#sukuna

Gojo might have flowers delivered to your door and fuck you when he wormed his way into spending the night with the excuse of helping on the night shift with Umi, but he hadn't been there before.

Not for half your appointments. Not for your labor.

God, if it hadn't been for Geto, he would've missed her birth.

He had been the one you met first. The one you knew better before his best friend went and knocked you up. The entire reason you even showed up to that party, chasing a stupid crush you were sure wouldn’t even notice you.

But he wasn’t the one you ended up sleeping with - or the one whose name was on the birth certificate.

"You deserve a night for yourself," Geto coaxed, and you knew that he was right. That you couldn't be there for her if you couldn't take care of yourself. Or let someone else help you do it.

Besides, wasn't it half Gojo's fault she existed anyway?

Maybe he’d worn the wrong condom size, but you were the one too stubborn to ask him to pay for a Plan B after it broke, clinging to your stupid pride. Too embarrassed to even face him after you hooked up until you absolutely had to, showing up to his frat house expecting him to shoo you away to get an abortion and slam the door in your face.

Perhaps if he had, you wouldn't feel the hints of guilt creeping in that you were sitting across from his second-in-command now, letting him say your name in that suave voice of his and tell you how pretty you looked in a dress that didn't quite fit your tits anymore.

Not that Geto seemed to mind, judging by the way you caught his stare drifting down to them no matter how chivalrous he was attempting to present himself tonight.

"It's just weird being away from her for this long," you shrugged your shoulders self-consciously, pulling back your hand to pick at the paint on your nails that was already flaking off despite the fact you'd done it only a few hours before your date.

You dropped Umi off with Gojo earlier, but he'd never watched her this long on his own either.

Would it start to become a more common thing? Afternoons or nights you swapped her so the other could go out and date around?

Despite Gojo swearing he only wanted to make this work with you, you had an incredibly difficult time picturing the campus's favorite playboy not pouring body shots on pretty girls all those Friday evenings he attended parties for his 'frat duties'.

You were sure that was just code for fucking other sorority girls and playing condom roulette to see if your daughter would get a half-sibling.

"She'll be okay," Geto reassured you, deliberately avoiding broaching who, exactly, was watching her right now.

That was the one topic the two of you tended not to discuss.

You wondered if it bothered him at all. Made him feel like shit when he held Umi and decided he'd rather be the stepdad instead of a supportive uncle figure.

Truthfully, you still couldn't understand why he decided you were worth fracturing his friendship with Gojo for.

If he had been courting you a year and a half ago, you probably would’ve been over the fucking moon. Thrilled that someone like him wanted you, but you simply weren’t the same girl.

It hadn’t slipped past you that all of Gojo's friends suddenly seemed to want you after he had you.

"Geto," you swallowed, unsure how to broach any of the thousand worries floating through your head as you worked up the nerve to bring up what had been looping through your head since he first started carving his own spot in your life for him. "You know Gojo will be pissed if he knows what we're doing right now."

"You didn't tell him?" He asked, amusement glinting in his dark eyes as you flitted your stare down to the tiny print on the menu below.

"You don't care?" You returned the question, sighing as you reluctantly looked back up at him.

"Do you want to be with him?" Suguru pressed, but you could tell be the curve of his smirk that he thought he already knew the answer, he just wanted to hear you say it.

Being with Gojo had never been a part of your previously well-thought out life plan. You had him pegged from the moment you saw him at a frat party your friend dragged you to during your first year here, surrounded by beautiful women and yes men, alcohol being poured in his pretty mouth. The kind of spoiled, stuck-up prick who breezed through life like they were used to winning first place just for existing. Handed the world on a silver platter.

And now he thought you were a prize he deserved simply because he got you pregnant.

But still, you weren't about to just make it easy for Geto either.

Not when you didn't even know if he really liked you, or the idea of stealing something from under Gojo's nose.

"Why do you want to be with me?" You returned his question rather than answering it, arching up an eyebrow and waiting for his response.

Even though you appreciated his help, it wasn't like you needed your support system of frat bros hanging around if all they wanted was to get in your panties.

Before he could reply though, a baby began to cry, and your head snapped up, scanning the restaurant as if it could somehow be yours, the ache in your breasts returning with a vengeance, a lot fucking harder to ignore when your tits were already confined in the tight dress you'd chosen tonight.

Maybe it was just how much you were missing her, your brain playing tricks on your ears, but it really did sound like her too, your heart squeezing and wrung dry as you glanced from table to table trying to spot where the baby was.

Wincing as you tried to readjust the strap of your dress, swallowing hard and cursing yourself for not bringing a pump or expressing the milk before you left your apartment, knowing that you'd probably have a clogged duct to deal with later. But before you could spot the baby, your waitress was returning, a practiced smile plastered on her face as she looked directly at Geto instead of you.

Probably sizing up the fact that a guy like him was a bit out of your league, or that this was a first date as she leaned over to his side and grinned at him, "Have we made up our minds?"

"I think we'll just get our food to-go," Suguru returned a polite smile to her, and a surge of panic spiked in your chest until his palm slid over yours with silent reassurance, his eyes narrowing as he slyly stole a peek at your chest like he knew why you were squirming before clearing his throat. "Baby's waiting for us back home."

The waitress's face deflated almost instantly.

Wrongly assuming that the two of you were more than just something casual. Thinking that the baby belonged to him.

"Oh, sure," she nodded numbly, regaining her composure. "What will it be?"

He ordered for both of you, and you just shuffled in your seat, caught somewhere between relief that he was freeing you from an hour and a half of discomfort and disappointment that your date would be ending like this.

But perhaps it was for the better.

Maybe it was a sign that this wasn't going to go anywhere.

And when she walked away with reassurances that she'd bring it out as soon as possible, you were about to apologize, but he just squeezed your hand as you started to softly say his name, "Geto-"

"How many times have I asked you to call me Suguru?"

You wished he didn't disarm you so effortlessly. Stalling your excuses with just a single look, with a simple motion of his thumb over your knuckle as he treated you like you were his girlfriend.

"Once the food comes out, I can go take care of you," he promised, and it wasn't until you were walking out to the car that it struck you how serious he was about that.

