious to anyone that he’s getting his dick touched right now. “do they know what they’re doing?” gojo speaks in hushed whispers.

“obviously,” geto sits beside gojo, the tub water doesn’t seem to be appealing anymore. and yet there’s still a few people on the sides laughing, too drunk to notice.

“fucking pervs,” gojo snickers.

a beat passes.

then gojo turns, eyes wide when he sees geto staring blankly at him. “what?”

“you’re worse!” geto slaps him upside the head. gojo gasps in shock. “I can’t even remember how many times you fucked someone in here and in the pool—“

“hey,” gojo frowns, cheeks flushed from the alcohol. “that was…b-because they were hot.”

geto scoffs, “you weren’t even subtle about them, everybody knew you were fucking them. YOU’RE the biggest perv.”

gojo nods, “yeah…”

your whine flows directly into sukuna’s ear, lips coming back to his. “why won’t you kiss me?” you quietly demand.

his dimples press into his cheeks as he bites back a smirk. “we’re jus’ talking,” he says your name, but in that deep way he does when he’s stuffing you with his cock…which he’s not.

you sit up closer, sliding higher up his thigh, knee rubbing harshly against his cock — “ah!” you squeal suddenly straddling his lap instead of his thigh. his red irises sink into yours, watching the way your glossy lips part glancing at the surface of the hot tub trying to make out how close his cock is to where you need him. “you’re hard ryo.”

“and?”

your eyes flick up to him, pretty brows pressing together, “and we’re not jus’ talking—“

“y’know—“ he suddenly chokes.

you’ve moved your bikini to the side, and pushed his cock down, fully sitting on his cock and sliding across it, hips shaking, stimulating your needy clit.

your name cuts through the air, his grip moves to grab your hips, trying to keep you still, but his body betrays him as he bucks against you. “fuck, woman.”

your lips press against sukuna, whining like a desperate slut when he finally kisses you back. and this was why he didn’t want to entertain you this quickly. the sweet taste of your lips immediately sends a rush of heat down to his cock, his arm wraps around your back, holding the back of your head as the other grips your ass, groaning as your lips smack in wet hungry kisses. your tongues collide, spit collecting in your mouth as he groans in response.

sukuna has to be responsible. he has too. but you’re such a fucking slut— touching his cock, stroking him in public, rubbing your body (his biggest weakness) against him like you’re alone together. and now you’re humping his cock like you can feel something with the water’s friction.

all of it was a factor, and for some unexplainable reason, all the dots seemed to have connected at this exact moment—like a huge light bulb going off in his head.

“shit.”

you hum at the way his deep voice sends a warm heat blooming in your stomach. “are you turned on, ryo?” your lips purse, kissing his, unaware of the sudden realization he’s come too. “keep kissing me.”

your fingers thread through his short locks, gripping him as you keep his lips moving yours.

but sukuna’s palm splays across your spine, groaning at the way you don’t stop to catch your breath. then his grip tightens. his mouth drags slower this time, more deliberate. he’s testing something, and the way you react—how quick you melt back into him, how your nails press into his shoulders like you’re holding on and the pitched whine that leaves your lips when he tries to pull away.

“how bad d’you need me?” he murmurs, voice low, rough, right against your pretty lips.

you don’t hesitate. “so bad,” you breathe, almost frustrated, because it’s obvious.

his eyes flick over your face, searching, calculating—then narrowing slightly. “yeah?” he hums, thumb pressing into your waist, grounding you as you shift again, his cock snug between your folds. “why,” he asks, tone not soft or gentle, but testing.

you shake your head slightly, breath catching, fingers tightening on him. “because— i just—” you exhale sharply, frustrated, needy, “i just want you to touch me.”

that’s all he needs. a quiet, almost amused exhale leaves him, something darker settling behind his eyes now. nanami’s little comment about “noticing now” makes his stomach churn uncomfortably. it doesn’t mean anything that you’ve had this friend with benefits deal long enough for him to start noticing a pattern every month. especially when this part of the cycle comes around and you’re practically begging him to just touch you. he highly doubts that you even notice it.

“been like this all night,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, but his grip doesn’t loosen. if anything, it gets firmer. “can’t keep your hands off me, huh?”

you don’t even deny it. you just pull him back in. and this time he lets you. let’s you kiss him like it’s your last time, let’s you tug his hair like he belongs to you. let’s you pull away… you’re panting at him through glossy, lidded eyes.

and then sukuna notices.

the shift.

your breathing breaks. shallow and uneven. you can’t quite catch it as your lips part, soft, glossy, letting out these higher, breathier sounds that you’re not even trying to hold back anymore. it’s quieter than the music, but he hears it. feels it.

his grip tightens instinctively.

your hips are moving without any rhythm now. they’re slow, needy, desperate. your body chasing something it can’t reach fast enough. your fingers press into his lower stomach, clutching there like you need something solid to hold onto, your head tipping forward, lashes fluttering like a fucking angel. and your mouth falls open. a soft, pitched sound slips out of you—one you don’t even seem aware of—and it’s enough to make something dark flicker across his expression.

“…fuck,” he mutters under his breath, eyes locked on your face now, watching every little change his cock twitching uncontrollably.

your brows pinch, then your body tenses, then softens, like a wave hitting and pulling back all at once. your grip on him tightens, thighs pressing in, grounding yourself on his cock without even thinking about it.

and he doesn’t move. doesn’t interrupt it. he just watches. because now he knows. and all he can think is how unbelievably hot you look in his eyes—like something wired wrong in his brain just flipped on. women that are ovulating mean they’re more likely to get pregnant. fuck. why is his brain latching onto that part? you’re his fuck buddy. this is simple. it is simple. it’s perfectly reasonable—completely normal, even—for him to get turned on thinking about how much you cling to him, how much you crave him, how much you need him, how your body reacts to him like this. that doesn’t mean he wants to get you—

absolutely the fuck not.

but still…fucking women. you’re insane. his brain is short circuiting while you’re coming undone on his lap, in a hot tub, in the middle of a packed party.

and the way you’re panting, your breasts pushed together as you keep a hand on his lower abs, pussy spasming as your orgasm rocks through you, has something low and satisfied settling in your fuck buddy’s chest. his hand slides up your back again, slower this time, more deliberate.

“yeah…” he murmurs, almost to himself, thumb pressing lightly into your side as your breathing tries to steady. “that’s what i thought.”

his lips ghost over you.

then he feels it…the eyes.

his dark gaze flicks up. meeting the dilated blue and black ones, along with the others in the crowd. they all saw, didn’t they. witnessed something that had his jaw tightening and his pupils returning to their size.

“fuck me,” you pant quietly, arms lazily coming back to his shoulders coming down from your climax. you kiss him deeply, unaware of the mess you’re causing inside his brain. “I’ve heard people say hot tub’s make you orgasm better,” you lick his tongue, “because of the hot water.”

his grip tightens around you, eyes open and staring past you at the people eyeing the arch in your back as you make out with him like you didn’t just hump yourself to an orgasm in public.

“do you wanna cum too ryo?” your mischievous smile would’ve made any man buckle, but sukuna wasn’t any man. and he sure as shit isn’t a fucking cuck.

“no.”

his sudden tone shift had you pulling back, wet hand touching his damp cheek. sukuna’s thick brows were pulled tightly, clearly angry, at what? you’re not sure. but you’re too lax to think much of it as you squish his cheeks between your fingers. his tatted arm possessively hugged you, eyes briefly leaving the not so subtle audience behind you, to meet your glass eyes.

“you mad I came before you?” you tease, head tilting in mockery. cute. “it’s okay, I’ll make ya cum,” you whisper, smile gracing those sinful lips of yours. “I’ll let you choose too…”

fuck, you’re insane.

“…my hands…my lips….or my tight, pretty pussy….”

sukuna snorts, eyes meeting yours. “unbiased much.”

you shrug biting your lip, batting your pretty lashes at him. “you always call it that. I’m just using your vocabulary, mister suh…ku…nuh.”

that was his final straw, because in a blink of an eye, sukuna’s tucking himself and pushing off the tub’s seat, standing up. water cascades down the sharp planes of his abs, his swim trunks clinging low on his hips—leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.

and people notice.

of course they do.

your jaw drops for half a second, eyes going wide before heat floods your face so fast it burns. you shoot up right after him, fist clenching at your side, brows pinching tight. “what’re you doing?”

“we’re going upstairs,” he says simply, like there aren’t a million eyes on him, more specifically on his thick bulge. girls are openly staring now, not even trying to hide it as their gazes drag over him, over the obvious outline pressing against his trunks.

your stomach twists. uncomfortable. sharp. ugly. you don’t name it. you won’t name it because it’s stupid. you have no claim, no say, no right to feel any type of way about who looks at him or how they look at it. but still, your jaw tightens because the way they’re staring is making your blood boil and it’s like they’re in on something they’re not supposed to be. they’re looking at something that has nothing to do with them and everything to do with you. just you.

your eyes flick back to him, to the way the water trails down his body, down the dark wet hairs of his happy trail. the way he stands there like he doesn’t give a single fuck about the attention. and it only makes it worse. he looks like he’s been carved out of stone. something untouchable. and everyone’s fucking touching him with their eyes.

your lips press into a thin line, pulse uneven, heat sitting low in your stomach now for an entirely different reason as you step closer to him without even realizing it, hand settling on his stomach blocking the view from the onlookers. your fingers twitch. and you hate…hate how much it bothers you.

“you’re hard,” you huff, pushing him to step out of the tub, heart beating uncontrollably.

sukuna snorts, leaning down, “yeah no shit.”

