・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

How can you? The strongest sorcerer of today has got you completely under his mercy, the weight of his big body pushing you down onto your shared bed.

You shiver and unconsciously rub your thighs together, hoping Gojo won’t notice that you’ve been bothering and annoying him all day in hopes of... this.

He studies you in amusement. “Baby, are you even tryin’?”

Without warning, you struggle against his hold, hoping to catch him off guard. At the end of the day, you’re still a powerful jujutsu sorcerer. Satoru might be The Strongest, but you’re definitely not going down without a fight—

Bad move.

Gojo merely laughs and tightens his grip, angling his body closer to place a knee right between your thighs. “That’s a real cute move, baby,” he whispers, his voice rough, “wanna try again?”

“Satoru..”

You don’t even realize that you’ve whimpered his name.

Gojo’s not dumb; he can tell that the mood has shifted... and he’s not surprised, not in the slightest. You’ve been staring at him all day with that expression on your face, eyelashes fluttering prettily and face dusted in a cute blush. Then, just as he’s about to kiss you until you beg him to stop—

You challenge him to a fight.

He immediately knew that you didn’t have ‘sparring’ in mind. No, you weren’t looking to train with him. What you had in mind was a different kind of ‘fight’...

And he’s more than happy to entertain you.

.

“I can’t, Toru, ah-” you jolt when he slams into you rougher, his long fingers holding your head up, “Ah, Toru-!”

“Still think you can take me in a fight, baby?” Gojo coos as he continues to drive into you, reveling in the sinful sounds of his skin slapping against yours, the filthy fluids that sticks to his thighs as it connects to your leaking cunt.

“N-no, mmm, slow down!”

And how can he, when you’re whimpering so pitifully yet arching your back to feel him more, moving backwards to meet his thrusts mid-way?

“Toru, can’t- can’t breathe!”

“Sorry, baby. Cursed energy’s a little out of control,” he chuckles before turning your head his way to place a big, fat kiss on your lips, “I’ll give you mouth-to-mouth instead, how ‘bout that?”

“Toru, oh, I’m gonna break!” you cry out, overstimulated, inching yourself away from him as you feel a familiar knot in your lower stomach.

Gojo just laughs at your attempt of getting away and places his hands on the sides of your hips, puuulllling you closer in one swift motion. When his eyes trail down lower, he’s instantly met with the sight of cum dripping down your thighs and onto the bed— his cum.

He feels his blood rush faster.

“Satoru-!?” you gasp when the lights above you flicker.

When you look up to see your boyfriend, he’s smiling... but it’s slightly off.

“S-Satoru..?”

His gaze travels down to you. Under the complete attention of his Six Eyes, you feel more exposed than ever before. You shift, just slightly, but it was enough for him to grip your wrists and pin them above your head.

“W-wait, let’s talk this out!” Knowing you’ve probably, unknowingly, woken up a side of Satoru you rarely see, you struggle against his hold, to no avail—

He just holds you down, as if your struggles means nothing to him. It was at this moment that you finally realize just how much he’d been going easy on you. All those playfights, those spars, he could’ve easily overpowered you, like this...

Eyes clouded in lust, you struggle again, harder this time.

He just sighs.

“Baby...”

The lamp flickers again. The excitement in his tone betrays the frown on his lips.

“You still wanna fight me?”

‎‎‎‎ㅤ

GETO SUGURU ✶ BRAT TAMER

“Hmm? Where did this come from?”

Of course, Geto would be the type to ask questions first and throw hands later.

You shrug. “Humor me, won’t you? Come on, Sugu!”

Geto just tilts his head and looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “I.. I’ll accidentally hurt you.”

Accidentally hurt you? More like he accidentally struck a nerve.

“Hey! Is that your way of saying I’m a weakling?”

But Geto is surprisingly unshakable about this. No amount of pouting makes him change his mind, you’re starting to think that your boyfriend has been hiding his full powers from you.

“Alright, alright. Just say you’re scared, Sugu.” you finally huff, crossing your arms.

His gaze flits to you.

You pause.

“Ha! So you’re scared you’ll lose to me, Sugu?”

He’s still smiling, but it’s different now.

Hook...

“Afraid I’ll whoop your ass and clown you?”

He stands up, making his way towards you.

Line...

“Guess I’ll just go find Gojo.”

Geto seizes your wrist.

“Okay, let’s fight.”

... and sinker.

.

You’ve always thought that Geto was more like the brains of the team, but right now you can’t even touch the man.

“You’re just gonna dodge, Sugu?” you groan in frustration when he moves just an inch beyond your reach, making you grasp at straws for the umpteenth time that day.

“Come on,” you chase after him, grumbling when he effortlessly steps away from your attack, causing you to land head-first onto the ground, “bring out the big guns! The curses! The dragon!”

Before you can get up, though, you feel something hard press against your back.

You gasp in surprise, barely registering the fact that it was your boyfriend’s knee pushing you down before a rope slithers through your hands, binding them together in a tight knot.

“Whoa! What-”

With one fluid motion, Geto has put you on his lap, face down, with your butt facing up—

Smack!

You yelp, feeling a sharp sting on your butt.

“You can’t even land a hit on me, baby. Do you seriously think you stand a chance if I’m actually using my technique?”

His voice is calm, steady—and that’s why it sounds even more mean.

“Wh- why did you-”

Smack!

His hand connects with the same spot and you yelp again, louder this time.

“Talking to me like that, and threatening me?” Geto shakes his head, ignoring your glassy eyes and your shocked face. Instead, he roughly pulls your skirt up, revealing your round butt that are now slightly red from his slaps, and caresses them softly.

“Ouch, untie me, Sugu-”

“What, so you can run to Gojo and ask him to ‘fight’ you?” he cuts you off, before—

Smack!

You arch your back in surprise, trying to worm yourself away from him, but he immediately pulls you back to his lap.

“Was this what you had in mind?” he grips your chin, clicking his tongue when he sees the dazed expression on your face.

Oh, you love it when he’s mean.

“Suguuu... it hurts...” you try not to smile when he’s looking at you like he wants to completely ruin you.

Geto breathes out shakily. He wants to kiss you so desperately, but he holds that desire back. You’ve been such a brat lately, you don’t deserve the carrot just yet.

He palms your breasts, squeezing them through your clothes. You moan under his touch, unconsciously leaning towards him for more.

With one hand still groping you, his other hand travels from your thigh to your butt, making circular motions. You flinch in preparation, making him chuckle.

“Scared, baby?”

That demeaning tone of his just turns you on more. You shake your head no.

Smack! comes the next one, a bit harsher than the ones before, making your eyes water as you cry out—

“No?” he coos, “well, you should be.”

‎‎‎‎ㅤ

SUKUNA RYOMEN ✶ C’MON, TRY HARDER

“I’ll spare you the pain and just tell you the results outright: you stand no chance against me, brat.”

You gape, hand still in mid-air, jujutsu mid-conjured in an attempt of launching a sneak attack before your lover extinguished the little bit of pride you had left.

“I— I’ll have you know that I am a Special Grade Sorcerer, thank you very much!” you flick your wrist towards him, powers shooting off from your palms.

Sukuna barely moves, dodging the attack with the grace of a prima ballerina. “Quite a fancy move. Would’ve hurt a bit... if it actually lands, that is.”

The way Sukuna wasn’t trying to mock you is the worst part of it all.

“Well, let it land then!”

“But that would defeat the purpose, no?”

“Of what?!”

“Of you, trying to see how you measure up to me.”

His nonchalant sentence gives rise to an anger so great, you think your vision momentarily goes white.

“Okay, fine.”

Fueled by rage, you take measured steps to him, a fake smile plastered on your face. Sukuna tilts his head, not moving from where he stands. You loop your arms around the back of his neck, bringing it down closer to you.

“Since you refuse to humor me, I’ll just blueball you and go.”

Almost immediately, his hands flies to your waist. “Oh? I’d like to see you try.”