"You know, you don't have to-" You started, glancing down at the way he was still holding your hand in the parking lot, his fingers tightly gripping your hand and keeping you glued to his side as you tried to sound more collected than you really were. "I can just pump at home or-"

"I thought you liked it when I helped," he slyly said, teasing you in that soft voice of his, mouth curling up when your face flushed.

So what if maybe you let him get rid of your clogged ducts a couple times when Gojo was busy with work or class?

His big hands were good at it, thick fingers massaging and working the breast tissue as his lips latched on to you.

Besides, you liked the way Geto looked at you, even if it sort of scared you. The intensity in his stare, how he studied you like he was interested in every detail. How he spoke to you like you were something soft to be cradled, not just sloppy seconds or someone’s leftovers. The way he listened, his head tilted to the side as he nodded along with patience you’d never really received before.

You didn't need anyone.

Not Gojo. Not Geto.

Not even Sukuna, even if he was debatably the best when it came to helping with her or soothing her when she started to wail.

You could do it on your own.

But something about Suguru made you feel like it might be okay to be taken care of too.

“You know you can find someone better,” you bluntly blurted out as he held the car door open for you. He stopped, squinting down at you as you slid into the passenger seat.

Someone without stretch marks or, y’know, an entire baby with another man. Someone who would have all the time in the world to worship him without wanting or needing all the things you did.

“We need to work on your self-esteem,” he remarked, arching up an eyebrow with a sigh as he nodded towards your seatbelt to remind you to buckle up.

And before you could retort back that he hadn’t disagreed, he was shutting the door and walking back around to his side.

Like he could somehow anticipate what you were preparing to say, his mouth had already parted when he got in too, “If you want me to tell you how much I like you, all you have to do is ask.”

Suguru knew exactly how to shut you up.

And five minutes later, he had your dress pulled down, both breasts freed and exposed as he groped and squeezed and sucked you dry. Thick fingers dimpling your skin as he sank them in deep, his lips wrapped around your sensitive nipple and greedily drinking up every ounce of milk you leaked out.

Tongue dragging back over the peaked buds whenever any escaped, your fingers lacing through his dark hair as you tilted your head back and scrunched your eyes shut. Trying not to moan at the way he was holding you, one arm slipped around your back to pull you closer as he leaned across the center console to suck on your swollen breasts.

The to-go boxes half-forgotten in the backseat, the radio playing some slow, soft song as he groaned into your nipple, his sharp teeth grazing over it to send a sharp shudder through your body.

Glancing up at you with delight glimmering in his stare, possessively pulling you in as he popped off your chest.

“You’re wasted on Satoru."

And even though he didn’t say it, you could feel it.

Geto thought it should’ve been him.

ꕤꕤꕤ

Gojo wanted to bang his head against the steering wheel until the air bag went off.

Maybe if it broke his nose, he could get enough sympathy points from you that you’d stop seeing Suguru. And he’d never have to see his best friend sucking on your breasts from across the parking lot.

Umi was asleep in her car seat in the back, leaving him to his own embarrassing thoughts as he forced himself to turn the key in the ignition. To start the car after he completely and utterly failed the mission he should've never gone on in the first place.

You'd maim him if you knew he was spying on you with Suguru. Maybe accuse him of being a creep and somehow think even less of him than you already did.

And despite how much it fucking sucked, he forced himself to pull out of the parking lot and leave you there with your tit in Suguru's mouth, feeling like a moron for thinking tonight would ever end any differently.

Suguru was a good guy.

Didn't have the reputation he did. Was quiet where he was loud, soothing where he was brash. Wouldn't make you wonder where he was or what he was doing or who he'd been with before.

Of course, you'd choose him.

Gojo guessed he should just be grateful you'd have to at least spend the next eighteen years co-parenting with him. Attending parent-teacher conferences and planning birthdays and holidays.

But even when he made it back to your place, warming up a bottle to feed Umi, watching her big blue eyes sleepily blink up at him as her chubby little fingers still tried to grab it, he couldn't fucking imagine having to share her with Suguru.

Seeing her look up at his best friend and babble dada to him, at the apparently growing possibility he might miss her first steps, her first words, her first everything and Suguru might get them instead.

Spiraling long after he put her back down in her crib, laying flat on your couch and staring at the ceiling to count the seconds until you came back.

God, since when had he gotten so pathetic?

Why couldn't he just figure it out and fix this? What would it take for you to give him a try?

Did you want him to grow out his hair? Start watching pretentious foreign films?

He still didn't have a clue by the time he heard your key in the lock, sitting up straight and smoothing out the wrinkles and spit-up stain on his shirt as he automatically started walking towards the entrance, nearly running into you when you walked in.

"Hey," he muttered, running his hands through his hair and pretending he didn't notice how your lip gloss had smeared, or how stray strands of your hair were sticking out as you peeled your purse off your shoulder and hung it up by the door.

"Hey," you murmured, wiping the back of your mouth just to stumble a little trying to slip off your heels.

And even though he knew you didn't need his help, he was still holding out his arm for you to hold onto him and steady yourself while you took them off.

"Enjoy your dinner?" He murmured, and you cringed a little, looking up at him with the slightest hints of apology in your smile as you held up a to-go box in your other hand.

"Who told you?" You asked, even though he could see it in your stare that you already suspected the answer.

"Sukuna mentioned it," he admitted.

"I should've said something," you cleared your throat, the closest you could probably come to a sorry.

"It's fine," he lied, no matter how far he really was from it.

"Do you want the rest?" You offered, as if your leftovers were some olive branch.

One he'd gladly take it.

"Sure," he shrugged, grabbing it as you let go of his arm. "So, are you guys, like a thing, or-"

"It's not like you're not seeing other women," you defensively muttered instead of actually answering, scowling at him as he went slack-jawed.

"I'm not," Gojo huffed, unsure what the hell he had to do to get you to understand that.

Wear a fucking cock cage and give you the only key?

"Gojo," you said his last name, bottom lip pushed out all pretty, and he wished he could make you believe how badly he wanted to make it yours too. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

He actually thought you were incredibly smart.

