sukuna looks at his hands. he looks at the redness that coats them completely, blood dripping down to his forearms. his claw-like nails that he had once used to maul those who defied him, had met your once beating heart. he tries, but cannot look past his hands to look at the mess he had made of his love.

what had he done?

he does not remember how he got there, he does not wish to. for how can he relive the memory of how he destroyed what had made him human. rather, who had made him human. all he could recount was the flash of red that had blinded him when he ripped you apart and the ways your eyes cowered with fear, the first time he had seen that expression on your face.

love was a foreign word to his tongue. saying it out loud had taken him more courage than fighting the strongest. yet, when it came to you, he tried. his mouth had moved against yours sounding out the word over and over again until he could say it out to you. he brings his head up to look at you. the way you’re slumped over on the ground, pool of blood threatening to stain his feet.

your coppery scent filled the air, sickeningly sweet like arabian perfume that he could never wash off his hands. your lifeless eyes look at him begging him for reason, an explanation of any kind. “id never let anything to touch you— hurt what is mine.” he had once promised you, a promise he felt like he had made a lifetime ago. it was under the moonlight, the same day he uttered those hushed three words.

who is he supposed to hurt knowing it was him that ruined the one good thing that happened to him. how is he supposed to live with himself knowing that he had destroyed everything that made him happy, — you and the life you were carrying with both of your soul embedded in it’s heart. he remembers the smile and tears that painted your face when you told him you were with child, — his child.

after a long day of exorcising curses and bothering nanami, gojo comes home excited to cuddle with you. instead he gasps, seeing you bundled under your weighted blanket on the couch. he walks over, pulling the blanket up to see your puffy face and hair sticking to your forehead under the heat of your warmth. you stir awake at the slight breeze, eyes fluttering open to see your boyfriend blinking at you like a curious cat.

“mmm, ‘toru what’s up?”

his eyes widen. his breath hitches.

“what’s up? babyyyy i left you this morning in the same spot!!”

your eyes widen now, heart hammering with embarrassment.

you get up to look around, noticing the blinds were still up letting the darkness of the night seep through. the dishes from breakfast were still soaking in the sink and the laundry you scrawled onto your to-do as a must do — unfolded.

you feel yourself getting hotter with the humiliation of just not getting it together, nails digging into your palms as you avoid looking at him.

“is everything okay? no—, fuck that. are you okay?”

he sits down next to you, pulling you closer so your head rests on his shoulder.

“i don’t know satoru, im sorry. i’ll get my shit together. im sorry.” you stare at your hands, feeling awful knowing that you won’t keep up with this promise as well.

“i asked if you are okay. i don’t care for anything else, i care for you.” his voice gentle as he cradles you back and forth.

“can you help me shower?” you ask, regretting the minute the words slip out of your mouth. you expect rejection, you expect disgust. what you don’t expect is gojo getting up to help you stand, flashing a cheesy smile to tell you — “anything for my best girl.”

he sits you down on a pink stool, both of you bare as he lets water fall on you, perfect temperature at that. he lathers the strawberry scented cleanser to work out the knots in your back, hands gentle yet firm as he washes you over.

you look up to him, tilting your head back so you can smile at him. you hope the water masks the way you tear up but his six eyes alert him to place the softest kiss on your forehead. he helps you shampoo your hair, working through the tangles. he giggles as he makes your hair into a cone, prompting both of you to laugh together.

satoru takes his job very seriously, so he helps you dry, patting you dry with his favourite cinnomoroll patterned towel.

he looks at you the way an astronomer looks at his favourite constellation, he looks at you the way suguru once looked at him. he looks at you with utter love and devotion, the sweetness sickening with affection.

“soooooo, what are we going to do now?” he asks, both of you clothed in matching pajamas on the bed.

“i was thinking we do takeout — chinese obviously, and then…..” you smile at him, “i was thinking you could help me book an appointment with my old therapist.”

you both have been dating for a good few months, early years of college and can’t get your hands off each other. he’s the sweetest boyfriend you could ask for, possessive sure but he always treats you right. it’s one of his first serious relationships while you had dated around before, plenty of experience up your sleeve. he makes sure to kiss your forehead, carry an extra jacket because he knows you will get cold and drives you around the city on his bike.

geto who’s ears are completely red when you spend the night with him for the first time ever. he made sure to kick his roommate out so he could have his complete attention on you. he cooks you your favourite meal and has your favourite rom com waiting to play on the television but deep down inside he’s busy thinking about how you look underneath all your clothes.

it’s not like you haven’t touched each other before. you find yourself often pushed against the library wall with geto’s pierced tongue in your mouth, his tattooed hand travelling under your top to play with your breasts. more than once you’ve been caught by a fellow student who had the misfortune of witnessing your very public display of affection instead of a physics textbook.