There it is. Whenever he uses that mocking tone with you, it always gets you hot and bothered.

You kiss him deeply before he can annoy you any further. His grip on you tightens while your hand travels lower to palm the erection through his pants.

He groans, no doubt enjoying this. Slipping your hand inside, you find your way around his shaft and start giving it lazy strokes. Sukuna groans mid-kiss. It’s funny how the strongest sorcerer quickly becomes putty in your hands, leaning down to rest his chin on your shoulder while you continue to pump his length.

The squelch! squelch! immediately resounds in the room, his thick cock leaking creamy pre-cum as his breathing grows ragged. You feel your body temperature start to rise, too, but you are a woman on a mission.

Sukuna is distracted by the pleasure, so distracted that he doesn’t realize that you have conjured your powers with your other hand—

and you strike him on the back with rightful fury.

“Ha!” You break free from his touch, satisfied at the shocked look on his face. “Got you!”

Knowing that you’ve incurred the great Sukuna’s wrath, you prepare to break off into a run. Just as you turn your back on him, though, you feel a yank on your hair.

Suddenly, your world is flipped upside down. You barely have the moment to register what’s happening because Sukuna is already climbing on top of you, eyes blazing in fury.

“T... Time out?”

.

You don’t know how long it’s been.

Another smack! as Sukuna continues to pound into you, gazing down at you hungrily despite the fact that he’s been ravishing you for... how many hours now? You think you can almost see the sun.

Beneath him, you’re sobbing from the pleasure, laying limply in his hold as you let him have your way with you. You’re crying, then moaning, then screaming the next. Both your hands are bound by crimson ropes he conjured using his jujutsu, so intricate and yet so strong, it was impossible for you to break free.

“Ngh, please—!”

“Aww, what’s wrong? Weren’t you trying to fight me?” Sukuna huffs, the grin on his face nothing short of sadistic. “Go ahead and hit me again with that dirty trick of yours.”

“I-I’m sorry— ah!”

He thrusts into you deeper, his pulsing length quite literally knocking the air out of you. Your desperate apologies seems to excite him more, his grip on your thighs almost bruising.

“Not so clever now, huh?” Despite his violent thrusts, Sukuna’s words are still sharp, mocking, in that degrading tone that makes you uncontrollably wet—

Yet, just as he makes you mad with both anger and desire, you know that you drive him absolutely insane. “H-hah, sore loser—”

Sukuna chuckles in a low baritone, leaning down to cage you between his big arms. He brings his face down to your neck, then bites.

“Sukuna!”

“You get it now? You stand no chance against me.” He drags out his cock slowly, then slams it back again, eliciting a scream from you.

“Oh-oh-”

Sukuna cackles when your walls squeeze around his length, your cute orgasm making him spill his seed deep inside you. He gives your lower abdomen a caress, smirking when he feels how it’s slightly bulging from taking his monstrous length.

“Tired already? C’mon,” Sukuna coos, “try harder, won’t you?”

It’s been a few weeks since you left your last job, since you left Gojo. In that time, you’ve been incredibly busy; applying for jobs and moving. Unfortunately, a lot of your things had to be put in storage because there wasn’t room in your parents’ home for it all, so that’s cut into your savings. Funds were already running low and now they’re almost non-existent. On top of that, the job market has been completely atrocious.

You’re beginning to feel like the places you’re applying for immediately chuck your resume into the bin. The memory of Gojo telling you how bad your application had been always ringing in your head whenever you open the document to edit it. You know for a fact you’ve improved upon the formatting, and you have more actual experience now but the doubt still lingers.

The biggest pitfall for you is that you haven’t put Gojo down as a reference, not wanting them to call him up and rub it in his face that you’ve left his company. You’re not stupid though, you put down Nanami. So far, he’s told you he got one call and it was the one interview you had. It… didn’t go over so well. Living back at home should be more familiar but everything is overwhelming and you ended up late and, yeah, it just didn’t go well.

Luckily, you’re not completely unemployable, only in the field you actually want to be employed in. You managed to get a job at a pretty popular café, it makes your head spin on the particularly busy days but you’re not exactly here for the vibes so you make do. Some customers are horrendously rude, but people tend to be like that wherever you go.

Currently in the last hour of your shift and all you can think about is going home but then again, your parents aren’t exactly delightful company at the moment. They mean well but all they do is question you about what you’re doing and when you’ll get another job and asking about things they don’t need to be asking about.

Sometimes after work, you’ve taken to wandering around. Buying a little treat and sitting in a park to savour it, after the first time you’d realised why Gojo does it so often. Speaking of Gojo, he texts every now and again and you can never bring yourself to reply with any substance. After your one-night stand, things are awkward and you feel guilty.

Off in space and thinking to yourself when you’re brought back to the present. One of the last people you’re expecting to see standing right in front of you. Considering this café is fairly close to his company, you shouldn’t be too shocked to see Geto. He’s looking back at you like he’s just as surprised, that is until his expression falls into the usual pleasant smile he wears.

“Well, hello there,” his voice a deep, delightful contrast to the way you feel.

A small breath in and then you plaster your fake work smile all over your face, “Hi, what can I get for you today?”

“If you’re working here then I’m guessing you really did leave Satoru.”

The way he ignores your clear desire to keep this interaction short annoys you, “Can you please just tell me what you want?”

“What I want?” leaning in a little closer to the counter between the two of you, “I’d like for you to work with me.”

“I’m not interested in this little dance, Geto, just order before you hold up the line.”

“Your customer service skills could use a little work,” he jokes.

There’s a twitching in your eyebrow that’s starting to make itself known, your patience has been significantly cut into lately. You’ve been beaten down too much and him being annoying while you’re working the only job that would accept you, it’s seriously pissing you off.

Geto must notice because he backs off a little, “Triple shot espresso,” finally ordering.

“Size?”

“Biggest you got.” While you’re punching in his order, he asks, “What time you getting off?”

Glancing at the clock behind you before mindlessly answering, “Another half an hour.”

“I’ll wait for you, come to my table when you’re done.” He walks away after that, not really giving you a chance to refute him since he actually was shamelessly holding up the line.

Thirty minutes go by and you’re clocking off. Sure enough, Geto waited for you. Still sat at a table in the back corner of the café, laptop open in front of him and his coffee long gone. Though you’re hesitant, you’re also curious so you sit down across from him. Lounging on the chair a little unapologetically, tired after being on your feet all day.

Getting straight to the point, “What do you want?”

“Hold on,” he replies without looking at you, eyes firmly on his screen.

You watch him type away, clearly caught up in whatever work he’s wrapping up for the day. You’re bored and your curiosity is dwindling but the alternative is going home and you’re not quite ready for that yet.

Speaking again, “You know this café does have a closing time.”

“I’m aware.” Ghost of a smile on Geto’s lips at your snarky comment. “Do you have this much attitude with Satoru?”

“I’m being quite polite with you actually.”

Him bringing up Gojo makes your heart tug, it feels like you’re betraying him just by sitting here.

The soft tap of Geto’s laptop shutting draws your eyes to his, he tilts his head at you, “You alright?”

“I’m glorious,” it’s a little too sarcastic for what you read as genuine concern. “Sorry, I’m fine, just wondering what exactly you want from me?”

“What I’ve wanted from the beginning, I’d like for you to work at my company.”

“I don’t really want to work for you just so you can one up Gojo in whatever feud you’ve got going on.”

“Loyalty is a good trait to have,” he sits back a bit more, adding, “However, I genuinely would like for you to work with me,” hand waving a little, “Satoru’s reaction would merely be an added bonus.”

“For you maybe,” you sigh.

A single brow raising at you, “If you’re so upset, why did you leave?”

“Is it relevant?”

“It might be.”

Your tongue clicks at him, “It’s not.”

“Whatever you say,” he relents, choosing not to push any further. At least, not on that topic, “So, about my job offer?”

Another sigh, “Can I think about it?”