Gojo would give up everything just to breathe in the scent of your soft skin every day and listen to your voice as you talked about your studies as he stroked your hair and nuzzled his nose against your neck.

But instead, all that came out was a stuttered, "N-no?"

"You're at frat parties every weekend," you pointed out, holding your nose up high as you exhaled, walking past him like you had come to your conclusion.

"B-but only as the president, I'm not-"

"You don't speak to the pretty girls that come up to feel your muscles and offer to play stepmom?" You sarcastically asked, and Gojo wished you could look a little less gorgeous when you were glaring at him.

"I mean, I only talk to them," he tried to explain, but he knew that was the wrong thing to say when you just scoffed and shook your head.

"Me and Suguru just talked then," you huffed, and Gojo hated how you said his name. Loathed that he probably got to hear it while he was still relegated to Gojo.

Especially when he had seen first hand what you meant by talking.

His mouth opened, but it never seemed to be able to form the right words to get you to see him.

"I'm going to bed," you stubbornly insisted, padding barefoot back to your room while he hopelessly stared at your shrinking figure.

What would it take to be the one you wanted to go to sleep with?

And how the hell could he make sure that Suguru never got the chance?

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your hand moves from your robe to your stomach, pressing against the plane of your belly. you're small. you know this. delicate in a way that makes people underestimate you. and blind. gods, the blindness. the one thing that has sent every single suitor running in the opposite direction.

princes would see your face first—the one they called ethereal, otherworldly, beautiful in a way that seemed impossible—and they'd fall to their knees.

they'd whisper sweet words, promises of devotion, declarations of love at first sight. and then you'd speak, and they'd realize your eyes didn't track their movements, didn't meet their gaze. and slowly, painfully, you'd listen to them pull away. hear the hesitation creep into their voices. feel the distance grow until they were gone.

you were used to it.

but sukuna? sukuna had looked at you once, for a single moment, and said yes. the entire empire had been shocked. the king of curses, the ruthless murderer, the emperor who had never shown interest in any woman, accepting a blind bride from a neighboring kingdom? it was scandalous. impossible.

and you'd felt hope.

you hate yourself for that hope now.

because three months of silence have taught you the truth. he doesn't want you. he tolerates you. and honestly? you'd almost prefer cruelty. at least cruelty would be a reaction. at least cruelty would mean he saw you as something worth acknowledging.

but this nothingness? this endless, suffocating nothingness?

it makes you feel like you've already disappeared.

the servants guide you through your days with practiced efficiency. they dress you, feed you, lead you through the palace halls. you've memorized the layout of your chambers, the path to the gardens, the number of steps from your room to the dining hall. you've learned to navigate this world without sight, just as you've always done.

but you can't navigate him.

you don't know where he sits at meals. you don't know if he watches you. you don't know if he even notices when you're in the same room. his presence is a void—a massive, oppressive absence of warmth that you can feel but never touch.

tonight was bad.

you'd been led to the gardens by a new servant, someone who didn't know your habits. she'd taken you left instead of right, and you'd walked straight into a hedge, thorns scratching your calves before she'd yanked you back with a flurry of apologies.

then you'd almost fallen down a staircase—the grand staircase with its uneven steps—your foot catching on the edge, your heart lurching into your throat as you'd pitched forward. a guard caught you just in time.

and the whispers.

you can't see their faces, but you can hear their voices. the concubines. the noblewomen. the servants who think you can't hear them.

"the blind empress."

"does he even notice her?"

"i heard he hasn't touched her once."

"what a waste of a pretty face."

"she must be so lonely."

"she must be so pathetic."

you'd smiled through all of it. kept your head high, your shoulders back, your voice steady. you learned long ago that showing weakness only invites more cruelty. so you'd walked through the halls with your practiced grace, your cane tapping against the marble floors, your face serene.

but inside, you were crumbling.

and now, lying in this massive bed, with your hair spread across a silk pillow and the scent of incense curling through the air, you can feel him beside you. he's so close. you know he's sitting up, his back probably against the headboard, his presence a heavy weight in the darkness.

does he ever sleep?

you've never heard him snore. never heard him shift in his sleep. he's so still, so silent, you sometimes wonder if he's even real.

a long, long time passes. the candles burn down. the incense fades. the night wraps around you like a shroud.

and you can't take it anymore.

"ryomen?"

your voice comes out soft, barely above a whisper. you hate how small you sound. how vulnerable. you'd wanted to sound strong, confident, demanding. instead, you sound like a child calling out in the dark.

silence.

you wait. count your heartbeats. one. two. three. four. five.

just when you're certain he's ignoring you, just when the familiar ache of rejection settles into your chest, a voice cuts through the darkness.

"what."

it's gruff. low. a single word that rumbles through the air like distant thunder. and it's the most he's said to you in days.

you swallow. your throat is dry. your fingers twist in the sheets.

"i...i want to ask you something."

more silence. you can feel him staring at you. you can't see it, but you can feel it—the weight of his gaze, heavy and unreadable.

"ask."

you take a shaky breath. this is it. this is the moment you've been building toward for three months. the question that's been eating you alive, consuming you from the inside out.

"do you hate me?"

the words hang in the air between you. they sound so small. so pathetic. you wish you could take them back, but it's too late. they're out there now, exposed and raw.

"hate you?" his voice is strange. almost...confused?

"because of...because i'm...y'know, blind." the words taste like ash in your mouth. "i know it's...i know i'm not what you expected. i know i'm not the best option. i know i'm—"

"stop."

the word is sharp, and you flinch. your breath catches in your throat. you brace yourself for anger, for cruelty, for him to finally confirm what you've suspected all along.

but instead of harsh words, you feel movement. the bed shifts. his weight moves closer.

and then, without warning, a hand wraps around your waist and pulls.

you let out a frightened shriek as you're yanked from your position, your body colliding with something solid and warm. your hands fly out, grasping at fabric, at skin, at anything. you're on his lap, straddling his thighs, your chest pressed against his. he's so big—so impossibly large—that you feel like a doll in his arms.