“people are staring,” you grit.

your pulse stops. the air shifting around you, then you feel it. sukuna’s eyes bore into you, as his palm cups the side of your neck. your lips part in confusion when his gruff voice cuts.

“they’ve been staring.” the muscles on his jaw flex, pupils moving over your face as his gaze drops to your body. “they all…” his words trail off. he can’t say it…he can’t tell you they all fucking saw you cum, or the way your entire form looked like something straight out of every guys wet fantasy. all because of that unspoken tug that twists in his chest as you look up at him.

his head tips back in defeat.

unaware of the turmoil, you continue pushing him back, glancing briefly over your shoulder to see a few eyes not on the party but staring at sukuna.

“can you walk faster,” you mutter.

sukuna suddenly grabs your wrist after another push backwards, almost making him trip. his grip is firm and fast, yanking you back toward him before you can take another step, your body colliding lightly into his chest. water still drips from both of you, heat clashing with the cool night air as he steadies himself, jaw tightening for a second.

“watch it,” he mutters, low, though there’s no real bite to it. if anything, there’s something else there. his hand doesn’t leave your wrist. instead, it slides up, fingers curling tighter as he pulls you closer. closer. until there’s barely any space left between you. you barely get a word out before he leans down and kisses you.

hard.

it’s sudden. messy. all teeth and heat, like he’s cutting off whatever rush of thoughts were building in your head. your hands come up instinctively, gripping into his shoulders as he angles you just right, one hand now firm at your waist to keep you there. your lips part, immediately tasting his skilled tongue.

and around you, the party doesn’t stop. it never does when it’s grown this chaotic. but there are pockets, small ones, where people notice. gojo, still leaning back against the hot tub’s edge, lets out a low laugh. “zero awareness,” he mutters, clearly entertained. geto just shakes his head, amused, watching the scene unfold like it’s expected. neither of them have the energy tonight to call their friend out, but they’ll be sure to give him shit tomorrow.

but off to the side, a couple girls lean into each other, whispering behind their solo cups, eyes flicking between sukuna and the very obvious situation he’s not bothering to hide. further back, a few of the same guys from earlier in the pool linger, their stares a little too heavy, a little too interested, but sukuna doesn’t register it.

he’s too focused on you. too focused on the way you kiss him back just as hard. how you’re still letting out those fucking whines and moans into his hot mouth. too focused on how quickly you fold into him like he’s the oxygen keeping you alive. to him, this urgency and impatience, just reads as one thing. you want him so bad.

he pulls back just enough to breathe, lips still brushing yours, his gaze dropping to your face, slightly dazed, flushed, and lips parted from the kiss.

“…yeah,” he exhales, almost amused, thumb pressing into your waist like he’s grounding himself. “you taste so good.”

your fingers tighten around his bicep, the other around his shoulder, breath uneven as you blink up at him, still catching up.

“can we—” you swallow, then try again, quieter but more urgent, “can we go upstairs now?”

there’s a beat. then his hand slides down to yours again, grip tightening as he turns, already moving toward the house without another word—pulling you with him. he pushes straight through the noise that follows inside, the lights, the bodies still dancing in the kitchen like nothing. all the way up to his room, and immediately kicking the door shut.

and within a blink of an eye, your tongue is lolling out as sukuna sits behind you, fingers digging into your ass and face buried from behind.

“fuh—fuck yeah,” you drawl, lips wet at the feel of sukuna’s tongue dragging inside your pussy, lapping up and toying with your rim before going back to suck your slick juices. “c’mon ry, haah…” you’re pushing his head back, so you can sit up. you move to tug his wet trunks off, crawling onto his lap once he discards them. unbothered by the tick in his jaw at your stubbornness, because in seconds, your head is tossed back, and your back is arching as you sink down on the nine thick fat inches. “a….ah—“

your lashes flutter, eyes rolling back at the unbelievable stretch. your pussy swallowing every inch like the slut he loves.

“there ya go,” he praises, fingers digging into your ass as you stare at his lips. his sharp teeth sink into his bottom lip as your slick lubricates his cock. your pussy a generous fountain as you roll your hips, letting his cock stuff deep inside you. “take this fuckin’ cock like a good bitch.”

“ry…haah…” you’re moaning in choked gasps, drool peaking at the corner of your lips as you finally sit back on his thighs.

the man’s pupils dilate as you stroke your lower stomach, feeling the bulge as you bat your lashes up at him. “you’re inside me now, ryo.”

fuck you. seriously.

his brain short circuits in seconds. and now all he sees is you.

his body reacts like a dog with his master. obeying your needs like he’s wired to do that. and he’s not complaining. his hand falls on your ass, beefy thighs spreading, as he meets your bounces with rough snaps of his hips. your ass claps against his thighs with each bounce, gasps piercing the air as he fucks up into you with full force. and you let him.

“look like a fuckin’ porn star on top of me,” he grunts, swallowing a moan when you clamp around him, finger tugging on the knot around your neck letting your bikini finally fall off, freeing your gorgeous tits. “fucking brat—“

his tongue falls out, licking your tit that bounces in his face, lips wrapping around your nipple and sucking desperately. and he’s not nice about it. because now he knows. he knows you’ll let him. knows when you’re ovulating you’ll let him be a little harder, meaner, because it feels good. it feels good to feel his teeth bite down on your nipple possessively. it feels good when he spanks your ass for the nth time until your eyes are rimmed red and flooding with tears.

it feels good to have him obsessed with you, because all you’re begging for is…

“cu—uh—cum.”

an electric current runs down his spine, jaw clenching and head tipping back, flooding your tight pussy with his thick load.

“shit—nghhh fuuuck—fuck baby,” he’s gripping your hips as you press against his stomach, rocking on his cock. he doesn’t fully realize his back is laying against the bed. not when you’re milking his cock like he’s some fucking cow…and yet… “shit keep goin, baby—yeah ya want m-Mmm shit.”

“feel so good ryo.” you shake your ass, feeling his cock twitch inside you when his arm wraps around you, tugging you down to his chest.

“you can keep going?”

you smile, hand touching his cheek, as your tongue strokes his bottom lip. “yeah.” you sigh, whining so softly he would’ve missed it. and you continue like that, kissing him over and over, sighing and calling his name as he pulls out, his fingers push inside your pussy from behind.

“y’r killing me with this tight pretty pussy,” he coos, sending a wave of heat through your veins.

you mewl against his lips, earning a mean spank to your ass, just for his middle and ring finger to slip back inside you. and he does that for god knows how long, until you finally spasm around his digits. he’s then flipping you over, easily getting on top.

“keep em open cmon.” his low voice has your pussy pulsing, pushing his previous load out right in front of his eyes. he must know his voice’s affects on you.

you hold your legs open, bottom lip between your teeth as you watch sukuna stroke his member over you. the room smells of chlorine, you, and him. “theere we go,” he groans, palm pressing against your knee as he kneels closer to your open legs, dilated pupils staring at the mess between your legs as he slaps his hard cock on your puffy pussy. “what a dirty fuckin’ girl,” he drags his cock between your slippery folds, exhaling through his nose when his engorged tip catches your sore clit.

“ryoomen,” you call softly, like you haven’t been all over him these last two days.

he snorts, “what happened to mister sukuna? don’t tell me you’ forgot how you humped yourself to an orgasm in the pool—“

“hot tub.”

“my bad,” he remarks sarcastically, tip pushing inside then pulling out again, teasing. “still rubbed this pussy raw, look,” he slaps his cock again, thumb rubbing your little bundle of nerves making you let go of your legs— “ah—keep em open.” he spanks the inside of your thigh. “dirty girls need to be taught a lesson.”

“please,” you scoff, sitting up on your elbows, “you were literally slapping everyone around with your hard dick.”

sukuna barks out a laugh. “my dick’s that big?”

you glance down at him, then back up. “I wasn’t being dirty. you were dirty too.”

“me?” he’s baffled, you’ve been throwing yourself at him all night!

you raise a brow at him, relaxing back on the pillows pressed against the headboard, eyeing him. “you never took your hands off me.”

sukuna scoffs, “as if, you latched onto me on the pool.”

“then i went to hime to wash my mouth out, and you—“ you point at him with emphasis, “came swimming to me, touching me, stroking my thigh, my back.” your brow quirks again, and sukuna goes mute. his jaw ticks, glancing over your face as your calf subtly hooks over his thigh, stroking up as your hands lay on your stomach, waiting.

“you…” he licks the back of his teeth, sharp eyes threatening, but… “so what if I had my hands on you?” oh, he admits it. your cheeks sting, wetting your lip as you shrug.

“well,” you tilt your head again, slightly embarrassed now, glancing down at his inked chest. “like…you can’t blame me for getting turned on then.”

“because I’m touching you?”

you nod.

“like this,” his palm trails from your knee, slowly up your thigh. the warmth of his skin feels burns a trail up your body.

you nod.

his hand reaches your waist, eyes boring into yours. his cock throbbing at this point, he can feel the slick of your arousal costing his cock as it rests against your pussy.

turning to some light foreplay after just fucking you was messing with his head…because….it feels so good.

“what about when I’m touching your waist,” his thumb strokes the soft skin. “it’s not your ass.”

your breath is uneven. your heart beats against your rib cage. “still,” you exhale.