He’s now wearing an expression that reads satisfaction, “Sure, though I expect a solid answer the next time I see you.”

“If that’s all,” moving to get up.

He stops you by saying, “You don’t want to keep me company a bit longer?”

“I’m sure you have actual friends to keep you company, Geto,” you chuckle. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home. Today has been a long day.”

Home isn’t where you really want to be but you’re tired and you need to be alone to think. You really want to make some substantial savings, enough so you can move out of your parents’ house and you’re not going to do that on a casual wage. Something steady with a contract, full-time hours, that’s what you need. And that’s what Geto’s offering you.

All you feel lately is guilt and it’s starting to make you touchy. This isn’t even your fault in the first place, your circumstances are the result of someone else’s poor decision making and you have no one to talk to about it. It’s pointless thinking about that right now, you need to be thinking about your future and what will benefit you in the long term.

The next time you run into Geto is only a few days later, you have a feeling it’s not an accident on his behalf, but it hardly matters since you don’t have a way to contact him. Again, he waits for you to finish up work. The wait a little longer than last time, you feel bad but he seems fine working in that same corner.

By the time you’re off the clock and across from him, his laptop is already closed and he’s clearly waiting for you to give him your official answer. You’re worrying your lower lip with your teeth; you’ve thought about this over and over for the past few days and you still aren’t sure on your response. You know what you want to say, and what you’re going to say, you just feel conflicted.

Finally opening your mouth to say, “I have one question first.”

He shuffles in his seat, “Sure.”

“Why?” Letting the one word settle before clarifying, “Why do you want to hire me so bad? There are plenty of people more qualified and far less reluctant… You know, people who apply for the job.”

“I can’t tell if you’re modest or dense,” arms crossing over his chest, “did you not notice that Satoru’s dealings were significantly improved by your hiring?”

“I’m not that modest, of course I noticed but he’s terrible with rich assholes and that tends to come with the field,” you point at him, “you don’t have that problem, you’re not exactly kind but people seem to look past it since you’re all pretty faced and polite smiles.”

Gojo has a bad habit of saying how he feels, mocking people in a blatantly obvious way when he’s pushed a little too far. Geto, from what you’ve noticed, isn’t too far from having the same low tolerance but he’ll soften his face and insult you in an underhanded way you might not immediately notice.

“Regardless, you were a valuable asset to his company, and I feel you’d be just as valuable to mine. Your name isn’t unknown you know? You’re heavily attached to him, people recognise you. That’s not worthless.” He looks like he’s growing a little bored trying to convince you of your appeal, swapping directions. “I’ve answered you; I expect you have an answer for me?”

“I’ll work for you,” rubbing at the back of your neck, “but I’m going to be clear that I’m still hesitant, I feel—”

“—Guilty?” he finishes, “Don’t, it’s business. Making it personal never ends well.”

“Big words from a guy who has a personal rivalry with his former best friend.”

“I’d describe it more as friendly competition.”

You scoff a little, “Yeah, I’m sure you would.”

“How about instead of talking about the past, we celebrate your employment?”

Scepticism all over your face, “And why would I do that?”

“To humour me and my good mood.”

“I don’t really like to mix personal and business.”

His eyes squint at you, chin resting in his palm atop the table, “You never got personal with Satoru?”

Flashes of the last time you were with Gojo running through your head makes your skin heat up some. “No, I didn’t.”

“Alright,” he’s grinning, and you can tell he doesn’t quite believe you. Hell, you don’t believe you.

You pull your bag onto your lap and look through it, scavenging through it to retrieve the resume you’d printed off after you’d decided you’d say yes to Geto. It’s a little wrinkled as you hand it over to him.

“That has my contact details on it.”

He takes it from you, looking it over a little judgementally, “Thanks, I’ll be in touch.” And because he can’t help himself, “Have you been applying to jobs with this?”

“Oh my god, come on,” you whinge a little, “it is not that bad!”

A stifled laugh sounds from him, “Touched a nerve there, huh?”

“Shut up,” grumbling isn’t professional, but you don’t care right now, “email me all the information I’ll need, unless you’ve changed your mind after seeing my resume.”

“Hardly,” tucking it away into his laptop case, “you’ll be hearing from me.”

Working for Geto isn’t like what you expected, you aren’t quite sure what you were expecting but it’s not what you got. Maybe in your head you were thinking he’d be more malicious in his actions, or that he’d be trying extra hard to get private information about Gojo’s company out of you but that’s not the case. It’s the same work you did for Gojo, it’s actually a little easier considering Geto doesn’t sneak off or show up late.

On your second week now and while you still have bouts of guilt, you’re beginning to feel better. The pay doing wonders for your attitude, not a huge increase from working with Gojo but compared to the café it is. Unfortunately, a non-insignificant amount of the money you make goes to payments like the storage unit, bills, debt. Moving out is still in the distant future.

A part of you was holding onto hope that maybe if you saved enough, you could move back to the other side of the city and work for Gojo again. That’s starting to look unrealistic now, saving enough will take too long and even though he said he wouldn’t, he will have to hire someone else.

The rhythmic sound of the pen you’re tapping against your wooden desk is a telltale sign of unrest. One that doesn’t elude Geto as he walks past your desk, stopping in front of it and reaching over to gently pull the pen from your hand.

“Some people might find that annoying,” he spins the pen over his fingers fluidly.

Spinning your chair around for emphasis as you reply, “Good thing it’s just me here then.”

“You’re not that far from my office,” his head tilts back towards his door only a few steps away, “I’ve been listening to this noise every day for the past two weeks, do I need to distract you with more work?”

You shrug, “I’m a multitasker.”

“I’ve noticed.” The pen is placed back on your desk.

“Are you on your way somewhere or was I just bothering you?”

“I’m a multitasker too,” he grins, “you first, and then the printer room.”

“Shouldn’t I go?” you fix him with a curious stare, “What’s the point in having a personal assistant if you don’t let them assist you?”

“I thought you might be incredibly busy with your pen.”

“You’re hilarious,” raising to your feet, “I’ll go to the printing room for you.”

You’ve started to walk off when he calls after you, “Don’t get lost.”

The response he gets from you is a quick look back with an unimpressed expression. Since working here, you’ve gotten lost one time. It was embarrassing because you had to email him to come find you, too nervous to stop anyone from working. Now, every time you go off somewhere, he’s bringing it up. Hilarious.

When you’re done with your small trip, you gingerly knock on Geto’s door. Entering once he makes a sound of acknowledgement and striding in to place the papers down in front of him. You need to talk with him about a couple things, so you sit down in one of the chairs across from him, legs crossing.

His gaze flicks up from the papers he’s just received to you, “Can I help you?”

“You have a meeting tomorrow before midday.”

“I remember.”

“Also, there’s a woman who keeps emailing and calling, trying to get ahold of you.” You’re trying not to sound nosey but you’re pretty sure you’re failing, “It’s becoming almost as concerning as it is distracting.”

Face scrunching in distaste, “What does she want?”

“I’m pretty sure she just wants you.”

“Normally she wants something specific.”

“She won’t talk to me.” The woman has gotten increasingly more aggressive in her pursuit of Geto. When you’d initially picked up the phone to talk with her, she seemed incredibly offput by the sound of your voice. “Who is she?”

“A valuable client,” answering simply, then adding, “eccentric and a tad obsessive but valuable.”

“Right, okay.” You nod at him, you’re not quite sure how you feel about that but what you do know is that it’s becoming inconvenient. “Well, can you deal with her then? She’s distracting and also getting to be a little rude.” You’re sugarcoating it, she’s getting nasty.

“Yeah, I’ll handle it.” His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose like he’s getting a headache just thinking about talking to her.

“Is her business worth it?”

“Unfortunately.”

You leave him alone after that, too tempted to ask more questions and not wanting to upset him over it. It’s none of your business, you don’t need to know about him and his interpersonal relationships.

