°~The saints can't help me now~°

Gojo Satoru had endured many trials and tribulations as the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Being cursed and sealed were practically part of the job.

He just hadn't expected to end up being cursed and sealed in such a unique and perverted way.

Regaining consciousness to find that he was trapped inside of a sex toy in some remote warehouse had been…upsetting, to say the least. Satoru couldn't recall exactly how it had happened. The last thing he remembered was fighting Ryomen Sukuna in a battle to the death.

Actually, Satoru had expected to die in that battle. Maybe he did, and this was the universe balancing out his past life as the richest, sexiest, strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Not that the theory made much sense. He definitely still had his Six Eyes, a veritable blessing considering his current form had zero real eyes. It was strange because he could still sort of sense things, just not with the acuity that he had been able to with a human body.

Taking that into account, it probably was some kind of fucked up, lewd, Prison Realm situation.

Luckily, Satoru had trained for this.

Being alone in the dark for what was conceivably eternity was fine with him as long as Sukuna wasn't loose killing everybody he cared about. Satoru could rest easy in his silicone shell knowing that he had done what he had set out to do. It was almost peaceful, like he really was dead.

At least, it had been peaceful…until some dickhead took his box and threw it (with notably excessive force) into the postal system.

Getting flashbanged by the overhead light in your apartment was almost as annoying as the swirl of disappointed energy on your face.

What was worse, however, was the ominous number hanging over your head.

500

Whatever that meant.

"Blue?" You muttered. "That wasn't even an option."

Satoru rolled his metaphorical eyes. What kind of weirdo doesn't like blue?

He could actually feel your touch, although the sensation wasn't tied to any identifiable part of his body. Still, after years of near-constant Infinity, it was admittedly nice to actually feel the warmth of someone's skin.

It was only when you began to carry him to your bedroom that reality sunk in.

Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer, had been reduced to a single woman's cheap rose toy.

Damn.

At least you seemed cute.

Given that he had never been a rose toy before, Satoru wasn't exactly sure how to behave. He wasn't particularly happy with his situation either—Satoru had stopped having meaningless hookups years ago.

He was still kind of trying. Sort of. At least as much as he would if he was pressed against any stranger's genitals. It didn't help that he kept getting distracted. There was something oddly familiar about your cursed energy, something that kept pulling at his attention while he was trying to figure out how to vibrate.

That only made your frustration with his 'malfunctions' more infuriating.

"I knew I shouldn't have trusted such a sketchy site." You groaned. "I guess it was stupid hoping for something powerful. I should just toss this thing in the garbage."

As it turned out, an eternity in a landfill was actually a pretty good motivator.

It definitely had nothing to do with your implication that Satoru was weak.

Satoru got to work, kicking himself into high gear. He still wasn't used to his body being like this, but a little imagination seemed to go a long way. It was just like eating pussy. Almost. There was definitely a suction element to it.

And he actually got the hang of it, feeling a little smug when you started to whine and seize up. Sure, he would have preferred some 'Ohhh~Gojo~!' or at least a 'thank you', but he was trying to temper his expectations.

You came pretty quickly, all things considered, soaking what Satoru imagined would have been his face if he was a man. Usually an encounter like this would have left Satoru feeling profoundly empty. While he certainly wasn't thrilled about his circumstances, there was a strange sense of accomplishment blooming within him.

Maybe that would kick in soon, though, because you were about to drop him in the top drawer of your nightstand. Satoru found himself conflicted. He had been resigned to the darkness before all of this, but now that he had other options…well, he was starting to hope you might forget to put him away sometimes.

It was just before you closed the drawer that Satoru caught a glimpse of something odd. The number floating over your head had changed.

499

Fuck.

Satoru felt what might have been his heart sink. If his hunch was correct, he wasn't getting back to being human any time soon, and the journey was looking to be anything but quick and simple.

This woman better be horny.

Your rose toy was more effective than anything you could have ever hoped for.

You'd had a bit of a rough start, but once you figured out how to use the thing, it had resulted in a quick trip to the most absolutely bananas, batshit insane, mindblowing orgasm of your life. The rose toy was a godsend, and while you never did figure out how to try all the different settings, the one the toy was stuck on did the job just fine. It was hard not to think about it while you went about your business that day, your mind wandering back to your rose toy over and over again.

You couldn't wait to use it again…and maybe once or twice more after that.

It had been a crackpot theory at first, but the number ticked down every time Satoru made you climax, and as that number got lower, Satoru began to feel more and more like himself. He had become better at sensing his environment, although most of the time there wasn't much of anything to sense inside your nightstand.

Maybe it was a curse, or perhaps Satoru had accrued some kind of sex debt he wasn't aware of…

Regardless, it seemed that the strongest sorcerer was stuck as a rose toy for the time being.

Sometimes it was difficult to not resent you. Objectively, Satoru knew that it (probably) wasn't your fault he had ended up like this, but knowing that his being freed hinged on how frisky you were feeling made it difficult to not feel impatient when you weren't in the mood.

Most of the time you were consistent. Satoru could expect you to use him before bed, and maybe a little extra on the weekends or if you were feeling stressed during the week. He tried to make it good for you, not because he cared about how you felt, but rather to entice you into going another round.

However, after a few months Satoru felt that he had really gotten to know you, and he started to feel a little invested in your pleasure. It was him doing all of this for you, after all. As the orgasm debt went down, Satoru began to get more sensation in his 'body', and as a result, he started feeling unusually aroused by your sessions together.