"ryomen!" your voice is high, panicked. "what—"

"quiet."

his hand settles on your thigh. it's huge. calloused. rough in a way that sends shivers down your spine. but the touch is gentle. impossibly gentle. he strokes your thigh once, twice, a soothing motion that slowly calms your racing heart.

"you really think," he says slowly, his voice rumbling against your chest, "that i hate you?"

you can't speak. your throat is too tight. you settle for shaking your head against his chest, even though it's a lie.

a low sound escapes him—not quite a growl, not quite a laugh. his hand slides from your thigh to your chin, tilting your face up. his thumb brushes across your lower lip, feather-light.

"open your eyes."

the command catches you off guard. "what?"

"your eyes. open them."

you blink, confused. your eyes are already open. you can't see anything, but they're open. you tell him as much.

"no." his voice is strange. softer. "i mean...look at me."

"i can't see you."

"i know." his thumb traces your jawline. "but i can see you. and i want to see your eyes. please."

please.

the word catches you off guard. the king of curses, saying please? to you?

you don't move. don't breathe. just let him hold your face in his massive hand, his touch devastatingly tender.

"i don't hate you," he says, and his voice cracks on the words. "gods, woman. i could never hate you."

your heart stutters. "then why—"

"because i'm fuckin' terrified."

you blink. "what?"

"do you know what i am?" his hand slides from your face to your hair, fingers threading through the strands. "i'm a killer. i've been killing for centuries. my hands are stained with blood i'll never wash clean. i'm rough, and violent, and i don't know how to be gentle."

"but—"

"but when i saw you..." he trails off. his fingers tighten in your hair, just barely. "when i saw you, i couldn't breathe. you were so beautiful. so small. so... perfect. and i thought, 'she's too good f'me.' , 'i'll break her.' , 'i'll hurt her.'"

his voice drops to a whisper.

"so i stayed away. because every time i look at you, i want to touch you. and every time i touch you, i'm afraid i'll destroy you."

tears prick at your eyes. you don't understand. you can't understand. this entire time, you thought he hated you. you thought he found you repulsive, broken, worthless.

but he was...

...afraid?

"you don't hate me?" you whisper.

"no." his forehead presses against yours. "i love you. i've loved you since the moment i saw you."

a sob escapes your throat. it's ugly and raw and you can't stop it.

"but you never—you never talked to me—"

"because i didn't trust myself." his other hand comes up to cup your cheek. "because i knew if i started, i wouldn't be able to stop."

"then don't stop."

the words leave your mouth before you can think. they hang in the air, bold and desperate.

"don't stop," you repeat. "please. i don't want you to stop."

sukuna goes still. so still that you wonder if he's stopped breathing.

"you don't know what you're asking."

"i do." you reach up, your fingers finding his face. you trace the planes of his cheeks, the sharp lines of his jaw, the curve of his lips. "you're my husband. i want you. all of you."

"i'll hurt you."

"i don't care."

"i'll break you."

"i don't care."

his breath hitches. and then, finally, finally, his lips crash against yours.

the kiss is desperate. hungry. it tastes like three months of longing, of confusion, of aching loneliness. his hand fists in your hair, pulling you closer, and you gasp against his mouth. his tongue slides against your lower lip, asking for entry, and you give it willingly.

he tastes like sake and power and something darker. something that makes your toes curl and your heart race.

he pulls back, breathless.

"tell me to stop, and i will."

"don't," you say immediately. "don't stop."

he groans. his hands slide down your back, gripping your hips, and he lays you down on the bed. you fall against the silk sheets, your hair spreading around you like a halo. you can't see him, but you can feel him—his weight on the bed, his heat surrounding you, his breath ghosting across your skin.

"m'gonna show you," he says, his voice low and rough. "m'gonna kiss every inch of your body. gonna taste you until you scream my name. i want to make you feel so good that you forget every single doubt you've ever had about yourself."

your breath catches. "ryomen—"

"let me." his lips brush against your neck. "let me show you how much i love you."

you nod, unable to speak.

his hands find the tie of your robe. he undoes it slowly, reverently, like he's unwrapping a gift he's been waiting centuries to open. the fabric falls away, cool air hitting your skin, and you shiver.

"beautiful," he breathes. "so fucking beautiful."

you feel his lips on your collarbone. soft. worshipful. he kisses down your chest, his tongue tracing a path between your breasts. his hands cup your breasts, thumbs brushing across your nipples, and you gasp.

"sensitive," he murmurs. "good. i'll remember that."

he takes one nipple into his mouth. his tongue circles the peak, slow and deliberate, and you arch into him with a desperate moan. he laves at you, sucking gently, nipping with his teeth until you're writhing beneath him.

"more," you gasp. "please—"

"patience." his voice is a dark promise. "i haven't even started with ya' yet."

he switches to the other breast, giving it the same attention. his hand slides down your stomach, fingers tracing patterns on your skin, until he reaches the apex of your thighs. you're already wet—embarrassingly wet—and he lets out a low growl when he feels it.

"fuck," he mutters against your skin. "you're soaked. f'me?"

"yes," you whimper. "only you."

he groans. his fingers slide through your folds, collecting your wetness, and you buck into his touch.

"tell me what you want."

"i want—" you gasp as his thumb circles your clit. "m'want your mouth."

his laugh is dark and breathless. "demanding little thing, aren't ya'?"

"please," you beg. "ryo, please—"

"shh." he kisses your stomach. "i'll give ya' what y'want."

he moves down your body, his lips leaving a trail of fire. he kisses your hips, your thighs, the inside of your knees. by the time he reaches your core, you're trembling, desperate, aching.

and then his tongue touches you.

you cry out, your hands flying to his hair. he laps at you like a man starved, his tongue sliding through your folds, circling your clit, dipping inside you. he moans against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body.

"taste s'good," he mutters against your skin. "could eat ya' forever."

he sucks your clit into his mouth, and you scream. your hips buck against his face, but he holds you down, his massive hands gripping your thighs. he alternates between sucking and licking, building a rhythm that has you climbing higher and higher.