By the time that you’re supposed to be going home, you find yourself moving slower. Not ready yet, so you stay at your desk. Going through emails and drafting responses for tomorrow. It’ll make things go a bit quicker in the morning at least, so that’s a bonus.

It’s not until Geto leaves his office that you realise he’d been staying later too. Stopping by your desk as he slips his coat on, “Why haven’t you left yet?”

Hesitating before replying, “I just… had some work I had to get done first.”

“I know that can’t be true,” slight laugh from him, like the idea of you being behind on work is ridiculous.  

“Well, it is,” pouting a bit.

You can feel the way he considers you, his eyes scanning your movements as you pretend to be incredibly busy with work you’d neglected. Eventually, he hums like he’s come to a decision, “Wanna have dinner together?”

That stops you and you find it a little odd how you consider it, “Sure.” Logging out of your computer and packing your things up. It’s not like you’ve got anywhere to be and dinner with Geto sounds more appetising than dinner at home.

“Great,” you both walk to the elevator together and he adds, “I’m guessing that work is gonna have to wait until tomorrow?”

“Fine, you caught me,” relenting, “I’m just incredibly meticulous.”

He hums, a little amused but clearly not buying it. “I’m sure.”

“Hey!” you take offence, “I am meticulous.”

“I know you are,” the elevator dings and you both step on, “I also know you’re lying.”

“You can’t know that.”

“‘Course I can.”

Muttering back, “I think you’re lying.”

“Ah, you think,” he grins.

“Do you get a kick out of annoying your employees or something?”

“You’re the only employee I annoy.”

Choosing to ignore the idea of being special in any sort of way and replying, “If you keep lying like this your pants are gonna set on fire.”

Brow raising to you, joking, “Is that a threat?”

“If you’re not careful,” another ding signalling your arrival at the basement.

Still smiling, “Noted.”

You follow him off the elevator and walk to his car together. It’s sleek and black and far out of your price range. It feels weird just sitting in it, like you’re doing something wrong. It must be showing on your face because Geto raises his brow in question.

“You okay?”

“Yep,” and you briefly consider not continuing your sentence, “your car is super fancy, it feels like I’m somehow sitting in the seat weird.”

He laughs at that, “Now that you’re mentioning it, you are sitting a little odd.”

“Okay, it’s not nice to poke fun,” buckling yourself in, “your stupid car is stupid.”

“I thought it was fancy?”

“I regret talking to you.”

“I don’t.”

The car ride is spent bickering back and forth in a similar fashion, it distracts you enough that you don’t really notice where he’s taking you until you’re in another parking garage. You really should’ve paid more attention.

Brows furrowing as you take in your surroundings, “Where are we?”

“My apartment’s garage,” he says matter of fact.

That spins you, “What?”

While your brain is catching up, Geto’s stepped out of the car. When you don’t immediately get out, he walks to your side and opens the door for you. He doesn’t get a second to speak, you’re immediately asking.

“What are we doing at your apartment?” And despite your reluctance, you exit the vehicle, “I thought we were getting dinner?”

“I asked if you wanted to have dinner together,” the car door closes, “I never said where.”

“You got me on a technicality,” he’d make good fae.

“Don’t worry,” he guides you through the garage, “I’m a good cook.”

“Yeah, you better be after tricking me.”

Credit where credit is due, he knows his way around the kitchen. You get the luxury of observing him work, you had tried to help but he sidelined you when you’d almost cut yourself. A total fluke by the way, you’re more than capable. He hadn’t listened to your excuses though and banished you to the other side of the counter.

His movements are confident; he knows what he’s doing. Sleeves rolled up his forearms, so they don’t get dirty. Sturdier than you would’ve pegged him for. His long hair is pulled back into a ponytail, keeping it out of the way. It’s swishing slightly as he moves and it amuses you, he has very nice hair.

Watching him dish up dinner, you absentmindedly comment, “You’d make a good housewife.”

He pauses before replying, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was meant as one.”

“Would you be a working husband then?”

“Naturally,” you take your plate, eyes tracking him as he moves to sit next to you at the countertop, “I’d be a very good husband.”

He’s smiling like he finds you to be exhausting, “Eat your food.”

Dinner is good and you say as much while eating, it’s been a while since you’ve eaten something so tasty. Geto really would make a good partner, the fact he’s spent all day at work and still came home and cooked a whole meal shouldn’t be impressive, but it is. When you’d relayed this to him, he’d told you that you’re too easily impressed and maybe that’s true.

After you’ve both eaten, you’re relaxing on the couch together. The conversation is casual and you don’t have to try too hard to think of something to say. Any lull in conversation isn’t awkward either, the both of you seemingly comfortable in the others presence. It’s nice.

For the first time in a while, you’re feeling good. Not overthinking anything and just allowing yourself to be in this moment.

“By the way,” you start after another pause in conversation, “I’ve been meaning to mention…”

Hum of acknowledgement from him, signalling you to continue.

“I feel underutilised.”

“In what way?”

“At work,” you clarify, “you’re so on top of things, I barely feel like I’m helping.”

“You are,” he smiles, seemingly endeared by your concern, “immensely.”

Eyes rolling at him, hardly satisfied, “Geto—”

“—I’m serious,” he says your name. “Things have been running smoothly for me, you’re incredibly meticulous,” it’s a slightly mocking tone, reminding you of your earlier words.

Your head falls to the back of the couch, looking at him out the corner of your eye, “I’m not someone who can be placated with empty compliments.”

“No, I didn’t think you would be,” he continues smiling gently.

“Seriously.” You turn your head to look at him properly, “Are you hiding work from me or something?”

He drops his head onto the couch and faces you, mirroring your pose, “It’s only your first couple weeks, I had to go a little easy on you.”

Doubt is written all over your features, “I don’t know if you’re that kind.”

“You really have a low opinion of me,” his hand raises and clutches over his chest like you’ve wounded him.

You shrug back, “I think it’s significantly improved after dinner.”

“Oh, is that all it took?” He chuckles.

“I’m easy to please.”

“I wonder about that.”

A quiet falls over the both of you, still facing each other. It feels as though you’ve gotten closer to him and you can’t tell if he’s the one who moved or if it was you. The hand Geto had on his chest moves to the side of your face, sliding down to your neck. It’s an impossibly long and drawn-out moment where you’re not quite sure what he’s going to do or what’s happening between the two of you.

All your thoughts dissipate as soon as he leans in and kisses you slow, tentative. Focusing only on how his lips feel against yours, soft and careful. You kiss back and it has him responding eagerly. Moving closer to you, other hand on your waist.

His thumb strokes under your chin to encourage you to tilt your head back for him, you comply. Mouths slotting together hotly, his tongue swiping against your lower lip to ask for entry. You’re mindlessly granting it, stifling down a small shiver as he licks against your own tongue.

You’re looping your arms around his neck and he’s welcoming it, hold on your waist sliding to your back and pulling you closer into him. The longer the kiss lasts, the needier he gets. Turning from soft and sweet to hot and messy. Sucking on your tongue a little as he pulls back.

And even though he pulls back, you don’t have a real chance to speak because he’s back on you in a second. It’s intoxicating and all consuming, head filling with fog pleasantly. Involuntarily mewling against him when he nips you and it’s only spurring him on.

Grabbing you and placing you on top his lap, your pussy warm over his erection. Able to feel just how aroused he’s getting. Geto grunts a little when you shift, lowering yourself onto him a bit more. He embraces the pressure though, grip on your hips tight and slightly rocking you.

Small grinds down onto him making the both of you moan into the kiss, breaths coming harder and intermingling. You find yourself wishing he didn’t still have his hair up, wanting to run your fingers through it. His fingers slip upwards, playing with the hem of your shirt, tickling along your exposed skin.

Completely caught up in the moment, rutting down into him as he swallows your moans. His hips moving up slightly to meet yours, clearly just as lost in this as you. It’s your phone buzzing in your back pocket that pulls your attention. Reluctantly pulling back because it might be important, your eyes linger a little on his shiny lips.