so when you are in his flat, hips straddling his thighs on his old couch, geto almost moans out loud. he watches you as you grind your ass against his clothed cock, not innocent on his side when he intentionally wore grey sweats. “slow do— fuck! slower! baby” he groans as your gyrating hips make him leak through, the friction between your shorts and his sweats enough to make his eyes roll back.

when he carries you to his bed and lies you flat, it’s like a dream come true. you pull down your shorts and stop, inviting him to do the rest. geto does not need anything more to use his pearly white teeth to drag your pretty black panties leaving it to hang around your ankle. he can’t afford to wait when all he has ever dreamed off is spread open waiting for him.

you look up to him with glossy eyes and your lip tucked under your teeth when you hear him say the words — “i have never done this before.”

confused you get up, supporting your body on your elbows. he looks away turning red at his own brazen admission, and only looks at you when you pull down his sweats to help release his girthy cock, precum beading at the tip. he groans when your much smaller hands begin to jerk him off, cooing about how good he is being for you. there’s a teasing tilt to your tone because it’s not everyday you learn your hot boyfriend is a secret virgin! you continue to jerk him off and tease him for acting tough when he decides can’t take it anymore, the way you talk to him like he’s too innocent to touch you back.

geto shows you that despite being your good boy, he can make you eat your shit eating grin when he pins your thighs down. his mouth is on your dripping cunt, tongue licking your clit in slow circles. he does not stop when you cum on his face, he does not stop to take a break when his ringed fingers enter your wet entrance, squishing and squelching echoing throughout. he does not stop until there’s a ring of your cream that parallels the silver rings he wears and the lower half of his face painted with your slick juices.

they both spend the next two weeks in shiu's sleek car, retro yet sensual the way smoke pours out the rolled down windows, watching you frolick to your apartment. they find it difficult to believe you, dressed in soft pastel sweaters and thigh high socks is capable of deception. you are nothing but candy cane and fluffy clouds, mind lost in daydreaming when they watch you through the apartment window. toji can't help but adjust himself every time you wear a skirt too short and shiu despite his disgusted groans directed towards toji, would kill to see you on his bed. if they are lucky enough, they catch glimpses of you changing, feeding into the delusions of the voyeuristic duo.

both of them were ready to close the case declaring you innocent to your much older boyfriend. they hadn't seen anyone visit you except for your pretty friends. on the very last day when they were ready to wrap it up, they hear the softest knocking on the tinted windows of the car. toji reluctantly rolls down the window just to be met with the sight you, forcing your head through the window, your low cut top doing nothing but accentuate your tits to the grown men sitting on the faux leather. "hey boys, did that old hag send you ?" you drawl out with a giggle, no longer they could see the innocence. fuck, they were played. both of them chuckle at you, eyes raking over your ample breasts so close yet so far. shiu wanted to lean over and sink his teeth into your supple skin, gripping the steering wheel instead. toji, unashamed as always, waits zero time to pull you into the car in the middle of the night throwing you in the backseat.

it takes both of them even lesser time to crowd you against the leather seat, watching you squirm under their hooded eyes. you can feel their heavy breath on you, shiu pulling your shirt down to expose your tits to the cold air. they pull of your clothes, hastily pulling down their pants when you palm their bulge moaning loudly. despite how cramped the back is, it doesnt stop them filling your tight holes. pussy pushed beyond its limits around shiu's cock, you moan around toji's length, eyes rolled behind your eyes. toji helps shiu work your tight asshole open to, ready to fill you up in ways your boyfriend never could.

coworker! nanami who you have never talked to ever in your life to but can tell what kind of underwear you wear every day. it is not his fault! you always wear the cutest pair!

the first time nanami accidentally catches a glimpse at your panty clad cunt was when he had dropped his pen, his muscles stretching for the first time in hours as he bent down to pick it. it wasn’t his intention when he looked at you from there. your mind far away to notice how his hazel eyes darkened with desire when he sees the lacy thong that covered your cunt. he could see the tiniest wet patch on the fabric stretched over your plump pussy. a single hit was enough to trap him into your unintentional seduction.

nanami wishes he could stop, wishes that he could stop dropping things all the time around you just to see what you were wearing. he isn’t picky either. he would thank his stars when he would see you in a dark purple granny panty and he would jerk off in the office toilets if you wore the white ones with the pink bow in the front.