“still turns you on?” he clarifies, catching the way your lips part, breathless just by the way he’s flirting with you. his cock twitches…you’re gorgeous.

you nod.

his free hand caresses your hips, moving it up your body in feather-like-caresses. his other arm is pressed beside you, keeping himself up as he watches your arms lay bent on the bed. his hand lightly brushes the side of your breast before trailing over your collarbone. “still?”

you nod, wetting your bottom lip, blown pupils maintaining eye contact.

his thumb caresses your collarbone, eyes flicking between your eyes and the way your chest is rising and falling in uneven breaths. “how about now?” his palm glides over your bicep, then down your arm, before threading his fingers with yours.

you squeeze his hand, eyes unable to tear away from his, cheeks hot. his face inches closer to yours, exhaling against your lips. “I think you’ve jus’ proved how horny you’ve been these past few days.”

your breath stutters, angling your chin up, “obviously,” you mutter against his lips. “I’m pretty sure I’m ovulating.”

something dark and electric flashes through his eyes. a low exhale leaves him, almost a laugh, but there’s no humor in it, just heat, thick and immediate. his grip on your hand tightens to the point it almost borders on rough.

“yeah?” he murmurs, voice dropping, rougher now, like it’s scraping out of his throat. his forehead nudges against yours for a second, grounding himself, but it doesn’t work. if anything, it makes it worse. “tell me you want me to stuff you then.”

“I want you to stuff me, ryo,” you repeat, breathless as his jaw slacks finally rocking his hips into yours, slick cock massaging your folds. “with your cock…your cum….”

“keep going,” he husks.

your free hand trails up his bicep, the other still holding his hand like an anchor. “I want you to fuck me. hard. use me. cum in me.”

“ah fuck—“ he slips his hand between your bodies, pushing his cock down and snapping his hips into yours, sheathing his entire length inside. your jaw drops, broken cry slipping out. “y’ really know how to make a man fucking hard.”

your lips are glossed with spit as he presses his lips against yours. he swallows your moans, snapping his hips with a mean hard thrust, picking up a brutal pace without warning.

and you love it.

the base downstairs shakes the bedroom walls, the laughing and chatter outside is nothing compared to the way you’re panting and crying in his ear. the lights flickering from the pools strobe lights, only serve to illuminate your flushed face as you cum.

“fuck, you still want more,” he’s already kissing you again, and again. spit mixing together against your tongues as he pulls away. he pants over your face, his cheeks flushed pink and his cock rubbed raw. “fuck gunna cum…ngh yeah fuck fuck—“ he pistons his cock inside your poor cunt, dilated pupils zeroing on the mess that’s gushing from you. his chuckle is broken with his groan as he fucks you through it all. “keep squirting baby, it won’t make me stop.”

and he doesn’t. his thrusts are rough. engorged tip bruising your cervix with every snap of his sharp fit hips. he’s harder than usual, and even as you’re gasping, back of your hand raised to your mouth, pussy spasming as sukuna slams his body weight into each thrust — you don’t push him away.

“gunna cum…shiit, shit it’s coming—“ his voice breaks, and it feels like a damn crashing. his cock pulses inside you, squirting buckets inside your poor cunt. “haah fuh—“ his abs flex, body weight dropping on top of you, hugging you tight as he rocks his hips into lazy harsh humps, burying himself deep inside you, you’re sliding against the mattress. the rasp in his throat has you holding onto him tight, unbothered by how unbelievably heavy he is on top of your smaller body.

and sukuna stays like that. face buried in your neck, arms clutching onto you, and brain fried.

“you also smell sweeter,” he mutters. “when you’re ovulating.”

“I don’t. you’re just a freak.”

he buries his nose deeper in your neck, inhaling sharply. “haah fuck, nah you definitely smell good.”

your brain short circuits, cheeks flooding hot as you wiggle underneath him. “you can’t—“

“you humped me in the hot tub.”

your brows scrunch together. “so?”

he licks your neck, “then you can’t blame me for still being turned on by you.” he licks a strip up to your ear, a tingle runs down to your pussy, squeezing around him.

he smirks.

of course he does. and why wouldn’t he? you’re already nudging him to your lips, kissing him again, like you aren’t stuffed with loads of his cum.

“you’re cute,” he mutters between kisses, and even if that makes your stomach flip, your face burn, and your heart skip a beat…you don’t comment on it. you don’t address it. and you sure as shit don’t think about it.

and the simple answer is, he’s kissing you right now and that’s all you want to think about it.

more frat!kuna here

a/n: I’m blaming the grammar errors on you guys for the rush (I also hate proof reading). but I hope u guys enjoyed it. believe me when I say, I was not expecting it to be that freaking long, I just really wanted to write sukuna and reader kinda skinny dipping, without losing their dynamic or doing something super uncharacteristic, so I dragged out the plot. but still I hope u guys liked it!

"There we go," he purred against your ear, and god, you could hear the smirk in his voice, "my pretty little rabbit."

"Sukuna-" You glanced toward the yard where your daughter was currently trying to climb into a bush after a particularly well hidden egg, "she's right there-"

"She's busy." His breath was hot against the shell of your ear, and you shivered despite the warm spring air, "And you know what happens to little rabbits who tease wolves?"

His hand found the hem of your sundress. Fingers brushing your bare thigh -feather light, teasing- before sliding upward with agonizing slowness. The fabric bunched as he went, inching higher, higher, until his palm was dangerously close to the thin cotton of your panties.

Easter fucking Sunday, he thought, thumb tracing circles on your inner thigh, and she's out here looking like a goddamn snack. Sundress. Bare legs. Those stupid cute ears. How's a man supposed to behave?

"Wolves eat them right up," he finished, voice dropping to that low rasp that always made your knees weak.

You could feel his lips hovering just above your neck- so close you could feel the warmth of his breath, the promise of his tongue-

"DADDY! DADDY, LOOK!"

Your daughter came barreling across the lawn, basket bouncing, face flushed with excitement-

And then her foot caught on absolutely nothing.

She went down hard, knees hitting grass, basket tumbling, eggs scattering across the lawn.

Sukuna's eye twitched.

His hand was already off your thigh, body tensing to move-

But before he could take a single step, she popped back up like a spring loaded jack-in-the-box, grass stains on her knees and a golden egg clutched in both hands.

"I'M OKAY!" She barreled up the porch steps like she hadn't just eaten dirt two seconds ago.

Sukuna froze mid motion...

This fucking kid, he thought, eye still twitching, is going to give me a heart attack before she's ten. Takes after her mother. Reckless. Clumsy. Absolutely no self preservation instincts-

"Look what I found!" She held up the large golden egg like it was the Holy Grail, completely unbothered by her spectacular wipeout. "It's the SPECIAL one! The big gold one! It was hidden in the birdhouse and I almost didn't see it but then the sun made it all shiny and-" She paused, tilting her head at you. "Mommy, why are you wearing bunny ears?"

Sukuna's chest rumbled with silent laughter against your back, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders now that his little disaster child was upright and unharmed.

"Because," he said smoothly, finally releasing you and crouching down to his daughter's level, "Mommy's my little rabbit. And do you know what Daddy is?"

She scrunched her nose, thinking hard, "...The Easter Bunny?"

"The big bad wolf." He bared his teeth in a grin that made her giggle instead of flinch- because to her, he was just Daddy, not a monster, not a curse, just the man who scared the monsters and hid golden eggs in birdhouses and carried her on his shoulders when her legs got tired.

"Wolves don't go with Easter, Daddy." She rolled her eyes with all the exasperated wisdom of a six year old.

"You should be a bunny too." She thrust the golden egg into his hands and turned to sprint back into the yard, "I'm gonna find ALL of them before the timer goes off! WATCH ME!"

"Oi!" Sukuna barked, straightening up, "Slow the fuck down before you-"

"I'm NOT gonna trip again, Daddy!"

She made it exactly three steps before her foot caught on the edge of the garden border.

Down she went. Again. Basket flying. Eggs scattering. A spectacular faceplant into the soft grass right beside the birdbath.

Sukuna pinched the bridge of his nose.

Definitely takes after her mother.

"I'M OKAY!" She scrambled up, snatched her basket, and kept running like nothing happened, "THAT ONE DOESN'T COUNT!"

You pressed your lips together, trying desperately not to laugh at the long suffering expression on your husband's face.

"She's fiiiiine," you offered.

"She's a goddamn disaster." But there was no heat in it. Just exhaustion. And underneath that -buried deep where he thought you couldn't see it- pure, helpless adoration.

He turned back to you, "Tonight," he said, reaching out to adjust one of your bunny ears, "when the brats asleep... I'm gonna eat you alive."

"is that a threat?"

"That's a fucking guarantee." He pressed a quick, hard kiss to your mouth -there and gone- then turned toward the yard with a grunt, already moving to shadow his disaster of a daughter before she could break an ankle.

You watched him go, heart still racing, thighs still tingling from where his hand had been.

Across the yard, your daughter grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the fence to help her reach an egg that was "definitely too high up and you're tall so you HAVE to get it Daddy, it's the rules."

He let her.

The thought hits you like a slap. You’ve seen him every day, felt him every night, but somehow you never really clocked it—the way the bulk has crept up on him over the last few months, slow and relentless. Every extra pound of muscle he’s shoved down his throat has turned him into this solid, immovable wall of a man. And now, sprawled out like this, exhausted and heavy, chest still rising and falling in deep pulls, radiating that sharp, clean post-gym heat… it’s like seeing him for the first time. The sheer size of him hits different. Shoulders swallowing half the couch. Thighs spread so wide they force space around him. Everything about him feels bigger, denser, more.

It short circuits your brain completely.

You move before the thought even finishes forming.

You slide between his spread thighs, knees sinking into the carpet, hands gliding up the thick, sweat-hot muscle under the gray fabric. The density under your palms makes your breath hitch. Solid, unyielding, like touching warm stone carved into the shape of a man.

Sukuna’s eyes crack open slowly, heavy-lidded. One dark brow lifts.

“Brat?”