Then you’re tugging your phone out of your pocket, still sat on top of Geto. “I’m sorry,” you’re still a little breathless, “It might be important.” You don’t mention it could be your parents.

He hums back at you, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin. Eyes a little glassy as he watches you read your phone screen. He doesn’t miss the way you still as your eyes glance over it.

The message is from Gojo, and you’re immediately hit with a whole slew of complicated emotions. It simply reads, ‘Do you have free time soon?’

Geto’s head tilts at you, he can feel the tone shift. Removing his hands from under your shirt, and asking, “Are you okay?”

You blink a couple times and look back to him, “What? Yeah, I’m fine!” Removing yourself from his lap a little awkwardly, “But… I think I’m going to go home for tonight.”

“I didn’t—”

“—No! You didn’t do anything wrong, Geto, honest.” You don’t want him to think he’s upset you. “I just… think this happened a little fast, I’m sort of dealing with a lot right now and the last thing I want to do is rush into something with you… my boss.”

“I understand,” he nods slowly, standing up as well, “I want you to know, that wasn’t my intention bringing you here.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t,” you smile, trying to add a bit of levity.

His head tilts a little lower to fix you with a serious look, “It wasn’t.”

“Okay, though I may still hold this over your head at work,” walking with him to the door, “maybe even get a raise.”

“Don’t push it,” he snickers, “especially not when you were all too eagerly rubbing—”

You push his side, “—Don’t you push it.” Lingering a bit at the entryway, “I hope we’ll still be able to work together.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course we can,” he rubs the back of his neck, “I was too hasty… it won’t happen again, unless you want it to.”

The appreciation you have for Geto only grows with how chill he’s being about this. “Thank you for dinner, I had a nice time.”

“You’re welcome anytime,” he smiles and it feels genuine, “I can drive you home?”

“No, that’s okay.” you don’t want him knowing you’re living with your parents, and you think you might need a little distance for now, “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

A single nod, “Get home safe.”

The whole trip home, you can’t stop thinking about what happened. About Gojo messaging you, his timing is impeccable really. There’s still a lot of things you’re feeling and rationally you know you’re not betraying Gojo in any way but the heavy weight on your chest remains regardless.

The next day, you’re sitting at your desk tending to your work. A little worried that things will be awkward with Geto, not having had the chance to have a full conversation with him today. Though, that’s not unusual for you both so you’re not sure if you’re overthinking it or not.

Wondering if things will be okay between the two of you today when he stops in front of you. Hands in his pockets, waiting patiently for you to acknowledge his presence.

Your eyes scan the time and then you’re telling him, “You’re going to be late.”

“We’re going to be late,” he corrects.

A little confused by that, “Huh?”

“You’re coming with me, come on.”

That certainly throws you for a loop, but you don’t get much of a chance to be confused, following after him. It wasn’t frequent that Gojo took you with him to meetings, not that it’s unusual or anything. If you really thought about it, you’d have to say that Gojo might be the unusual one.

You are thankful that things do seem to be normal between Geto and yourself, he’s not icing you out or anything. Everything seems to be the same and you feel like you relax at the realisation, breaths coming a bit easier now. The lingering discomfort is coming from your current setting, rather than your relationship to your boss.

Meetings are always uncomfortable for you, left feeling out of place and in the way. You’re not expected to contribute anything or do anything at all really. So, you take notes, writing down everything you can as it’s brought up. It’s come in handy a couple times, now it’s just a habit. It gives you something to do, makes you look busy and attentive, instead of uncomfortable and uncertain.

Jotting down most things said, not really paying much attention to what exactly it is you’re writing. Repeating down someone’s words when Geto leans over to say, “Yeah, make sure you get that down.”

Breathing out an amused sound at it when you realise the unimportance of what you’ve written, ‘People need to understand the vision.’ Fairly inoffensive but not really worth your ink.

You mutter back at him, “Pay attention.”

“But I’m getting bored,” he grins.

“Not my problem.”

You’re trying not to pay too much attention to him, not wanting to encourage his behaviour or get distracted yourself. These past couple weeks have you softening towards him, he’s a good boss and he cares about his company a lot. Annoying sometimes but you suppose you’re used to that.

You can’t afford yourself getting swept up in him, he’s far too appealing and you already know how good of a kisser he is… and these are exactly the kind of thoughts you were trying to avoid by not paying him much mind.

The rest of the meeting wraps up fairly smoothly, despite Geto’s attempts to entertain himself by bothering you every now and again. You’re busy chastising him when you’re walking through the lobby, “That was totally unprofessional, Geto. What if they decide they don’t want to work with you anymore?”

“Don’t overreact, I wasn’t that bad,” he nudges your side lightly, “plus, they love me.”

“You sure are full of yourself.”

“Should you be talking to your boss that way?”

“Absolutely,” nudging him back, “I need to make sure you’re kept in—”

Words dying off all at once because you’re very suddenly faced with Gojo right in front of you. Blinking up at him dumbly, not even sure if he’s really there. All the guilt you’d been ignoring flooding you at once, head very quickly feeling light. Why is he even here?

Geto talks before either of you do, trying to smooth over the awkwardness, “Good afternoon, Satoru.”

Gojo doesn’t even react, addressing only you, “What are you doing here?”

“I… I’m here on business,” you mumble out, having a hard time keeping eye contact. Your heart is racing in your chest, and it feels like there’s a lump in your throat.

“What brings you here, Satoru?” Geto asks the question you both want the answer to, though you imagine he’s curious for a different reason.

“Business,” he replies, clearly aware that him being here threatens Geto’s position with this company.

“Well, we don’t want to hold you up,” you force a smile, “we’ll be on our way.” Attempting to find an out from this conversation.

Gojo doesn’t let it happen, “Ah, I don’t think so,” he grasps your hand, “I’ve got time before my meeting, we need to talk.”

“I’m kind of on the clock, Gojo.” His hand around yours is warm, it’s a contrast to the cold chill running through the rest of your body. “And you’re probably running late already,” your smile feels sad, but you push through it, “we can talk another time.”

Giving his hand a single squeeze before slipping from his hold and shuffling quickly to the exit. This big building now feels suffocating. You don’t even check to see if Geto’s followed you out, mind only focused on getting to the car. That’s a second time now, a second time where you’re actually enjoying your new job and working for Geto without the shame tugging at the back of your brain. Only for it to slam into you all at once. Some luck you have, it’s almost like the universe punishing you or something less dramatic.

You’re resting against the side of the car, waiting for Geto to catch up. Feeling on edge, like you might cry. The last time you’d seen Gojo in person, you’d been wrapped up in his arms kept warm and safe. To be so intimate with him only to fumble over your own words and act so cold after, you feel stupid.

Eyes fixed on your shoes like they’re the most interesting thing in the world, seeing Geto’s own coming into view when he approaches you.

“You doing okay?”

“You’ve been asking that a lot lately,” looking to him, “how about you?”

By the look on his face, you can tell he doesn’t understand why you’re asking. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, I was just asking cause… you know,” rocking side to side on your feet, “if Gojo’s here then it means they might choose to—”

He waves a hand dismissively, “—Eh, I already knew they were probably gonna do something like this.” Mouth pulling to the side as he says, “I can’t tell if they’re bold or diabolical, booking us both in around the same time.”

You add, “Probably both.”

“You look sad,” his comment is decidedly not needed but he made it anyway, you suppose he doesn’t want to talk about himself.

“Just… overwhelmed, I wasn’t expecting to run into Gojo. No offence but it feels dirty to work for you sometimes.”

It’s painfully silent for a moment and you wonder if you did offend him. Concern gone when he asks, “Did you need a hug or something?”

Glare pointed, “No.”

A chuckle leaves him at your distaste, “Then get in the car and let’s leave.”

You had half expected for Gojo to text you again after you’d run into him, but he didn’t, phone suspiciously silent. It has you more on edge than if he had tried calling you. Still thinking about it the next day, wondering if maybe you should reach out to him first this time and take him up on his offer, just get it all over with.