"that's it," he praises. "let go f'me...lemme taste ya'."

his fingers find your entrance, sliding inside you without warning. two fingers, thick and long, stretching you. he curls them, hitting a spot that makes you see stars, and you shatter.

you come with a scream of his name, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crash through you. he doesn't stop. he laps at you through your orgasm, drawing it out until you're sobbing from the intensity.

when you finally come down, he crawls up your body, his lips finding yours. you taste yourself on his tongue, and it's the most intimate thing you've ever experienced.

"m-more," you whisper. "m'want more."

his eyes—you can feel them—search your face.

"are you sure? we can stop. we can—"

"i'm sure." you reach for him, your fingers finding his chest. "i want you...please."

he hesitates. you feel the tension in his muscles, the restraint he's barely holding onto.

"m'bigger than ya'," he says, matter of factly. "a lot bigger. and i have...i have two dicks, woman. i don't know if—"

"i don't care." you pull him closer. "i trust you."

he groans, pressing his forehead against yours.

"if it hurts too much, tell me. and i'll stop."

"okay."

"promise me."

"i promise."

he shifts above you, and you feel something heavy and thick press against your thigh. and then another. two cocks. the thought should terrify you, but instead, it sends a thrill through your body.

he aligns himself with your entrance, and you feel the tip pressing against you. he's huge—so much bigger than his fingers—and you wonder if you can actually take him.

"relax f'me," he murmurs. "breathe."

you inhale deeply, and he pushes in.

just the tip, and you gasp. he's stretching you in a way that's almost unbearable. it hurts. there's a burning sensation, a pressure that's too much and not enough.

"shh," he soothes. "you're doing s'well. so good f'me."

he pushes deeper, inch by agonizing inch. you feel your body struggling to accommodate him, your walls clenching around his length. and then—

a sharp pain.

fuck...you forgot.

you cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders. he stops immediately.

"did i hurt ya'?"

you can't answer. the pain is fading, replaced by a strange fullness. you feel something wet trickle down your thigh. warm. sticky.

blood.

his eyes slowly flicker down, and you can hear his breath stop. he's tense. too tense.

"fuck," he hisses. "you're—you're a fuckin' virgin?"

you nod weakly, biting your lip. your heart is pounding fast. loud. "is that...bad?"

"no." his voice is strained. "no, it's not bad. i just—fuck—i didn't know. i would have been more careful, woman."

"you are being careful," you whisper, fingers pressing into his shoulders "keep going."

"you're fuckin' bleeding."

"i don't care. please. i want to feel you." you sniffle. god, the pleasure is making you bold. too fucking bold.

he lets out a shaky breath. "you're going to kill me."

but he pushes deeper, slower this time. gentler. his lips find yours, kissing you softly as he sinks into you. the pain fades, replaced by a deep, aching fullness that makes you moan.

when he's fully sheathed, he stops. lets you adjust. his forehead presses against yours, his breath ragged.

"y'feel incredible," he breathes. "so tight. so...fuck...perfect."

"move," you beg. "please."

he pulls out slowly, then pushes back in. the friction is delicious, the stretch exquisite. he sets a rhythm—slow, deep, deliberate—each thrust hitting a spot that makes you see stars.

"ryomen," you gasp. "r-ryo—"

"i know," he murmurs. "i know, doll. feels s'good, doesn't it?"

"yes—yes—"

his hand slides down your stomach, pressing against the slight bulge where he's buried inside you. the feeling makes you moan.

"look at that," he says, awe in his voice. "you can feel me, can't ya'? right here."

he presses down, and you feel it—the outline of him inside you. it's obscene. it's incredible.

"more," you gasp. "harder—"

"y'sure?"

"yes—please—"

he obliges. his pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more urgent. the bed creaks beneath you, the sound mixing with your moans and his grunts.

"gonna come," he warns. "where do you want it?"

"inside," you gasp. "please—i want to feel you—"

he groans, his hips slamming into yours. and then he's coming, hot and thick, filling you so completely. you feel it—his release pouring into you, painting your walls, claiming you from the inside. his cum is already trickling down your thigh, oozing out of your cunt.

at the same time, he's stroking his other cock. you feel the wet spurts hit your stomach, warm and sticky.

he collapses on top of you, careful not to crush you. his face buries in your neck, and you feel his breath, ragged and uneven.

"i love you," he whispers, gruff. it's funny. you've always thought the word love doesn't exist in his vocabulary. but here he is, saying it over and over again. "i love you so much it terrifies me."

you wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer.

"i love you too."

a long moment passes. then another. and then—

"we're going to do that again."

you laugh, breathless.

"right now?"

"after i clean you up." he kisses your neck. "and then again. and again. and again. until ya' can't walk."

"promise?"

he pulls back, and even though you can't see him, you know he's smirking.

"promise."

you're already half asleep when he pulls you against his chest, his arms wrapped around you like he's afraid you'll disappear. his lips press against your hair, your forehead, your eyelids.

"my wife," he murmurs. "my perfect, beautiful wife."

you smile against his skin.

"my husband."

"forever."

"forever."

2026 ── 𝓦𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐎𝐅 @atelphobist 𝜗ৎ

ᥫ᭡ | © 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘳. 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥. 𝘯𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘪.

uraume thought about the question before shaking their head, “i know about cursed techniques and energy, but i’m not really sure about the details. also, my parents were ordinary.”

uraume doesn’t understand why they’re being asked this. this strange, yet, powerful man that found them in the woods, not even a week earlier, is practically speaking tongues.

sukuna nods once before explaining, “i ask this because you have cursed energy. it’s not a lot by any means, but it’s obviously there.”

whatever that means.

“will i be able to be powerful like you? powerful enough to at least be able to protect the lady of the shrine?”

sukuna is quiet for a moment before bursting in laughter, “if you manifest a cursed technique, i’ll make you powerful enough to protect me.”

uraume didn’t know it at the time, but the man was just teasing them. he would never allow himself to put uraume in danger, not for his or his wife’s sake.

they want to smile at the memory, but it’s painful. the amount of cursed energy being used all at once is painful. especially because they’ve never done this before.

they’ve only been at the shrine for a couple of months now, surely a mistake like this will cause anger from you and sukuna. then you won’t want them anymore.

the thought is way more painful than their cursed technique.

sukuna feels it. a powerful force of cursed energy compacted into a room. sukuna removes himself from the bed, causing you to wake up.