“I want it,” you breathe against his thigh, fingers already hooking into the waistband of his sweats and tugging downward. “Please… let me suck you off. You look so fucking big right now”

Sukuna lets out a low, rough sound, half laugh, half groan, the exhaustion in it doing nothing to dull the filthy edge. “Look at you,” he mutters, voice gravelly and wrecked. “So fucking greedy you can’t even let me breathe first.”

His fingers slide into your hair, not pulling yet, just holding, grounding, while you yank the fabric down far enough. His cock springs free—thick, heavy, flushed dark, already half-hard and twitching from the lingering pump. You make a soft, desperate noise in your throat and lean in, lips parting wide to take the head, tongue swirling slow and wet.

Even if the gym didn’t change this part of him, the sheer size of everything else, the wide shoulders, the dense slabs of muscle, the way those tree-trunk thighs tense under your palms, makes it feel like too much. You push forward anyway, choking yourself on him, spit slicking your chin as you bob, hollowing your cheeks, taking him deeper until your nose brushes the soft skin above the base.

Those massive quads flex hard under your hands, still hot and twitching from the workout, pure bulk and power radiating through the fabric you haven’t even fully pulled down.

“Fuck,” Sukuna rasps, head tipping back against the couch, hips giving the tiniest involuntary roll. “That’s it. Suck your man while he’s still pumped and filthy from the gym. Good little thing.”

You lose yourself in it. Messy, eager, throat working around him, drool dripping, the wet sounds loud in the quiet room. Until his grip tightens in your hair and his patience finally cracks.

Two big hands grip your ass and haul you up in one smooth motion.

Right there on the same couch he just sank into, he flips you onto your back, folds you in half so fast your knees press tight to your shoulders in a deep, ruthless mating press. The cushions dip hard under the combined weight, your hips right on the edge, legs splayed wide, pussy completely bare and dripping for him.

He lines up and pushes in slow. One long, unrelenting slide that doesn’t stop until he’s buried balls-deep.

The stretch feels different now, heavier, fuller. All that new bulk presses down on you like a living wall: thick, sweat-slick pecs crushing against your tits, carved abs grinding slow and hard into your stomach, those massive thighs locking your legs back so tight you can’t twitch. His quads are so huge they swallow the backs of your thighs completely, pinning you open and helpless right there on the worn cushions.

“Fuck,” he rasps, voice low and wrecked as he bottoms out. “Still so goddamn tight even under all this extra mass. Look at you taking every pound I’ve put on.”

He doesn’t ease up. He just fucks. Deep, heavy strokes that drive home with the full weight of his frame behind every thrust. The couch groans and creaks beneath you both. Wet slaps fill the room, skin on skin, relentless. Sweat rolls from his neck and drips onto your cheek, your collarbone. One hand clamps around the back of your knee, keeping you folded. The other slides up to wrap loosely around your throat. Not squeezing, just holding, grounding, letting him lever even deeper.

“You feel that?” he pants, hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles so every new inch of bulk presses you deeper into the cushions. “ Gonna keep you folded exactly like this every damn day after the gym. Right here on this couch until your pussy remembers exactly how big I’ve gotten.”

You’re shaking, nails scraping uselessly down the hard planes of his back, legs trembling in his unyielding grip. The constant grind of his pelvis against your clit is merciless. His sheer size pins you flat, chest crushing yours, breath stolen with every roll of his hips until there’s nothing left but the wet heat and the overwhelming pressure of him.

“Come on,” he growls, voice rough and frayed at the edges even as exhaustion bleeds through. His pace turns brutal, hips snapping forward so hard the couch frame protests with every thrust. “Come for me, brat. Show me how much you love your man getting big.”

You break with a shattered cry, walls fluttering and clamping down around him so tight his rhythm falters for a second. A low, guttural groan rips out of him as he follows—hot, thick spurts flooding you deep, so much it spills out around his cock even while he stays buried inside, still twitching under the weight of his own bulk.

He doesn’t pull out.

He just stays there, folded over you, sweat-slick skin sticking to yours, heavy chest rising and falling against your own. A living wall of muscle keeping you pinned to the ruined cushions.

After a long, hazy moment he leans down and presses a slow, filthy kiss to your mouth, tongue lazy and claiming. Then he rolls his hips once—just once—enough to drag a broken whimper out of you.

“Shower,” he murmurs against your lips, voice wrecked and low. “Then round two.”

"i'll make a deal with you. i'll pierce your heart, sure," he smirks and holds back another cackle "but you must name your first born after me."

"oh my god, no."

"second?"

"no!"

"thi-"

"satoru!" you huff, and he looks down at you with mock offence. "you said anything! how dare you talk to a divine being such as myself so hastily. i have it within my rights to refuse you now, unpleasant girl."

you let out a dissatisfied groan. all the fairytales of the great cupid gojo being a kind and giving soul were definitely all falsities.

"how about i spread your name? every dinner i hold, every ball i host, your name on my tongue to all the important people of this land. how does that sound? good word will do more for you than a banner or my first born."

"hmmm..." he pretends to ponder, then sticks one finger in the air. "okay! you've got yourself a deal. chuck in a tapestry in your master bedroom and i'm sold!"

"i swear to-"

"now, now! no swearing on my good lords name. i will do as you wish, just cross your fingers when you're about to say your vows, and i'll appear right away to seal the deal. yes?"

"yes."

"perfect." he smiles, jumping off the soft grass to hoist himself suspended in the air, flapping his feathered wings.

"i'll be watching!" he calls as he flys into the clouds above, you let go of a breath and tip your head to the sky, hoping and praying to god that this works out.

~

that afternoon you trudge back to your room in the castle, sour from the many fittings for a wedding dress you'd had to endure all day.

as you're about to swing the door open to your room, who other than ryomen is sitting in the centre of your bed.

"and what do you think you're doing here?"

"can i not see my bride to be? i yearn to make us at least friendly before this wedding." he smiles, jumping to his feet and ushering over to you, taking your hand to press a warm kiss to your knuckles.

now, to say you'd never seen him before would be a lie. you'd seen him in portraits sent to your castle from his as a sort of present, and he wasn't bad looking. but, he definitely looked bad looking now that you see him in the flesh. with black ink covering his enter body in tribal patterns, and his dress wear hardly put on correctly, he seemed more like a commoner than a royal prince. he wasn't bad looking, but he was bad looking. hm.. nothing a few classes in etiquette couldn't fix, you supposed.

"i wish to make no such connection with you. i have a plan in mind that doesn't require any of..." you vaguely gesture to his hand holding yours, still. "this."

he sucks in a breath through gritted teeth and lets go of a breathy chuckle.

"they said you'd be hard to swoon, but i'll have you know, i'm quite the gentleman."

he smirks, his strange facial markings bend and move with his skin as his cheeks scrunch up, markings you'd never seen before. he was from a land where people thought marking meant power, and for a man with so many, you'd guess he had quite a lot.

you couldn't say you weren't a little scared of him. after all, he was said to be quite cruel to those who crossed him, earning him the name the king of the cursed.

great choice, dad.

he was bigger than you'd imagined, stronger, too. nevertheless, you naturally wanted to know more about your future husband.

"although i don't think we should bother with formalities, i would like to get to know you better... on a deeper level."

he seems to enjoy that, because he cracks a grin and falls back into your bed. his manners were appalling, but you wouldn't say he was completely un-endearing.

"so would i, princess." he shoves over, then pats a spot next to him on the mattress.

you look from him to his hand, to the spot. sitting on a bed with a man? that's definitely new..

you shook your head and decided that if you were to be reckless, at least it would be with your future man. you slip into the spot, suddenly very aware of his large he is.

"what do you wanna know?" he yawns, leaning back on his arms.

you giggle at the way he was so careless in front of you, and decide that maybe it's time to get rid of the stuck up princess agenda. you mimic him, and hesitantly lean back on your arms as well, (something he finds absolutely adorable).

"i guess i'd just like to know your story, what life was like where you came from." you ask curiosly, "and what's with the markings." you cheekily add.

"oh? we can't be friendly but you'd like to know my life story? cute."

never mind, you were going back to the whole stuck up princess thing.

"why, your attitude is absolutely—"

you're cut off by his finger to your lips, you flush, then quiet down as he starts to answer your questions in full.

he talks for what seems like hours. about his own kingdom, how he grew up, how he got his 'tattoos' (not called markings, apparently.) and you sit and listen, surprisingly. he was an interesting soul with an elaborate story to tell, you were always fond of stories.

he, in turn, lets you talk about your own life. your roles as princess, your favourite maid, your crazy dictator dad.

"he sounds horrible. bet you're glad i'm becoming the new king, huh?"

"i'm not too sure you'll be much better."

"oh shut your— ahem —shoosh."

you muffle a laugh at that, at least he was trying to rid his vulgarity.

you find yourself inching closer to the man as the night grows old, each sentence from his mouth pulls your closer to his being like an ever-pulling magnet.

"cats? what are cats?" you annunciate every letter like a child learning how to speak, and he gawks at you like you'd just killed his, well, cat.

"they're like.... like a cow, but way smaller, and skinnier. and they have a flatter face? sort of more like a rat, really. if you were to smash together a cow and a rat and gave it a skinnier body, then—"

"—you've lost me."

he stops with his mouth wide open, then melts into a smile. "i'll have a cat sent here. just for you, my lady. you must have one... we must have one."

flattering, he'd pay all that money just so you could experience an animal. maybe he wasn't shaping up to be so bad.