To be honest, you don’t even know what you were expecting. If you’re working in the same field with him, you were obviously going to run into each other at some point. Were you hoping he’d never find out about you working for Geto? Was that realistic of you? Should you even feel guilty? It’s not personal, you just really needed money and Geto happened to show up when you were sick of applying for jobs.

You’re choosing to chalk your guilt up to the fact you slept with him before you’d left, you don’t… regret it but maybe things would’ve been easier for you if you hadn’t. The amount you think about that night is probably bordering on excessive. The memory of his big hands on your body still firmly planted in your mind, along with the way his lips felt against yours.

A new kind of guilt travels up your spine, kissing Geto after having been with Gojo feels weird. If Gojo hadn’t messaged at that moment, would you have gone all the way with your current boss. What ifs don’t exactly help your situation, but you may be spiralling a bit.

A familiar, soft hum sounds from nearby, “Hm, you’re slacking off.”

Your response is automatic, “You can’t talk,” and then you’re registering just who had said that. “What? How did you even get up here?”

Gojo grins, pulling one of the chairs against the wall to the front of your desk. Sitting down in it casually, like he’s not shown up completely unexpectedly. “It’s amazing how far you can get when you act like you belong somewhere,” quickly adding, “and are willing to lie.”

He really does have a great sense of time because Geto’s not here, having gone out earlier for some secret meeting he wouldn’t disclose to you. The idea that Gojo might have had something to do with that briefly crossing your mind before you shake it.

“You got time now?” His arms crossed at you.

“I’m literally in the middle of my workday.”

“Oh please,” he grumbles. “You were daydreaming.”

Flipping it back on him, “Don’t you have work to do?”

“Sure, but I thought seeing you was more important.”

Unable to help the small giddy feeling that runs through you at that, it’s not like he ever prioritises work over his whims anyway but still. You change the topic, feeling sheepish asking, “How have you been?”

He’s refusing to give you a direct answer, “How do you think I’ve been?”

“Gojo—”

“—Oh, it’s ‘Gojo’ now?” evil grin on his face, “It was ‘Satoru’ when I was balls deep inside you.”

Your lips purse at that, caught off guard and not quite sure how he wants you to respond. Turns out you don’t need to because he carries on.

“Why are you working here?” he’s pouting now, “Suguru sucks, I’m a much better boss.”

“You know I didn’t want to leave,” you sigh. “I ran into him a couple weeks ago; he offered me a job again and after thinking about it… I took it.”

“Is this why you won’t reply to any of my texts?”

“No…”

“You’ve been hurting my feelings, sweetie,” still pouting, “had me wondering if I’d done something wrong.”

You answer quickly then, “No.” Settling back into your seat, “Things have just been a bit… hard for me lately. None of it is because of you.”

“Then can you tell me what the hell is going on with you?” Gesturing at nothing frustratedly, “I know you put Nanami down as a reference, why wouldn’t you put me? You know, your former boss.”

“I felt it would be cruel.”

He softens at that, his brows unfurrowing. “I’m taking that to mean you at least care about me.”

“Of course I do.” The thought of him walking around thinking you don’t care for him hurts you… a lot. You can’t exactly blame him though, to him, you’ve probably been frustratingly secretive and evasive.

“Are you happy here?”

Hesitating a bit before replying, “Yes.” Because you are… happy here. Or at least, you’re happier here compared to the café.

There’s a look on his face that tells you he’s seeing right through you. “Your position is still open.”

“You need to fill it.”

“I’m not going to.”

“That’s stupid.” And it is stupid, but your heart skips a beat.

Raising to his feet, he stretches his long limbs, “I don’t think so.”

You’re standing up instinctively, intending to walk him to the elevator.

Gojo’s rounding your desk though, standing in front of you, “I intend to keep it open until you come back, I told you that.”

“And I’m telling you that that’s unrealistic.”

He cups the side of your face and smiles, “Don’t care.” Then he pulls you in for a hug, holding you for a few moments before speaking again, “I’ve gotta go, I don’t wanna be here when Suguru gets back.”

“How did you even know he was out?” If it comes out accusatory that’s because it is, pretty certain now that he’s done something.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.”

You start, “Gojo—”

“—Ah,” cutting you off again, “I’ll see you later.”

And you’re sure that he kisses the top of your head before walking off. As you watch him leave, you half hope he’ll come back but that’s just selfish. You know if you told him everything, he’d help, he absolutely would. But you’re not going to put him in that position. Neither being his former employee nor one night stand entitles you to asking for financial help.

After he leaves, you take your break. Not getting to see Geto beforehand, you don’t really want to at the moment. Feeling incredibly cut open and raw, on the verge of telling everything to the first person you see because the weight of it all is getting to you. It has been for weeks.

There’s a utility closet on the floor below yours that doesn’t get utilised much and you’ve taken to hiding out in there when you need to be alone. The slightly dusty items keeping you company as you wallow, it’s truly the only time you get to be by yourself. At home has your parents and when you’re at your desk you’re, well, working. The streets are filled with people, on the weekend and during lunch. So, this small closet has become a great safe space.

If you tried, you could probably cry. You wonder if it would make you feel better. Instead of doing that, you find an old broom and turn it upside down, resting it against some shelves in front of you. Reaching into your pocket, you pull out a pad of sticky notes and a pen. Crudely drawing down a face, trying to make it look as approachable as you can. Then you stick it onto the broom.

“I should probably name you,” humming in thought, “You will now be called… Dusty.”

Dusty’s sticky note face flutters to the ground as soon as you finish the sentence, and you try not to take it personally.

“Okay, I know it’s not the best name but it’s the best I’ve got.” Picking up the bit of paper, you stick it to Dusty once more, running your fingers over the sticky part a few times in hopes it’ll coax it into staying this time.

Once you’re satisfied, you back off until you’re resting against the wall opposite him. “Maybe feeling like I’m talking to someone will help.” Gesturing at the broom, “That’s where you come into play, Dusty.”

You take in a slow breath and breathe it out before starting, “I miss my old life,” shuffling on your feet a little because it feels weird to say out loud, “I miss my coworkers and… Satoru.” Head thumping back against the wall, “The worst part is that I have no one to blame but myself… and I guess my ex-roommate situationship… sorta.”

You get distracted with an anger you’d stuffed down ages ago, only to be pulled from it very suddenly when Dusty falls to the ground with a loud clash. It causes you to jump. The image of Dusty face down on the ground resonates with you though. Emotionally in the same state as him.

Huffing out a small chuckle, “Yeah, I feel the same, Dusty.”

Your phone ringing in your pocket draws your attention away from the broom before you can prop it back upright. Geto’s caller ID scrawled across the screen, pausing for a moment but ultimately picking up. He is your boss; you should pick up even if it is your lunch break.

Beginning to slide down the wall to sit when you answer, “Hello?”

 “Where are you?” Always so straight to the point.

Eyes fixed on Dusty, “…On my lunch break.”

“So… the sounds I’m hearing from this closet are just my imagination?”

Pausing again, glancing at the closed door, “…Yes?”

He hangs up the phone at that, choosing to just walk into the closet. Immediately faced with the sight of a sad broom on the floor and then over at you sitting awkwardly against the far-right wall.

“…How was your meeting?” Your smile is uncomfortable on your face.

Geto looks to the broom, then to you, then back to the broom. “Bad,” walking into the room and picking up Dusty. Miraculously—or maybe not so much—the sticky note face is still there, and he points at it quizzically, “You do this?”

“No, that’d be weird.”

A soft laugh leaves him as he places it back down. Then he moves to sit beside you on the floor. The sight of his expensive suit resting against a dusty closets wall and floor tickles you a little. You both don’t speak, just sitting in each other’s presence.

You get curious though, “Why was your meeting bad?”

“Wasn’t real,” he grumbles, “Satoru set it up, I’m guessing this is a little taste of revenge for stealing you away. Wasting my valuable time.”