“sukuna? where are you going? it’s still so early.”

sukuna’s heart melts at the thought of you missing his presence.

“you’re supposed to keep me warm, it’s so cold.”

or using him is fine too. but he has noticed it was slightly cooler than usual.

“come with me wife, uraume might require help.” help wasn’t the most accurate word, comfort would’ve slotted in better. but he’ll be damned if he shows any weakness towards the child.

any sleepiness you had, was completely gone. you go towards sukuna’s side, “let’s go.”

the sight you see is one for the books.

uraume is curled up on the floor, ice coating the floors. the room is essentially frozen. there are holes in the walls with large ice spikes.

uraume is on the floor shivering, but the cold wasn’t bothering them, it was fear and sadness. they didn’t want to be kicked out or killed, they wanted to stay with you and sukuna, for the rest of your lives.

you have shown uraume so much kindness in the last couple of months, and the fact that it could be taken away so quickly scares them.

and don’t even get them started on disappointing sukuna. sukuna was the one who found them and decided to keep them. upsetting sukuna was the last thing they wanted.

you walk up to uraume, lifting them in your arms to hold them, “what’s all this uraume? were you hiding a cursed technique from us?”

sukuna says nothing, but he watches the two of you intently.

uraume, who’s too downcast to tell you’re teasing them, wraps their arms around you, crying, “i’m so sorry! i didn’t lie to you, i swear! it was an accident, i didn’t know i could do this!”

their cries cause your heart to ache. before you could say anything, sukuna comes up from behind uraume, slapping their back as ‘gently’ he could.

“what comes after this is hell. i’m going to train you day in and day out so that you’re strong enough to protect yourself.”

uraume lifts their head from your shoulder, rubbing their eyes, “what happened to being strong enough to protect you?”

“you don’t ever have to protect that big oaf. if he ever needs protection, just know he’s fallen off.” uraume watches as you roll your eyes.

“fallen off!? why exactly would i ever fall off? i’m always going to be at my prime and to even doubt that is insulting.”

pinching uraume’s cheeks, “i don’t know sukuna… you are getting kind of old. maybe you do need someone to protect you.”

sukuna’s eyes widened in disbelief, “you’re older than me!”

squinting your eyes at him in disgust, you lift both yourself and uraume up in a standing position.

“me and uraume will not take this disrespect. have fun sleeping in the guest chambers.”

as you and uraume walk off sukuna can hear you complain, “the nerve of him to bring up my age. i should have him killed huh?”

uraume nods in agreement swiftly, “i can’t believe him. maybe we should run away.”

“good idea.”

“don’t even think about it.”

you turn around, looking at him, “mind your business! and don’t yell at us again.”

turning back around to take uraume to your bed chambers, sukuna rolls his eyes.

“and don’t roll your eyes again.”

how did you know?

request three!

uraume is walking around the shrine, when they hear someone take a deep sigh.

“i wish we could attend the floral festival. apparently, it’s supposed to be the most colorful it’s ever been!”

“you know he would never allow it. maybe we could see the festival from here! the shrine is pretty high up.”

a flower festival?

you were busy working on organizing kimonos when uraume entered your room.

“mother. i have a request.”

you smile upon hearing the voice, “for the last time uraume, yes you can lie in my bed. speaking of, have you been sleeping well? your eyes look a little darker.” you frown at the realization.

uraume reaches their eyes with one of their hands, before shaking their head. “it’s not that. i heard some maids talking about a flower festival in the village. i was wondering if we could go.”

you hum in thought, “a flower festival huh?” you go closer to uraume, patting their head, “i suppose we could go. should we invite sukuna?”

uraume wanted to say no so that they could just spend some alone time with their mother. but the fear of some crazy villager attacking you for being the king of curses wife creeps in.

“yes. he would be a good meat shield.”

they had only meant to say yes, but their inner thought seemed to come to light.

“absolutely not. i shall not participate in something as silly as a flower festival.” sukuna explains to you and uraume.

looking at uraume, you can e see that they have a pout on their face, “that’s probably a good idea,” you start, “just me and young uraume. that’s enough to protect us from the crazy villagers.”

sukuna furrows good eyebrows, “what crazy villagers?”

you put on a faux shocked face, “being married to the king of curses who takes a sacrifice from the village once a month, puts a target on me surely no?”

“i’ve actually always wanted to attend a flower festival, good thinking uraume.”

suddenly, the pout on their face is gone, replaced with a smile.

sukuna was bored out of his mind. what’s a guy like him supposed to find fun in a festival dedicated to flowers? sure it was pretty, and yeah he did like seeing his wife and child uraume happy, but he was soooo bored.

he watches as you and uraume walk around with your arms interlaced. uraume has some sort of dessert, they keep insisting you take a bite.

he groans before he sees a stall. the prizes are small handcrafted stuffed animals. he’s not the only one who spots it, because uraume taps your shoulder before pointing at the stall.

“look there mother.” they point at three stuffed animals in particular.

there was a pink tiger , a polar bear with red spots, and there was a cat with fur similar to your hair color.

uraume wanted, no, needed them.

they look behind to see sukuna already looking at them. sukuna who seemed to catch the hint, shook his head, “no way.”

“oh i get it. don’t worry about it uraume. he won’t do it because he knows it’s too difficult. besides, imagine the villagers taking about the big bad king of curses couldn’t do it.”

sukuna couldn’t believe this. did you seriously think that?

he sighs, “i’ll do it.”

uraume beams (?) before nodding, walking over to sukuna. as they walk to the booth, you see uraume go from beside sukuna, to behind him. you watch as they grab a hold of sukuna’s kimono.

the villager who was running the booth was practically shaking with fear.

she said nothing, but shakily handing sukuna three balls. they weren’t heavy, but they didn’t need to be if sukuna was the one throwing them.

he threw a single ball towards the glass. not only did the glass break, but so did the back of the booth.

“sukuna! look at the mess.”

he grunts in response, pulling uraume out from behind him, “pick.”

uraume didn’t need to look through the options before picking the three he had his eyes on.

the woman swiftly grabs them, giving them to uraume, “good choice young one.” her voice trembles.

you on the other hand, grab a couple large coins. you find a couple gold before giving them to the woman.

she shakes her head in protest, “i shouldn’t.”