"i'd like that."

the dark of night creeps in through the tall windows until the candles are doing most of the work keeping you alight. servants aren't passing by the door anymore and chatter from down the hallway dissipates and draws quiet. not you, nor sukuna remember the dinner you were supposed to attend.

you’re now sitting with your shoulders brushing against one another on the bed, your legs tucked under with skirts creasing and folding beneath you. your crown sits resting on the table, abandoned the second you started settling in properly, and your future king noticed immediately.

“you always ditch it that fast?” he queries.

“mhm, gives me a headache.”

“funny,” he says. “it looks real heavy.”

“it is.”

he seems to lean into you more, and drops his voice a decibel. "when i'm king, i'll have you need not wear it. or, i'll fashion a crown not so hefty."

"what a gentlemen. at this rate, we'll be chummy enough to get married of our own accord."

“now, that wouldn't be so bad, would it?” he smiles.

"suppose not." you reply, nudging his shoulder with your own. he laughs, then pushes you back harder, turning your peaceful chat into a shoving brawl, with each of you taking turns play fighting with one another.

"oi! that hurt!" he squirms as you jab a finger into his chest, and retaliates by grabbing your waist and tickling the sensitive nerves.

"excuse you! that is no place to touch a princess." you halfheartedly scold, and this seems to flip a switch.

he stops tickling, and instead moves to straddle you, pushing you up and trapping you against the head of your bed. you huff a breath in surprise as he so boldly leans down to look you straight in the eye.

"i think you forget a prince holds more weight in the royal hierarchy, my lady. i'd watch your mouth, if i were you."

you're stumped for words, staring at this man as he casually cages you to your own bed, in your own room. the look in his eye is serious, and you're slightly on edge at the potential he had at the moment.

he drops the serious act as soon as he sees that sliver of fear in your expression, bursting out in laughter as he pulls away.

"your reactions are just too good, m' sorry, [name]. i'm just joking around."

you pretend to scoff, turning your head away as to hide the heat radiating from your skin, and he taunts you further.

"gonna have to get used to that, m' afraid. seeing you all embarrassed really does it for me." he chuckles.

god, how could someone be so endearing, yet so annoyingly annoying. you couldn't decide weather or not you liked his constant bipolarness or not.

"i can already tell you're a handful and i've only just met you." you throw at him.

he laughs at that, then lets the silence sit and stew for a while. eventually, your conversation starts back up, and he end up talking some more.

about the food where he’s from, how everything is well spiced and eaten with hands, how his mother used to smack his knuckles when he stole from the pot too early. about the first fight he ever won, the first one he lost, and about the scars he didn’t bother to mark over with tattoos.

you listen to each and every word, becoming more and more interested with each moment he spoke of home.

not once do you interrupt him, roll your eyes. you don’t do the polite nodding thing you were taught, no. you just listen with your chin in your palm and your pretty eyes on him.

“you’re quite a good little listener, aren't you,” he smiles.

“not normally. most other people bore me, is all. it's' a good change.”

that earns you a curious look, then another one of his accomplished smiles.

“good,” he looks from your eyes to your lips. “i’d hate to be like most people.”

hm.

hours pass by, one thing after another. you tell him about sneaking sweets under your mattress as a child, and about the horrible english tutor you made cry a few times. about how you learned to read faster than anyone expected and then hid it because you liked knowing things no one else did in a world where girls were supposed to be illiterate.

that intrigued him. a girl with smarts, that absolutely sucked him in.

now he knew he didn't have to dumb himself down for you like his father had asked him to, in fear of 'scaring the princess off with your need for deeper understanding.' that sounded like a semi-compliment, but nothing from his dad ever was, so he tried his best to stay moderately mid-range.

but now, he was asking you all sorts of weird and wonderful questions. two am hits, and he's just finished listening to you explain why your favourite piece of literature was The Decameron, and not The Romance of the Rose, which you'd justified rather well, he'd admit. maybe you didn't like the same books, but he was definitely fond of your ability to speak your mind and share your own insight, a trait so rare in royal blood of the time.

"i do admire your perspective, although you're wrong all the same."

"uhm. thanks?"

"you're welcome."

when your voice starts to drag out and get all slurred at the ends of your sentences, sukuna has no problem pointing it out.

“you’re tired.”

“i’m fine.”

he shakes his head. “what a little liar.”

you glare at him as he looks as if he's about to stand.

“hey.. stay,” you say, quiet yet firm.

“i wasn’t planning on leaving,” he says just as quietly. "just getting comfortable in my new bed." that last part was cocky, and he shifts until his body is flatter against the bed.

"your new—what?—" you scoff.

but you're shut up real quick when his hand sprawls over your own, intertwining your fingers together like a woven basket. you sigh, but don't pull away from him. you move to lay next to him, your head hitting the soft pillow with about half a meter between the two of you, connected by your interlocked hands.

"good night, [name]."

"good night, ryomen."

you watch as the flickering of candles dance across his cut face, the lines of his tattoos such a perfect contrast in this lighting.

you couldn't possibly sleep, not with a man in your bed, this was all far too foreign. was it normal to feel this hot?

as you're arguing internally on weather or not to close your eyes, one of sukunas opens. “jeez, stop staring and sleep,” he breathily laughs. “i’ll be here for you to oogle tomorrow, y'know. can't exactly disappear.”

you're too flushed to reply, only nodding in response, and squeezing your eyes shut.

now it was his turn to stare.

~

you wake the next morning to find him in the courtyards.

he's got on a new set of strange foreign clothing, his hair's loose, and he's laughing with your guard, toji, like they’d known each other for years. he spots you and straightens up immediately, his expression lightening up like a mask sliding into place.

“morning, princess.”

“you’re still here?”

“that’s usually how the whole 'staying' thing works.”

you huff, but you don’t tell him to go.

he follows you everywhere that day, like a maid would. carrying things when you gesture at them, stepping in when someone annoys you too much about the upcoming wedding prep, and walking at your pace without comment on the way you sort of diddle dally.

not bad, you could get used to this.

by the second day it feels strange when he isn’t immediately nearby you.

where is that man...

you think, strutting about the halls of the castle in a mood at the lack of finance by your side.

just as you're about to round the corner into the grass yards, you're jabbed in the side.

"hey!" you yelp, but you're soon soothed by big arms wrapping around your waist.

"guess who." a deep, raspy voice announces.

"don't you think it's a little early in our acquaintance to be touching me so fondly?" you tut, leaning back into him regardless.

"not at all. in fact, we should touch more." he replies, letting go of your waist but grabbing hold of your wrist; pulling you towards the 'secret garden' you'd shown him yesterday on your stroll.

"and where are you taking me?" you giggle while being dragged. he just shakes his head and pulls you faster, faster, until you're sat on a toppled over log resting atop fluffy grass.

your garden was beautiful. behind a crumbling wall and adorning a central water fountain, the flora and fauna thrived uninterrupted here.

with whistling birds overhead and towering wildflowers blooming from every direction, the sanctuary felt perfectly you. wild and beautiful.

"i admire how well you've kept this place, especially all by yourself without anyone else knowing of it's existence." sukuna chuckles, turning on his heels to take in every angle of the wonderland he'd first seen yesterday.

"hm? you're saying you're surprised i'm competent enough to tend to plants?" you tease, he just clicks his tongue and swivels around to grab a fallen trunk off the floor.

out of his pocket comes a small carving knife, you look at him curiously.

he sits on the grass with a thump, and begins carving at the thick, palm sized piece of wood.

"what are you up to?" you query.

"making my princess a gift. carving is very sentimental where i'm from, my love."

you flush at the name. you'd realised recently that he did that to fluster you, and/or shut you up. either way, it felt nice having someone talk so openly to you without fear of being beheaded by your father if they were to say the wrong thing.

a present, huh? well, it's only fitting you make him something too.

you kneel in a grass patch a few meters away from him, one with daisies spotted in the green. you begin picking, twisting, and tying.

"aw, copying my idea?" he throws over his shoulder at you, winking when you catch his gaze.

"flower crowns are hardly reminiscent of carving." you explain.

this seems to shut him up, because for the next half an hour you two spend the time crafting away, slipping closer and closer until you're sat side by side at the foot of the toppled over log.

once you’ve strung the last flower into place, you look up at the man besides you to find he's already staring, happily. he holds up what he'd been working on, a heart shaped carving with swirls and indentations etched into the surface. such a breathtaking make for a man you only though was all looks and wit.

"for you, my lady." he holds the heart out, waiting eagerly for you to take it.

you smile, and do just that.

you examine each and every orifice of the thing, it was expertly done.

"this is the prettiest thing i've ever seen... you're very talented, ryomen." you compliment, finding the biggest smile plastered across his princely face.

"not quite as pretty as you, love."

okay, you walked into that one.

setting the heart aside, you take one of the daisy crowns from your lap, push a few locks from his face, then rest it softly against his head.

he looks at your hands as you do, fascinated by your gentleness.

"i must say, this one suits me much better than my real one, y'know." he jokes, watching as you remove your crown and replace it with your own flower one.

"i agree. instead of fashioning me a new crown in our future kingdom, we should spend each morning making a daisy one. hm?" you suggest. it was just a throw away comment, really, it was. but the certainty in sukuna's eyes paired with his enthusiastic nod tells you he's planning on doing just that.

"you're a genius." he triumphantly claps, "a hot genius."

"hey, what did i say about being so forward—"

"a hot, sexy, genius!"

~

the next few days follow a similar pattern.

wake up, find sukuna, walk the palace, and bond over anything and everything.

today, five days after meeting, you're speaking of the flowers you'd like at the wedding.

"first i was keen on white roses, but now i think i'd like large daisies... what do you think?" you asked, arm in arm as you both strolled through the front gardens.