The idea of his time being valuable but making space to sit on the floor in this room with you is amusing. At least now you know why Gojo had such good timing and didn’t stick around. You’re not going to tell Geto about that though.

Choosing to change the topic again, “How did you even know where I was?”

“I’ve seen you head to this floor before a few times,” he shrugs, “I got curious, imagine my surprise to find you in here talking to a broom.”

“Of course, the one time I do that I get caught.”

“You were talking to the broom then?”

“His name is Dusty,” correcting him jokingly, “and yeah.”

He offers, “Do you want to talk to me instead?”

“Not really.”

Laughing a little at your immediate response, “I’ll try not to take offence.”

Gesturing across the room as you say, “If I wanted to talk to an actual person I wouldn’t be talking to a broom.”

He corrects you this time, “Dusty.”

You snicker at that, “Right. Dusty.”

Geto doesn’t force anymore information out of you, he just stays with you while you consider things. Maybe the fact that there’s no pressure is the reason behind why you decide to open up to him a bit. “I’ve been having a hard time financially; it’s why I had to leave my job and move here. I’m living with my parents.”

“Satoru doesn’t know?”

“Nope,” your head turns to look at him, finding him already looking back at you, “I was worried he’d do something drastic.” A bitter laugh leaving you, “I’m already in debt, I don’t want to owe him too.”

Watching you for a bit and then asking, “How bad is it?”

“Bad.” Sighing as you look forward again.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, you didn’t do anything.” Ghost of a smile on your lips directed at him.

“I could—”

“—No, you couldn’t.”

“Okay, then in that case, I’m here if you want to talk about it some more.”

You face him once more, he’s closer than you thought, and everything feels tense. Geto’s eyes flick to your lips and you’re reminded of what happened just the other night. Head flipping forward before anything can happen.

Oddly enough, you think kissing him that night brought you two closer together. Though, you don’t know if that’s the same for him. The quiet is nice, it doesn’t feel so pitiful with him here beside you.

Despite yourself, you start talking again, “I had a roommate.”

“Hm?”

“Before I moved,” you sigh, “I had a roommate, an old friend sort of. Our relationship was… complicated.” Your legs draw up and you tuck your knees to your chest, “He moved out last minute and made it hard for me to stay in the apartment.”

Geto’s brows draw up, “You don’t know where he is?”

“Nope.” Lips down turning, pissed off at the memory, “Just left a shitty note and ran off.” It’s not the full story but it’s more than anyone else has gotten up until now.

After a moments pause, Geto asks, “Have you tried looking for him?”

“There wouldn’t be much point,” shrugging, “he doesn’t want to be found and it’s not like I’d want him to be my roommate again,” you laugh a little.

Geto doesn’t laugh, “I’m assuming he owes you some money though.”

More than some, “Sure but I’m pretty certain he’s not going to cough it up even if I did find him.” You stand up now, “Don’t worry too much about it Geto, what’s done is done.”

He gets to his feet as well, “It might be worth looking for him.”

“Nah,” you crack your back, done talking about this now.

A bit of regret is creeping up your spine, you don’t enjoy talking about these kinds of things and oversharing with your boss is not the move. In saying that though, it was nice to share even if it was just a bit. There’s so much you’ve been keeping to yourself for so long, for someone to listen felt good even if you’re feeling a little exposed because of it.

As if Geto can sense your unease, he says unprompted, “I’m worried about the meeting yesterday.”

You look to him, choosing to stay quiet because he doesn’t seem to be finished talking.

“I think they’ll end up going with Satoru and that’s frustrating for a multitude of reasons,” he sighs, “I’ve been trying to deal with them for some time now, to have them look elsewhere in the final hour…” he trails off before finishing, “What’s done is done though.” Repeating your words back at you.

“I get the frustration,” you offer a smile. You’d seen how annoyed Gojo got whenever Geto got business with a company he’d been working. To see the other side is a little weird, especially since you find yourself still rooting for Gojo. “Thanks for sharing.”

“Yeah, you too.” He places a hand atop your head, and pretends to be stern, “Now get back to work, breaks over.”

“Yessir,” you reply stiffly and with a curt nod.

The pair of you leave that stuffy closet and head back upstairs to finish off the rest of the workday.

The end of your third week working with Geto is the same as it has been. You’d been worried that confiding in him like you did—or even the kiss—would change your working relationship but things have been smooth. If you had to make note of anything changing, you’d say that you both seem to be closer now.

Typically, when you open up to people in similar ways, you’re later flooded with regret. Asking yourself why you’d shared so much, with Geto it’s not so bad. He’s hard to read though, sometimes you find yourself watching his expressions extra close to try and see how he’s feeling but it’s not easy at all. You’d hate to play poker with him.

You’re just about running low on things to make yourself busy with when Geto’s asking you to come into his office. Entering hesitantly, suddenly feeling a whole lot like you’re being called into the principal’s office for some reason.

“Our last meeting…” he starts, “you were taking note of everything said.”

“Yeah.” Nodding back.

“Could I look at them?”

“Sure,” you turn to head back out, stating as you go, “though I don’t know how helpful it’ll be.”

When you walk back, Geto’s patiently waiting for your notes. Taking them from your extended hand and immediately flicking through them. His brows pinch a little as he glances over everything you had written down.

“You’ve used some shorthand,” glaring at it a little like that will make it more readable for him, “I don’t recognise it.”

“It’s not real shorthand…” you look away, feeling a little shy, “it’s just so I can read it back… I only do it when the conversation is going too quickly.”

“Sit down,” he points to the chair to your side.

Now you really feel like you’re in trouble, sitting down as he said.

After a moment, he looks up from the pages and looks you over, “Why are you sitting like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like a kicked puppy.”

“I’m sitting normally,” arms crossing in front of you, “why do I need to stay in here?”

“So you can decipher these notes,” finally cracking a smile.

You feel yourself physically relax at his smile, “You were there for the meeting, Geto. You should remember what was said.”

“I was distracted,” shrugging it off.

“You were bored.”

Grinning a little wider at you, “That’s what I said.”

You roll your eyes at him but move the chair closer to his desk so you can better assist him in his reread. You weren’t wrong in doubting the usefulness of your notes. They’d spent a good chunk of the meeting repeating themselves and refusing to communicate properly what they were looking for. The idea of Gojo sitting through a meeting with them is funny, you can’t imagine he’d behave. It brings into question why Geto feels like they’re going with Gojo over him.

After you’ve gone over everything, Geto groans and relaxes further into his chair. “They’re so uncooperative.” Sighing, “The meeting was just as unproductive as I remember it being.”

Joking with him a little, “You’re not so confident they love you anymore?”

“Way to kick a man when he’s down,” but he smiles a little, clearly not hurt.

“So,” you prompt, “what are you going to do now?”

“I’m not entirely sure.” His fingers are tapping rhythmically on the desk, a familiar tune you can’t quite place. It then stops suddenly, “By any chance, were you still working for Satoru when they reached out?”

You pause a little at his question, giving him the benefit of the doubt by answering, “We reached out to them but never got a substantial response.”

That piques his interest a little, “What did—”

Before he can finish asking, you shut him down professionally, “—I’m not at liberty to discuss details pertaining to my previous employment.”

“Of course not,” he smiles politely.

“If that’s all,” you plaster a pleasant look on your face and wait for him to speak.

“Yes, that’s all. Thank you,” he says your name and with that you leave his office.

The whole interaction is painted with the quiet fact that you both know this has done damage to your budding friendship. It hurts more than you thought it would, now questioning if he was just buttering you up to be able to ask you questions like that without any push back. Even if you didn’t feel loyalty to Gojo, you’re a professional and you wouldn’t talk about a company’s inner workings after leaving.

Of course it happens when you were just thinking about how nice it felt to open up. And maybe it’s still true that talking to someone was good, it’s just now laced with a severe distaste and faint feeling of betrayal. Whatever, this was your own blunder, just another in a long list of things you’ve messed up recently.