“if you don’t, my husband will eat you.”

the woman looks at sukuna who’s grinning widely, showing all his teeth.

she rushes to grab the coins before bowing, “thank you, thank you.”

you pat her head before walking off.

that was a mistake, because now uraume holds all their plushes in one hand, grabbing your other.

“don’t touch her, she could be diseased.”

“uraume! she’s right there!”

“no, no. they have a point.”

later that night, uraume lays between you and sukuna.

“i don’t understand why the brat has to sleep in here. no one told them to eat every single dessert they could find.”

uraume’s on their back, all three plushes in their arms.

“the chef here for the humans makes bland dessert. i couldn’t help myself, my apologies.”

you bring uraume closer, but not before giving sukuna’s forehead a slap.

“don’t mind him. he’s the biggest eater i know. it’s all he does. don’t you remember the qualifications for keeping you?”

they nod, “making tasty humans.”

“exactly my point. he’s lucky i don’t kick him out. he’s hogging all of the bed.”

sukuna pouts, “this is not fair.”

request four!

uraume was being framed. by their father no less.

“sukuna, you can’t honestly expect me to believe that my sweet uraume would give you this idea.”

sukuna rolls his eyes, “you should’ve seen the kid. they offered and all i did was humbly accept.”

let’s go back a couple hours.

it was the first on july. the sun was beaming down, the heat sticking to people.

the heat didn’t matter to sukuna, not when he was going to get his favorite dinner.

last month, he tried savoring the human for two days. his storage area was too hot, and it caused the meat to go bad.

he took uraume to the village with him. he felt that uraume picks the best villagers. this time, he has a plan on making sure uraume doesn’t say anything to you.

“uraume.”

they look towards sukuna, “yes?”

“i saw we put that cursed technique of yours to use. i need a cold area to store my dinner.”

that was easy enough.

but over the next couple of days, when sukuna would bring the meat to the kitchen for uraume, it seemed to be never ending.

there was always more meat for sukuna to eat the next day and uraume was getting suspicious.

they would hate to find out their father is going against their mothers wishes. uraume was going to get to the bottom of it no matter what.

the next time sukuna announced he was going out, uraume decided that they would follow him. at the same time, completely forgetting sukuna could sense their cursed energy.

not that sukuna really cared. he felt uraume following them into the village. he also knew that uraume was definitely going to say something about it. so why not take them down with him?

sukuna readies a villager to kill, waiting for uraume to take the bait. they do, coming out from behind a tree.

“father. i knew you were up to something. mother with be very displeased with you.”

sukuna shook his head, “no uraume, she will be displeased with us.”

uraume furrowed their eyebrows, not getting to question the man before sukuna slaughtered the person in the messiest way. they were both covered in blood.

uraume pouts at the realization, turning around to walk back to the shrine. sukuna just laughs at them, “wait for me! your mother will be delighted to see us bond!”

uraume walks away even quicker.

that doesn’t bother sukuna, because he’s now right by the young child holding the dead body.

“you’re despicable father.”

he grins, “music to my ears.”

now we’re back to the beginning, sukuna blaming uraume, explaining, “it was their idea to keep the meat frozen. they pittied me for having my food spoil.”

“sukuna, you can’t honestly expect me to believe that my sweet uraume would give you this idea.”

sukuna can’t believe this, “you should’ve seen the kid. they offered and all i did was humbly accept.”

squinting your eyes, “you never do anything humbly. and you,” you look towards uraume, “you should have gone to me when you found this beast being suspicious.”

they nod, “yes mother.”

while sukuna whines in the back, “beast!? wife you wound me!”

“both of you, go bathe. the living quarters are starting to reek of blood.”

they both walk off, side by side.

uraume elbows sukuna in his side. sukuna, not taking this lightly, ‘gently’ pushes uraume.

they go flying into a wall.

“i saw that sukuna. have fun sleeping alone tonight.”

“they started it!”

request two!

after sukuna dealt with yuzuki, they were down a shrine maiden. sukuna decided that uraume can do the hornors and find a new one. it was for a couple reasons.

firstly, if uraume found one that they liked, there won’t be another issue with a shrine maiden disrespecting them. secondly, he didn’t want to do that himself. thirdly, he assumed uraume had a good sense of character.

but clearly not since they followed sukuna from the woods, but that’s neither here nor there.

so uraume set off towards the village, looking for a shrine maiden. one that can clean and have basic respect for those above her. and they found one. one by the name on mizuki. they hoped that the ‘zuki’ curse wouldn’t come back and bite them.

it had been a month since mizuki arrived. she seemed fine. she followed orders easy, didn’t fight back, and most importantly, she didn’t hit uraume! that was a win in their book.

“i don’t understand. what does he see in her?”

uraume was excited, they absolutely loved gossip! the shrine maidens knew a lot when it came to outside of the shrine.

“i mean, i think they’re cute. i’ve been here a while, and they seem to really be in love.”

what? was there a love drama going on here in the shrine?! uraume listens in closely.

“uht uh. lord sukuna deserves someone who will submit to him. she’s constantly hitting him and insulting him. if i were in her position, i’d obey him properly.”

uraume was shaking in anger, quite literally seething. fist were clenched and their heart was racing. their whole body felt hot in anger.

they know they should tell sukuna what they just heard, they promised they would.

uraume walks off, conjuring up a plan.

they had it, the most genius idea. they would use their father with help of getting rid of the wretched woman.

“father. do you remember when you got rid of the shrine maiden for putting her hands on me?”

sukuna squinted his eyes in suspicion, “yes. that was nothing.”

“maybe to you, but i never properly thanked you.”

he waved them off, “if i didn’t, your mother would’ve of.”

uraume was sick of being patient, “i’ll cut to the chase.” they left the room, before coming back with a dead body. sukuna recognized her, uraume had just hired her.

her body was frozen. she had frostbite on her fingers, knees, toes and ears. you couldn’t tell by looking at her, but her organs were frozen as well.

sukuna raises his eyebrows, “what’s this young uraume? you decided not to allow her to disrespect you this time.”

they nodded, “something like that. i need you to eat her before mother finds out. i will prepare her well.”