"aw, you'd change your mind because of a moment we shared making flower crowns? you sure are cute." he'd tease in his husky voice.

you roll your eyes, nudging him with your elbow, but all he did was pull you in closer by the arm.

"i think that's a wonderful idea. white daisies to commemorate the day we decided to abolish real crowns. quite poetic, i think." he smiles.

"must you always find deeper meaning in everything i say?" you throw back at him, and he lets out a half laugh.

"but of course, i'm nothing if not an over analyser."

"i think the term you're looking for is: paranoia—"

"semantics! anyway." he suddenly stops, pulling a small box from his pocket and turning to face you.

"i've chosen your wedding gift, by the way. i wanted to give it to you on the day, but i'd much prefer if to see you in it now and the days leading up." he announces, chucking you a smirk before pulling you in closer by the waist so you're mere inches apart.

you'd since figured out your future king was physical touches biggest advocate, with his hands wondering all over you whenever he wanted you near.

you blush all the same, your eyes dilating as you peer into his redder ones.

you watch as he opens the small, mysterious box, then let out a gasp at the piece he pulls out.

a necklace made from your preferred rare metal, a delicate heart pendant hanging from the centre that glimmered with gems that refract the rays of sun.

he turns it in his palm, letting you get a closer look. "...so?"

"it's stunning..." you breathe, still in awe at the way it casted diamonds of light across his marked skin.

"i'm glad you like it, since you'll be wearing it until the day you die." he jokes, slinging the clasp open and draping the thin chain over the back of your neck.

"a pretty necklace for an even prettier girl."

you feel the newly fastened gift, pinching it in your fingers and twisting it with care. this felt almost like a peace offering, like this single treasure was the beginning of something a little more than just an arranged marriage.

"i love it, ryomen. but whatever will i get you? i haven't anything prepared."

"give yourself to me and we'll call it even." he winks.

there's that heat in your stomach again...

~

that night, there's no guards stomping past your door, nor is there maids whispering in the hallways. you felt at ease in your quarters.

there's the faint crackle and pop of the fireplace or the occasional owl calling from beyond the open balcony as you’re sat at your vanity, fixing up your hair in slow maneuvers, the thin straps of your silken night gown slipping over your shoulders every time you move.

it’s far shorter than what you’d normally wear, much lighter, too. the fabric's soft against your thighs as you stand to finish the last of your self maintenance.

you catch your reflection in the beautiful wooden vanity and pause. the necklace rests against your chest, the heart pendant glimmering faintly in the candle light, it really was gorgeous.

you're startled when there’s a knock at your door.

you stiffen up for a second, then relax when the knock comes again in a special tune only sukuna had been rapping.

“come in,” you call.

ryomen steps inside, stopping dead in his tracks when his eyes fan over your body. his stare drags from your face down to the cut of your nightgown, then back up again just as quickly.

“i—” he clears his throat with a choppy laugh. “i didn’t realise you were… ah... if you’re uncomfortable, i can leave.”

you sigh, “don’t be ridiculous,” you say, setting your hair brush down. “you’re to be my husband in a matter of days. it hardly matters what i’m wearing.”

his lips twitch upwards into a very small, very cheeky smile.

“hardly matters,” he echoes under his breathe, looking amazed with himself at the vision in front of him.

“are you planning on standing in my doorway all night? it's cold in the hall."

that snaps him out of it, and he shuts the door behind him and walks further into the room, he's a little nervous now, he’s hyper aware of where he’s placing his feet.

"why'd you come, hm?" you question with genuine curiosity, no judgment.

“js' wanted to see you,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. “guess i couldn’t sleep.”

“again?” you tease.

“again.”

you watch him as he approaches your bed, sitting down at the edge of it with a small exhale. he looks less princely and more man tonight.

his eyes flick to your chest, and before you can comment, his hand reaches out, fingertips brushing the heart pendant.

“you’re wearing it,” he says, softer than you’ve ever heard him.

“..of course i am.”

“even to bed?"

“well, it is important to me.”

you try not to coo at his shy expression. you'd reduced the great ryomen sukuna to a pleased, blushing mess.

“i’m glad,” he says with a cheesy smile.

“lay down,” you offer, nodding to the pillows.

he arches a brow, still grinning like a madman. “bold tonight, aren't we."

“mhm, don’t ruin it for yourself.”

he chuckles and stands long enough to shrug off his coat, then the heavier layers of vests and undercoats beneath. you try not to gawk at his newly exposed biceps as he folds the fabrics over a chair, the short sleeves of his undershirt stretching over his thick arms when he moves. he climbs onto the bed, settling on his back with a loud sigh.

“there,” he says. "m' comfortable.”

hm.. should you capitalise on the opportunity? i mean, he’s been bold all week with the teasing, the arm and hand holding, dragging you into lush gardens and corners of the castle.

maybe it’s your turn.

you climb onto the bed and crawl over to him, the skirt of your gown bunching beneath your knees and riding up your pretty thighs. he watches you the entire time with his red eyes turning dark and curious.

“what're you doing,” he asks gently.

“returning the favour.”

you slide up beside him, pressing your body hot against his side and resting your head just below the crook of his shoulder. your hands spider across his chest until they're resting on his pec.

you'd think he'd gone mute by the way he adorably jitters to a sudden stillness. then, after a minute of adjusting to your heat, he whistles. “well. this is new.”

“don’t look so disdained,” you whine.

“i’m not! i'm not. i’m.. impressed.”

“by what?"

“by you.”

you roll your eyes, but you don’t deprive him of this newfound touch.

his arm comes around your back, fingering the silk of your nightgown slowly, then with more conviction when you don’t protest his advances. his fingers thread into your hair, stroking ever so gently along your scalp.

it feels good. you try and fail to suppress a content moan, and he gets choked up at the pretty sound.

“oh wow, did you just—”

“shh.”

he laughs at you quietly and resumes his ministrations.

“comfortable?” he asks.

“mhm.”

“perfect.”

silence settles, but it’s not awkward or anything. your hand taps and scratches against his bulky chest, you're feeling the steady rise and fall beneath your palm with a solemn smile.

“ryomen,” you say.

“hm?"

“if we’re married…”

he tilts his head slightly so he can see you better against his shoulder. “when.”

“when,” you correct. “we need to agree on something.”

“urgh, that sounds serious. i'm having a good time right now.” he jokes, although he knows, that you know, that he loves talking seriously with you.

“it is.”

"go on, then." he insists.

“we have to respect one another,” you say. “fully. if one of us wants something, or doesn’t want something, we listen. no forcing each other and absolutely no weird hidden resentment.”

he does a once over of your face for a few seconds before nodding.

“alright,” he says. “that’s fair.”

“and,” you continue, “if this doesn’t work. if we don’t… if we don’t end up loving each other.”

the words feel all twiddled up and strange in your mouth, “we could see other people,” you finish. “quietly, of course. discreetly.. as long as it doesn’t embarrass the crown or my father.”

you regret saying that as soon as it comes out, but you know some ground rules need to be set before anything gets too serious. and if your current feelings were reciprocated, you'd say it was getting pretty serious.

his hand stops brushing your hair entirely.

“you’d be alright with that?” he asks with an unreadable drawl.

“it would be practical. for the both of us.”

“practical,” he repeats.

you cringe but continue. “i don’t want either of us trapped,” you admit. “it's just... i’ve had enough of that.”

...

“if that’s what you wanted,” he says carefully, “i’d entertain it.”

entertain? you're then reminded that he will in fact be king, and you his mere wife. was this all coming from a place of self righteousness? was this inappropriate to be discussing with someone who would soon hold more power than you? you didn't want to dive into that right now, you had to scope his feelings out a little more.

“and you?” you ask cautiously.

“what, if you couldn’t stand me?” he gives a small huff of laughter. “i suppose i’d have to do the same. quietly, though."

the idea of him with someone else rips your heart clean in two. you hate to picture another girl at his side, laughing at his jokes.. wearing a special necklace he bought her.

god, you really don’t like that.

like a moth to a flame you scoot closer to him shyly.

“hmm?” he murmurs.

“nothing.”

he resumes petting your hair and staring off into the roof littered with paintings of intricate star constellations.

“i don’t want that,” he says after a minute.

“want what?"

“other people.”

you look up at him, “you just agreed to it?"

“i agreed because you asked,” he replies. “doesn’t mean i want it.”

oh, wow. okay.

“i don’t either,” you confess quietly.

his thumb brushes along your temple, slow and thoughtful.

“then we won’t need to if that's what fate wants,” he says, and you nod against him.

fate.

you're pummelled in the face with that stupid word, now flashes of cupid sift thought your mind.

satoru.

goodness, you’d nearly forgotten.

cross your fingers when you say your vows, and he’ll appear. he’ll pierce your heart, then seal the deal.

this marriage had to work out, you had the god of love on your side.

but you begin to wonder, did you really need a divine intervention? was this connection so shallow that you'd need a god to help you fall in love with a man you were sure you'd already fallen for?

you glance at the necklace resting between you, at the carved wooden heart sitting on your bedside table that you'd admired every night since he'd given it to you.

maybe it already was working...

maybe you didn’t need divine interference at all.

you smile to yourself, pressing your cheek more firmly against his chest.

“what’s that look for,” he whispers.

“nothing.”

“hm? but you’re smiling so hard.”

“am i not allowed?”

“you are,” he says, voice softer now. “i guess it just means i’ve done something right.”

you tilt your head up enough to meet his eyes.

“you have,” you admit.

he masks the triumphant smile that almost breaks out with a small smirk.