Satoru was fairly certain that it wasn't possible for him to cum like this, so essentially he was being edged continuously. He was kind of into it though; he wouldn't have been Gojo Satoru if he didn't have a complicated relationship with restraint and denial. It almost felt intimate, like you were teasing him with his eventual release.

That release being freedom of course. Satoru wasn't expecting you to get him off after he magically emerged from your rose toy, or whatever bullshit would happen when this weird curse was finally broken. It would probably freak you out enough for there to suddenly be a man between your legs; Satoru didn't need to make it worse by creeping you out immediately after.

But it was hard to not fantasize about it, especially when he already knew so much about that version of you.

How easy it was for him to get you wet, the way you looked when you were right on the edge, the little sounds you made when you got close and the way they disappeared entirely when he really made it good for you…

Satoru wasn't even halfway through the debt when he finally realized that things were going to be much more complicated than he had initially expected.

He liked you. A lot.

Satoru couldn't help misinterpreting your attachment to him as something more than a woman's affection for modern convenience. At times, he found himself deliberately fantasizing about being in your bed as more than just a masturbatory aid…although there were plenty of times that he considered still being your masturbatory aid, but as a man instead of a rose toy.

His delusions only became worse when you took him on vacation with you.

Satoru could sense the mix of embarrassment and stubborn defiance coming off of you when you were pulled aside specifically because he set off the scanners at the airport.

"No, you can't take it—" You said firmly. "What are you trying to imply? It's clearly my sex toy."

Hearing you call him your sex toy may or may not have made Satoru nearly start accidentally vibrating right there in the agent's gloved hands.

As time went on, seeing the number hanging over your head go down became less about being free of his plastic prison, and more about being able to have you for real. It might have just been the continuous edging, but Satoru was becoming obsessed with the idea of taking you out on a date before bringing you home and absolutely railing the shit out of you. While Satoru wasn't opposed to the romance of missionary or the animal experience of taking you from behind, what he was really craving was throwing your legs over his shoulders and looking directly into your eyes while he sank himself all the way inside your cunt.

He would settle for just about anything if you called out his name though.

You loved your rose toy. Your attachment to it might have even been a little unhealthy, but it didn't matter because you didn't see a therapist, so there was no one with real credibility who could tell you that.

None of your friends believed you when you told them that it literally never needed to be recharged. Everyone you had recommended it to had followed the same link but received something decidedly lackluster. Searching online yourself had produced no explanation either.

Crazy or not, you had gotten it into your head that your rose toy was special.

Your friend, and the only medical professional you planned on speaking to about it, Ieiri Shoko, was the sole person who heard you out about it.

"Maybe it's cursed." Shoko sighed, taking a drag of what must have been her six or seventh cigarette that evening. "You could have it exorcised—I know a guy."

"And risk ruining the best thing I've ever owned?" You scoffed. "No thanks, I think I'll take my chances."

You shook your head. Whatever was up with your rose toy, it definitely didn't feel like a curse.

Satoru's days started to blur together, an endless cycle of darkness and pleasing you. His most exciting days outside of the occasional weekend trip were the times you forgot to put him back in your nightstand, and he wasn't exactly proud of all his time spent watching you sleep.

Whether or not he sometimes vibrated in the middle of the night to wake you up in hopes that you would use him to put yourself back to sleep…well, that was between him and the theoretical sex toy god.

It was just after the counter over your head hit double digits that something at work started to really stress you out, and you began using Satoru at such a rate that he actually started to become a little concerned. He felt for you, really identified with the feeling of having the world on his shoulders.

Sure, there was a big difference between end of quarter pressure and the literal entire world counting on you, but Satoru empathized all the same. You would feel better soon enough anyway—Satoru had plans to really help you relieve your stress once that number over your head hit zero.

That had been the plan…until your work troubles became so severe that you stopped using Satoru entirely.

It was a predictable spiral. Your life had gotten out of control, first to a manageable degree, and then to an absolutely unmanageable one. Your typical methods were starting to feel a little excessive, so you decided to give your poor rose toy a break, and things had only become worse from there.

You hadn't meant to completely abstain—it just happened.

Truthfully, you would have preferred to get back to your routine, but you had some kind of mental block. The idea of getting yourself off was in your head almost constantly—you just couldn't bring yourself to actually do it.

The pressure at work got so bad that you decided to try something different. It would be a drastic change, but it might help you kick-start your usual habit. You felt weirdly bad about it, like you were doing something wrong by buying yourself a new toy, but it was the only thing you could think of trying.

Frankly, a nineteen inch dildo was excessive, but honestly it was the absurdity of it that really cheered you up. You had found the silly thing on the same sketchy website that you had purchased your rose toy, so you had unreasonably high hopes about how it would work out.

The package came fairly quickly, a blessing considering you really needed to get your hands on it while you still had the motivation to try it out.

It was just as ridiculous as it sounded. Massive, thick, and surprisingly lacking in floppiness for its length, you practically skipped all the way to the bedroom with your new monstrous, light pink dildo and complimentary bottle of lube in hand.

Satoru knew what was happening as soon as you opened the front door—he just didn't want to believe it.

You had been giddy all day, happier than Satoru had seen you in a few weeks. The number 10 floating above your head had been taunting him the entire time, and he had foolishly allowed himself to feel hopeful right up until the moment you brought that infernal thing inside.

A new sex toy. A massive dildo, one you seemed to be completely enamored with, one that had an unmistakable, malevolent presence.

Satoru wouldn't have believed it if it weren't for his own situation.

In your hands, your upsettingly eager hands, was the one and only King of Curses.

Your new dildo was Ryomen Sukuna.

man idk either