nanami’s obsession simply just grew, his desire more than ever but too scared to ask you out like a normal person. a single glance wasn’t enough, so he starts taking upskirt pictures of you whenever you are too close to him. pressed against him in a crowded elevator? he knows your panties are yellow. bent over to get some water ? he loves the frilly pink outline that’s see through. one day he is so fortunate that he sees you trip in front of him ending up in your knees, skirt flipped up showing him the sluttiest thong ever, baby blue fabric peeking through your ass. ever the gentleman, helps you out immediately after taking a quick picture so he can paint his phone screen white at night.

his streak of luck only seems to increase because the next time he has the opportunity to take a picture, he’s met with the sight of your bare pussy, all pretty and calling out to him. soft and wet, he can taste it already. he is caught so off guard that he doesn’t even realise that you are looking at him with a soft smile on your face.

toji who, has always made sure to leave no witnesses behind, changes his mind after setting his eyes on you. 

it was an easy job, he had to take out a sleazy executive and get paid. as usual. only this time, right after he had shot the man clean through his head, had he heard the softest whimper from the corner of the room. you were hiding under a desk, eyes wide with fear as toji approached you. his usual smirk plastered on his face. he couldn't help but notice how pretty you were, a pencil skirt that had ridden up with the way you had your knees pressed against your chest, showcasing your soft legs. your hair fell pretty against your face, your trembling form doing nothing but invite him closer. 

it wasn't his fault really, shiu didn't tell him that a vulnerable girl like you would be working overtime for your pervert boss. poor thing, couldn't stop being surrounded by perverts. toji didn't have to think twice though as he whisked you onto his shoulder, your world turning upside down as all you could see was his muscular back. neither did shiu question the assassin when he threw a young girl on the back of his car, cigarette smoking filling the vehicle as he rolled his eyes.

toji makes you fit right into his monotonous routine, ignoring your protests as he gives you half of the bed to share and splurges half of the cash from the hit to buy you pretty clothes. he doesn't think of it as a waste of money, especially not after he makes you model each of the lingerie he bought for you. 

he makes you wear the prettiest lace, and you comply with the way he cleans his gun as he watches you twirl for him. crotchless, garters, fancy knots — none of it matters when its in shreds after he is done with you.

you don't have it in you to fight either when he makes you suck him off every time he comes back home, his heavy balls kissing your chin as his dick makes its impression in your tight throat. his cum drips down your pretty lips as he laughs at the way he has you dumb and drooling.

you definitely stop complaining when he gives it to you good every night, your leg thrown over his shoulder while the other dangles off the bed as he promises to fuck a baby into you. his hips grinds into the sweltering heat of your cunt, groans escaping his lips. he knows you are enjoying yourself the way your legs wrap themselves around his waist, not letting him pull out even if he wanted to. 

he knows what kind of girl you are. the kind to wear strawberry flavoured lipgloss and vanilla perfume, like a doll wrapped up just for him to get his claws into. he knows that you are a hardworking girl, someone who burns the midnight oil instead of partying out like her peers. no, he knows you sit down at your desk dressed in frilly pajamas, going through his recorded lectures and notes so you could be the best in his class. 

he wants you like how the snake wanted eve to push her pearly white teeth into the apple, letting the sinful juice drip down her lips. he wants you like how evil wants carnage.

its not difficult for him either, to get a pretty thing like you under him. all he has to do is ask you to stay back in the big lecture hall, watch the way your throat bobs as he walks closer, a smirk playing on his lips. it does not take him long to have your lips wobble and your eyes filled with fresh tears.

its easy to have you pliant and ready to do as he pleases when he tells you that your grades have significantly dropped. he sees your animated face shake slowly, denying it internally. he smiles to himself with the panic painted on your face. 

"it happens," he lies, "girls like you work hard in the beginning and then get distracted with boys." he lies again. you shake your head fervently, hoping he sees your desperation. you deny it with honeyed words, your begging saccharine sweet to his ears.

you are angel incarnate and he's the devil's son. 

he has you on your knees trying to show him how good of a student you are, how you only focus on professor nanami's lectures. he has you worship his sinful cock like it was the holy truth of god. he doesnt mind the sticky pink gloss that coats his length. he welcomes it. it reminds him of how awful of a man he is.

he holds your hair out of your face like he cares, like he wants to be a supportive as he can. instead he uses all his force to pull you onto his dick over and over again. your sweeet moans and the noises of your restricting throat fills the hall, echoing throughout. he knows its fucked for him to have you serving him while countless other academics used that space to change the minds of students. 

he only cares about taking control of your mind. he cant help himself , not even when he pulls his throbbing cock out of your soft mouth so he can have your legs thrown on his shoulders. he pushes himself into you, the only preparation your virgin cunt had was his soft kiss to her and a rough two fingers gauging if he could fit.