“careful, keep talking like that and i’ll think you’re falling for me.”

you hold his eyes captive as you answer back. “and what if i already have?”

you got him there, he doesn’t have a witty reply.

his hand cups the side of your face instead, thumb brushing lightly over your cheek.

“then, good,” he mutters quietly.

you close your eyes listening to the badump badump rhythm of his heart beneath your ear, feeling the warmth of him surrounding all of you.

gojo’s arrow will only make this connection stronger, you tell yourself.

it will only enforce what’s already there.

..right?

you hold him a little tighter.. just in case.

~

it's time.

the bells are ringing and floating through the air over the cliff face your wedding was held, white drapes adoring an arch that looked over the views of your soon to be kingdom.

you thought this day would bring stress, hardships, agony for your future. but instead? you can only feel the sheer and utter excitement and hopefulness for what this day means for you and ryomen, the man you'd come to adore.

just before the big reveal, he'd pulled you aside to admire your beauty in his lonesome. his mouth stayed slack as he took you in for the first time.

"holy... wow." he sighed, grabbing for your hand and spinning you around, gawking over every part of the beautiful white dress adorning your body.

"you look.... oh my good lord." he was utterly in awe. a feeling that multiples ten fold when he spots the necklace around your neck.

"had to make sure i wore my favourite pendant." you smiled.

"you're not real... you're a myth, a goddess created by those who wish to see me pathetically infatuated with someone." he whines, shaking his head as he stares at you up and down.

you thanked him after he'd gotten it out of his system, hugging him softly before being ushered off to start the ceremony.

and now here you stand, under the bow of the arch, hand in hand with your ryomen, feeling everything good in the world pulsating through your veins.

but, as the officiate was about to prompt you to say your vows, you feel a presence appear somewhere above you, high in the sky.

he was here, satoru.

you gulp, and weigh out your options.

sukuna stands there proudly, like he's eagerly ready for his long awaited life with you to finally begin.

you wanted him, his love, his support, his guidance thought this marriage. you might of already had it, so what harm could a little push from a divinity do?

you take a deep breath, smiling sweetly at sukuna, then you do it. you twist your fingers over one another as a signal for gojo to pull the arrow back, and shoot it through your heart. the first person you laid eyes on, sukuna, would be the one you'd fall head over hells for and vice versa.

gojo had been waiting patiently, preparing his bow to be shot, checking everything was in proper order. despite being a menace who was severely disliked among all the gods, he did take his craft seriously.

he spots the signal from his place in the sky, then smiles readily to himself. he had a perfectly clean shot, you were in perfect view, this couldn't go wrong.

well, that's was the plan, at least.

as your pointer crossed your middle, you awaited the sting, standing there with your eyes glued to sukuna who was, in his own head, planning where he would take you for your honey moon.

only, said sting never arrived. the only thing you felt was a hard knock to your chest against the pendant that sat flat against your chest..

was this how it was supposed to go? you weren't feeling any different than before...

the only thing that felt out of the ordinary, was the now very watchful eyes of a deity shooting through you from up above. you nervously grit your teeth, peering up quickly to see what the big idea was, and you lock eyes with him, with satoru, who's iris flash a pretty pink before dilating like he'd seen something utterly enthralling.

and he had, you.

because unlike any other time he'd done this before, gojo satoru, god of love, had messed up...

his aim must've been off, or maybe it was the wind? but the arrow had gone off track completely. instead of piercing your heart, it instead hit the sparkling heart pendant hanging around your neck in such a way that it ricocheted off, diverting its path, and darted straight back towards him. though his heart in place of yours.

you stand still, your eyes blown wide with both rage and an unfathomable sense of... love? oh god... was this adoration? it'd seemed the arrow was working in it's full effect.

sukuna squeezes your hand, softly pulling you from your daze to look back into his eyes, exactly like you were supposed to be doing. he mouths a quick, "you okay?" before you nod and smile falsely.

you gulp, then the officiate gives the go ahead to read out your vows.

ryomen softly recounts his first, you to listen, you really do, but all you can focus on is the blooming feeling of immense need to be closer to the man in the sky, the one no one but you could see right now.

your mind was a hazy field, with gojo standing on one end and sukuna on the other, gojo had a rope tied to your wrist and sukuna a thin chain. both felt equally as wrong in a moment like this, what the hell were you supposed to do?

endure. that's what.

there was nothing you could do to stop this wedding, your father wouldn't allow it and nor would the people who needed a new king and queen.

so you bit the bullet, pushing aside the feelings you'd rather not name to spew out the vows you'd spent nights curating.

~

"what's going on?"

the look on sukuna's face genuinely makes you sick to the stomach. you can tell he's confused, distressed, not knowing why the girl he'd poured so much of himself into was acting like she'd rather be dead than with him.

all you want to do is collapse in his arms and tell him everything, that you still love him, that your feeling haven't changed, only now there was another bucketload of affection waiting to be poured all over gojo, some stupid god you never should of spoken to.

"i'm sorry, ryo. i'm just not feeling too good." you lie trying to break away from the grip he had on your wrist, "i... i need a moment." but sukuna’s fingers tighten when you try to pull away.

“a moment?” he spits. “right now?”

people are still trying to mingle with the two of you. the wind is still dragging white fabric against the grass in beautiful wisps and licks of movement. some important officials are standing by waiting to speak with you, and your father stares from across the way at you expectantly. and you’re staring at your husband like he’s some faraway stranger.

“please,” you whisper.

that does it.

he lets go, just drops your hand as if your skin was made of molten lava. the look on his face is worse than anger, much worse than if he were shouting, it’s purely blank shock. his mouth parts like he’s about to say something funny or clever but he just.. can’t.

you scurry away from all the commotion, running as far into the forest that teetered the cliff side as you could.

you bend over with your hands on your thighs trying to make sense of this atrocious mess, trying your best to breathe without thinking about him. hell, about either of them.

“well,” a voice floats down softly from above. “this is… not ideal.”

the rate on which you snap your head up is impressive.

he’s descending slowly with no theatrics and no obnoxious grin. his sizeable white wings folding in on themselves as his boots touch moss and feathers scatter across the grass as he touches down.

satoru looks wrecked. the pink hue in his once blue eyes seems to darken as he gawks at you.

“what the hell did you do?" you spit out harsher than you’ve ever spoken to a god, harsher than you’ve ever spoken to anyone, for that matter.

“i didn’t mean to,” he explains quickly. “i swear to you. the wind caught it, or maybe the angle was off or—”

“you missed. you fucking missed and shot yourself! what kind of a god misses?!"

“technically.. it ricocheted.”

“off my necklace?”

“yes.”

“then why not aim where the jewelry was not?!"

he cringes with absolutely no excuse ready to throw back at you, “i am so, so sorry.”

“sorry?” you staunch toward him. “i'm married, satoru. i just stood in front of my entire kingdom and vowed myself to a man i—” you groan, your hands flying to massage your aching temples, “—i love.”

oof, that stung. he thought.

you start to feel a horrible and magnetic pull towards gojo, your heart feels so full of adoration yet so empty of any real love that it hurts to breathe. you know he feels it too, the idiots basically twitching wanting to reach out and pull you against his body.

“fix it,” you demand. “undo it, this instant!"

you grow angrier when you watch him gulp.

“i can’t.”

“what.”

“it’s not a simple enchantment,” he pleads with you to understand. “it’s not a ribbon i can just, untie. it can't, i can't—” he stops himself before he spills any godly lore you're not supposed to know about.

“i don't care, break it!" you snap. “you’re cupid, for gods sake. you meddle with love, just.. just meddle again!"

he looks at you like you’ve just asked him to rip out his own heart.

“there are only two ways to sever it,” he says quietly.

you cross your arms as if to say, 'go on.'

“either one of us dies.” he starts.

“that’s not funny.”

“i’m not joking.”

your head starts to throb.

“and the second, you need another love,” he sighs. “one strong enough to overwrite this one. sort of like... a love confession, a true one. all your feelings laid bare for someone else, and they must feel the same. if the heart chooses something greater than magic, the arrow loses it's hold.”

you laugh pitifully, “so i just… fall in love with someone else.?

“no,” he says sharply. “you're already in love with someone.”

you shake your head. “yes, but, what if he doesn't—”

“he loves you,” gojo says, and it’s the most miserable you’ve ever seen the giddy god. “that’s why this hurts the way it does. if he didn’t, you wouldn’t be fighting this so hard, and my love wouldn't feel like it's being shared with someone else.” he exhales and forces his hands to drop.

“i don’t have anyone else,” he says bitterly. “there is no other love waiting to confess to me. i am the one who shoots the arrows, i don’t get shot.”

“clearly you do.”

he almost cracks a smile but decides now's not the time.

“it has to be you,” he says. “you have to confess to him, and he has to return your feelings, that’s the only thing that can get rid of this.”

your mind flashes to sukuna’s stunned face when you pulled away/

god.. that confusion, you feel sick.

“and if i can’t?” you ask solemnly.

“then i will live like this,” he says. “in love with a married woman. watching from the sky, i guess."

the earnest tone in his speech almost pulls you into his arms, you want so horribly bad to run off with this god, but he steps away before your otherwise influenced mind can make that decision.

“go,” he says roughly.

“you’re telling me to leave?”

“yes.”

“even though—”

“yes,” he snaps, wings flaring up once before flattening out. “even though every part of me wants to keep you here with me.”

your heart pounds in your ears.

“i didn’t mean for this, i meant to give you peace. i meant to give you love. not… not this.”

“i do love him,” you sigh.

gojo nods.

“i know.”

“and this—” you gesture weakly between you “—this isn’t real.”

his eyes soften as that familiar smile ghosts his pink lips.