“and why should i do that? so you don’t get in trouble? will all the tattling you do, you don’t think i should repay the favor?”

uraume looked at the woman before furrowing their eyebrows. their cursed energy also spiked, “this thing decided to disrespect mother. saying you deserved someone who would submit and obey you.”

sukuna was pissed, not just at the woman, but at uraume as well. “and why didn’t you allow me to torture her? i didn’t raise you to be so selfish.”

uraume rolled their eyes, “well now you can eat her.”

he grunted, “what a brat. prepare her for dinner. it’s been a while since i was allowed to eat a human.”

“that was your own fault.”

“out.”

that night, sukuna had eaten the shrine maiden, and you hadn’t ever known. all that you knew is after that day, sukuna and little uraume got closer, how cute!

extra:

“mizuki, could i talk to you.” it had been three days for uraume to come with their plan.

mizuki, none the wiser, agreed, “sure! do you need any help?”

uraume give them a fake smile, “something like that.”

mizuki had waved goodbye to the other girls. uraume had to put a front on in case you questioned the other girls.

leading her down to the basement, mizuki starts to sweat, “ah hah, are we allowed down here? or do i need to clean something? i hope you know i’m not good with blood.”

it’s clear she’s trying to joke and make light of the situation.

“you won’t have to worry about blood. but i do have a question.”

she perks her head up, “what’s the question?”

uraume slowly turns to the woman, the room starts to chill.

“did you think you could talk ill of my mother and live to tell the tale?”

request one!

satoru gojo wouldn’t have ever expected for someone to eat sukuna’s fingers. and he especially didn’t expect them to live.

but here he is, sitting with yuji itadori, explaining who sukuna ryomen is.

“wait a minute, the guy has twenty fingers? and two faces!! how does that work?”

gojo smiles at the curiosity of the boy, “if you think that’s crazy, wait until you find out he had a wife and kid.”

yuji’s eyes widened, and his jaw dropped, “a wife and kid! no way!”

“yes way brat. I wasn't as unappealing as you might think.”

gojo laughed, “the man of the hour. maybe physically you weren’t gross, but how you got a wife with that sour personality is beyond me.”

“my wife was quite fond of my personality.”

gojo doesn’t really believe that.

“what about your kid? is that real too?”

sukuna gives a nasty grin, “as real as can be. they were a pain in my ass. too bad my wife loved them, i would’ve eaten them first chance i got.”

yuji shivers at the thought, “you don’t really mean that do you? yuck!”

yuji furrows his brows, “wait, so where are they? they must’ve already passed.”

gojo says nothing, thinking of what to say, “nah. they were both sealed along with sukuna. i couldn’t tell you where either of them are though.”

sukuna hums, in acknowledgment “when i get my body back, i’m going to find my wife and child, then, the world will burn.”

gojo laughs right in his yuji’s face, “good luck burning anything down while i’m around.”

shibuya is on fire. the whole city is in flames, if people didn’t die from the explosions happening, the fire will. sukuna decides to walk around in the chaos around him. it feels good.

“father.”

sukuna freezes, he was so caught up in the feeling of destruction, he didn’t notice his child.

not that they particularly look like a kid anymore, they look older. sukuna doesn’t remember them being that big.

“uraume. is that you?” sukuna knows it’s them, the shock is still there.

they nod slowly, walking up to him. they stand in front of him, not moving.

sukuna grabs them, pulling them into him. uraume hugs him back.

“it’s been a while, father.”

sukuna doesn’t say it, but he can hear the tremble in their voice.

“so it has.”

he pulls back from them, “do you know where your mother is?”

uraume tilts their head, “i kept her.”

they pull out a small cat plush, “i didn’t want to risk unsealing her in this era alone. the risk of her being hurt and confused doesn’t bring me any joy.”

he nods, “let’s unseal her. i’ll explain everything and keep her safe.”

they look for the cleanest spot on the ground, before gently placing the cat down.

sukuna preforms the ritual of unsealment.

uraume sees their mothers soul leave the plush, manifesting into a solid body.

uraume grabs the spare clothing they’ve been keeping. sukuna and uraume dress you, while your body finishes forming your consciousness.

“i can’t wait for mother to wake up.” they whisper, “i haven’t been up long, but i’ve been wanting to hear her voice.”

uraume holds you and your hand, keeping track of your pulse.

sukuna stands, watching as uraume holds you. he’d do anything to go back. to have uraume in the middle of your bed, while you threaten to kick him out.

gojo can’t believe this. he almost gets sealed for this?!

“hello! i hope sukuna hasn’t caused to much trouble for you.”

he burnt shibuya down!!! you knew this!

uraume stands at your side, holding the back of your shirt, “it would be wise to accept my mothers words.”

??

“wait a minute. you were working with kenjaku, you’re over here because?”

uraume tilted their head in confusion, “because my parents are over here. why else?”

gojo was going to pull his hair out.

sukuna, who was now back inside yuji complained, “why are you asking stupid questions? and stop staring at my wife six eyes.”

he was staring at you?! how embarrassing!

yuji pipes up, “i actually think your family is cute, you all seem to fit well together!”

gojo was going to go crazy, why in the world was yuji fawning over this??

“aww! thank you, you’re so cute!”

before yuji could slip out a thank you, he gets a chilling feeling, uraume is staring at him.

not just staring, it’s hard core glaring, “you shouldn’t speak to this incel mother.”

incel?????????????

“i’m not quite sure what that means, but i hope you get better.”

not only were his feelings hurt, but he could hear sukuna laughing at him in his head!

“it’s alright yuji, the higher ups will order me to exercise them. once that happens, we’ll be freee from the abuse.

“they shall stay alive until yuji itadori’s execution. using them as leverage shall keep that king of curses from causing to much havoc.”

no way.

“but what about their kid?! they have cursed energy, and a technique! what if they harm someone?!”

“they clearly care for the mother. just threaten her.”

that night, satoru gojo cried himself to sleep.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