“it’s real,” he says. “it’s just not chosen.”

you step back, then force your feet to move.

“stay away,” you tell him.

he nods once.

then you turn, and you run.

again.

back through the branches, the torn silk from your dress and scattered petals from your own veil, back toward wedding bells and your groom. and when you break the edge of the trees, you find sukuna standing offside watching over the cliff, away from the guests and the ruckus.

you march straight to him and grab his white sleeve.

“come with me.”

when he realises its you, it seems like he'd like to smile on instinct but refrains. "sure."

you drag him away, down the edge of the cliff, away from your family, the guards and your father’s brutal stare. far, far away until it’s just the wind and ocean below as you stand embarrassed in front of ryomen.

he pulls his arm free once you’re alone.

“talk,” he sighs.

you look up at him softly. “i need you to listen,” you start. “and i need you not to interrupt me, okay?”

"okay."

...

"i went to see another man."

“what- who?” his face goes red and he rubs his neck nervously.

“i said don't interru-" you sigh, "never mind. i met with cupid.”

that gets his attention and his brows draw together.

“before the wedding,” you continue quickly. “two weeks ago. i sought out his skill, i asked him to shoot me.”

sukuna goes very still.

“l-look.. i didn’t want to grow old resenting you,” you say. “i didn’t want this to be some stupid duty and politics based marriage. i couldn’t stand spending the rest of my life with a loveless bond and separate beds. i thought if i could force my heart to love you, if i could guarantee it, then everything would be so much easier for the both of us.”

"but?"

"but i was so, so wrong." you admit, "i didn't need that cocky gods help. i didn't need him to come and tie our hearts together. i came to find that over our time spent with one another, i love you without any sort of divine intervention."

he contemplates that statement for a good minute, then adds his two cents with a calculating stare. "look, that's sweet and all... but if you got the guy to shoot us, why did you suddenly disappear and seem like loving me was the last thing on your mind? did he not go through?"

you groan softly and drag both of your hands down your face, still careful as to not ruin your makeup any further. "oh, he went through with it all right... but he messed up. his arrow ricocheted off of the pendant you gave me and re-routed to pierce him instead."

your husbands pretty red eyes widen with shock as he runs his fingers over the stubble of his chin. "that's... convenient. and so fucked."

you let go of a huffed laugh, "tell me about it." your face returns to it's longing look as you continue "look, ryo... even after i was hit, i couldn't shake this other feeling in my head. there was my new fondness for gojo up there, sure. but alongside it was the immense love i felt for you."

you take a breather and see his expression isn't one of anger or judgment, but one of care and understanding. this prompts you to spit out what you've been itching to say.

"i love you, ryomen. so much so that not even cupids dumb, divine powers could make me forget the bond we'd formed in such little time... please, won't you forgive me for trying to force something that was destined to be there regardless..."

he doesn’t let you get the last word out, he grabs your face so you stop talking. “look at me,” he says, and you oblige. “so.. you went to a god because you were scared you wouldn’t love me.”

you gulp. “yes.”

“then you fell in love with me anyway.”

“…yes.”

“then the god fell in love with you.”

you wince. “mhm.”

his mouth twitches despite himself. “that’s insane.”

“i’m aware."

“did you love him?” he asks, and that’s the question that really matters right now.

you shake your head immediately. “no.”

“don’t answer fast just because you think it’s what i want to hear, [name].”

“i don’t love him,” you repeat. “what i feel for him is fake. it’s so intrusive..”

he watches your eyes closely for any kind of deceit.

“you feel it right now?” he asks.

“…yes.”

“and you still came back to me.”

“well, of course i did,” you say offended. “where else would i go?”

he cracks a small grin at that, then he pulls you closer to him by your shoulders.

“say it again,” he asks.

“say?...”

“that you love me.”

you don't even try to hesitate.

“i love you, ryomen.”

his hand moves to your waist firmly, “do you know when i started loving you?” he asks quietly.

you shake your head.

“the first night,” he says. “when you tried to pretend you weren’t interested in my stories but asked a million questions after each time i spoke.”

you go shy and purse your lips in embarrassment.

“n' when you put that stupid flower crown on my head,” he continues. “and acted like it was some obligation instead of just wanting to see me wear it.”

you open your mouth to deny it but he cocks a cocky brow.

you shut it..

“when you told me we could see other people,” he adds, voice lowering. “and then got jealous at the idea before i even finished agreeing.”

you glare weakly. “shut up.”

“it was adorable, you being all territorial.”

you cross your arms. “i was not.”

he steps into your space fully now, uncaring of how close you are teetering to the cliff’s edge.

“you were,” he says simply. “and i adored it.” his thumb hooks under your hot chin, lifting your face.

“i love you,” he returns your notion from earlier. “and it's not because you’re a princess or that i'm being forced to. i love you because you’re clever and stubborn and just... so sweet.”

don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

“and if some lovesick idiot in the sky thinks he can compete with that,” he adds, glancing upward briefly, “he’s welcome to try.”

despite everything, you laugh and it breaks the tension clean in two.

“it’s not a competition,” you giggle.

“mm, it is to me.” he leans his forehead against yours with a cheeky grin. “does he know how you snore?” he asks.

you gasp. “i do not!”

“does he know you hide sweets under your mattress still.”

“you're so annoying.”

“does he know the exact face you make when you’re about to argue.”

you squint at him.

“that one,” he says immediately.

your laugh turns shaky with the tears that sting at the corners of your eyes.

“you’re mine,” he says with a nice sense of certainty. “and i'm yours. at least, i'd hope you'd think so after choosing me over that sky prick.”

“of course i do,” you whisper.

“yeah? say it properly.”

you frown. “i just did, dummy."

“no,” he says. “not ‘i love you.’ tell me you choose me.”

you inhale, and that annoying pull towards the sky tugs at your heart again, faint and ever so insistent, but you ignore it.

“i choose you,” you say.

his mouth somehow pulls into an even larger smile, “good.”

then he kisses you tenderly, pouring every ounce of need and want and pure love into your being. you kiss him back with the same passion, and like a rubber band pulled too tight, the string that was connecting you to someone in the sky was broken. the second tether that didn’t belong in your mind loosens and dissolves like mist in bright sunlight.

“…it’s gone,” you pull away breathless.

“what is?”

“the feelings i had for... y'know."

the air of complete and utter smugness that brushes his face is laughable. “so, i beat a god,” he says. “embarrassing for him.”

you scoff. “that’s what you took from that?”

“what else am i meant to take from it. you chose me, sky boy lost. sounds pretty cut and dry to me.”

you smack his broad chest but he barely flinches.

“i was going through it, asshole,” you mutter. “i thought i ruined everything.”

“you kinda did,” he says sternly.

your heart drops, then he grins. “ruined his chances.”

urgh, you hate him.

“you’re insufferable,” you mumble.

“and yet,”

he cups your face with the big pads of his thumbs brushing under your eyes where your makeup is starting to smudge, and he kisses you again.

“you look wrecked.” he says after pulling off.

“i chased a cherub through a forest in heels.”

“mm, that tracks.”

he pulls the loose pieces of veil off your shoulder and flicks a petal out of your hair.

“you’re still so unfairly pretty,” he adds casually. “even when you look tussled.”

“very romantic.”

“i try.”

he grabs your necklace, rolling the chain between his fingers, "crazy how this little thing helped us out in the end. i'd much rather be naturally attracted to you."

"mhm, best gift i've ever gotten. and i've gotten a lot of gifts."

you both laugh sweetly and intertwine your hands.

"well, cupid aside, we're married now." your husband wriggles his eye brows. "and i, for one, can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

"yeah? well, so am i. very excited, in fact." you reply just as just.

and you do,

you spend the rest of your days rejecting the heavy crowns your father likes to polish and parade around. they sit in bejeweled glass cases somewhere in the palace collecting dust. you both make and wear the flower ones in place, just like you'd promised. the lopsided ones you weave badly and shove onto his head while he complains about looking ridiculous, but still, he never takes them off until the petals start falling apart.

you rule side by side, not from separate thrones but from the same side of the long table, knees knocking playfully under the polished wood while advisors pretend not to notice.

you both steal sweets from the kitchen even though you don’t have to hide it anymore. you still sneak them under the mattress out of old habit, and he still steals them every time and eats one just to see that annoyed look on your little face.

at night there are no weird separate chambers, god no. sukuna would never stand for that. you're curled into him each and every time as he holds you tenderly.

on anniversaries he pretends to forget, just to see you get all crazy and dramatic about it. then, not even a minute later, he hands you some over the top gift and showers you in affection.

"i could never forget the day i married the girl of my dizziest day dreams."

"you're so corny."

"give me that back."

sometimes you catch yourself thinking about divine love arrows and how close everything came to crashing down in the wrong direction. but he always notices when you get that kind of sad.

“don’t think about that shit, sweetheart,” he says, nudging your chin up.

“i’m not.”

“you are.”

you sigh and rest your forehead against his shoulder. “i’m just glad i could break it.”

“hm, well. it was always gonna be me,” he smirks.

years pass, and flower crowns wilt and get remade. the forest becomes your special place, the towering cliff where you'd spent the most important hours of your life. people tell stories about the courageous king who could've fought a god, and the queen who outran one.

one evening, when you're both settled, you sit with him on that same cliff. the ocean roars and bellows below as the moon shines in full, your crown made of small white blooms.

“still choosing me?” he asks, not looking at you, but the sky.

“every day,” you answer.

he smiles.

“good, because m' not giving you back.”

A/N: this was supposed to be for v'day but we both just couldn't get our parts out LMAO anywaysss be sure to check out rie's part when her's comes out! collab m.list