You’re choosing not to think too hard about it, you need this job. It just means you won’t be trusting him anytime soon. This sucks. You’ve not been having an especially easy time making friends here and to have the one person you thought of as one seemingly use you for information… sucks.

Just a few more hours and you get to clock off and go home for a whole couple days. The weekend looks especially welcoming now, your parents will be gone for a bit, and you’ll get some down time. Having an empty house sounds so good, you’ll be able to exist in your space without them asking questions you can’t or don’t have the answers to.

That weekend you were so looking forward to flies by in the blink of an eye. Though you did get some time to indulge in some hobbies you’d been neglecting, you even sat in the lounge and watched a movie. Truly, your life is so exciting lately.

It’s unfortunate that it’s already Sunday though, your parents will be home later in the evening, and you’ll have to get yourself emotionally ready to go into work tomorrow. You don’t know if you’re ready to see Geto, unsure how you’ll react now that you feel used. You’d truly believed him when he said he was hiring you for you and not because of your connection to Gojo.

You’re in the middle of your evening routine when there’s a knock at the door. It has you pausing and considering ignoring whoever it may be but then it comes again and you relent. Heading towards the door and opening it a crack. The sight of Gojo on your doorstep truly stuns you, mouth opening at him because how does he even know you’re here?

He leans down, apparently pleased with your shock. “You gonna invite me in, sweetheart?”

You’re not sure if it’s such a good idea but you’ve missed him so much, so you’re stepping to the side and opening the door more for him to step inside. He enters easily, slipping his shoes off before wandering further into the house.

You follow after him, deciding a little late to be a good host. “Would you like some tea?”

“Sure,” he replies chirpily, finding his own way to the kitchen and sitting at the table.

The decently sized kitchen feels much smaller with him in it, his frame making the chairs look ridiculous. Choosing to ignore the way your heart races in his presence, you silently make two cups of tea. Piling sugar into Gojo’s, remembering that he can’t drink it without.

Placing the cup down in front of him, you ask, “How did you know to find me here?”

The only response you get is a smile and the view of him taking a sip of his tea. You groan a little at his reluctance, but if you had to guess, he probably just annoyed it out of Nanami. Moving, you sit down across from him and nurse your own mug.

“Why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you,” he states plainly, “I’ve missed you.”

It comes easily to him but saying you missed him as well is hard for you and you can’t really understand why.

Gojo doesn’t let the silence linger long, “How’s Suguru treating you?”

He meant it conversationally but it’s just another sharp reminder that you’ve gotten close to someone who probably doesn’t care much for you at all. “Good.”

When you look up from your tea, his eyes are looking back at you. It’s hard to keep eye contact so you look back to your warm drink, “I– uhm,” you shift awkwardly, “I miss working for you though.”

Reply fast and exactly what you expected, “Come back.”

“I can’t, I really want to,” you look back to him, holding his gaze firmly, “I didn’t leave because I wanted to, Gojo. I had to uproot my whole life; I’m living with my parents.”

“Tell me why then,” he frowns at you, frustration bleeding through his tone, “why did you leave? Why are you living here? Why won’t you just let me help you?”

Your brow twitches, “Am I supposed to ask my boss for financial help? Am I supposed to complain about my personal issues to you and hope you whisk me away and fix them all? I’m an adult, Gojo, and I have no right to ask that of you.”

“You were always more than just an employee to me,” he says your name, “You slept with me and you still didn’t give me any sort of explanation.”

“It was a one-night stand,” you brush it off, trying to lessen it. That’s how you’ve been rationalising it to yourself for the past couple months.

“Not to me,” pointing at you accusatorily, “and you can’t really believe that.”

“Gojo—”

“—I’m sick of not knowing, I’m sick of worrying about you,” his arms fold stubbornly, “I’m not leaving until you tell me everything.”

“It’s not exactly something I want to talk about,” especially not after recent events. You can tell by the expression on Gojo’s face that he’s serious though, and you can do without your parents coming home to see this stranger in their house. “The short of it is that I had a roommate, he moved out without notice, I couldn’t afford my apartment anymore, I moved home.”

Not satisfied, asking, “And what’s the long of it?”

“If I tell you everything, you’re just going to pity me and try to fix it all.”

“Is that so bad?”

“Yes! I don’t want to owe you too, Gojo.”

He doesn’t miss it, your phrasing catching his attention, “Too?”

“I may or may not be in debt.” In this specific moment, you’re finding the ceiling to be very interesting.

Your name comes sighed from him, “What kind of mess have you gotten into?”

“I didn’t get myself into any mess, thank you very much.” You’re finding yourself backed into a corner.

Instead of forcing your hand, Gojo suggests, “If I promise to not do anything you don’t agree to, will you tell me what’s really been going on.”

At his offer, you look him over carefully. Quietly deciding if you should or shouldn’t. Maybe at one point in your life, he was just your employer, but he became much more than that pretty quickly and you might’ve been tricking yourself by pretending otherwise. You really have missed him so much and you can’t find it in yourself to keep pushing him away.

You find that his suggestion gives you no reason to hide anything from him. You’d only been worried about what he might do, not what he might think of you. So, you’re relenting. “Fine, but you have to promise,” you hold your hand out across the table, “pinkie promise.”

Gojo can’t hide the way he softens at that, faithfully raising his hand to wrap his pinkie around yours to seal it. “I promise.”

You nod like it’s some sort of binding spell and pull back. Exhaling softly as you begin, “My roommate and I had a complex and sometimes difficult… relationship… we weren’t dating but we’d been more than friends. I’d known him for a long time, it’s why I trusted him to live with me.”

The way Gojo looks is displeased already and you can’t quite pin down why but you carry on, “At some point I guess he got really into gambling,” you shrug, “he put me down as his guarantor without my knowledge. Obviously not legally but he wasn’t gambling legally so I suppose it hardly matters.”

Gojo’s frown deepens, cutting in to ask, “And he moved out after that?”

“Yeah, I guess he got too far in over his own head and felt like he had to run.” It’s taking a lot for you to tell this story; it’s been a while now since this happened and you’ve not told anyone all the details like this. Ever. “He left a note behind, but it didn’t say anything about where he was going or if he’d come back, or even if he’d pay me back.”

There’s a pause from you but that’s not the end of your story and Gojo doesn’t interject again, so you keep talking. “I started making the payments for him, I mean there’s not really anything else I could do in that position. Eventually my savings ran low and the apartment was expensive by myself, so I resigned and moved home.”

Your finger traces the rim of your mug, “It looked bad for a moment though, finding a new job was hard but that’s when Geto showed up at the café I was working at and offered me a position with him.” Risking a glance up as you add, “It didn’t feel… right, working for him but I’m not exactly in the position to be worrying about that stuff right now.”

Gojo looks the angriest you’ve ever seen, you almost can’t recognise him. He takes in a controlled breath to calm himself and he relaxes a little. “I’m glad you finally told me.”

And you can tell that’s not what he really wants to say but he still means it, “I wanted to tell you so many times, Gojo. It’s just… I’m not exactly proud of this and I didn’t want you to offer me money.”

“Oh, I’m still going to offer,” he replies immediately, “if you ever decide you want me to pay the debt, I will.”

“No,” your gaze is unwavering. “Not only will I feel like I owe you, It’d be you paying for him and that doesn’t feel right. You don’t get to fix this for him.”

“That’s exactly what you’re doing,” he points out.

“Yeah, but at least I knew him.”

“At least I can afford it.”

“Okay, ouch.” You huff a small laugh despite the accurate jab. “Now I’m definitely declining your offer.”

He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, “Tch, you’re still stubborn.”

You ignore his unneeded and obvious comment, “How have you been, Gojo? Really?” You never did get a straight answer.

“Bad, my whole company is imploding because my favourite employee left.”

“You’re so full of it,” you call him out, “from what I can tell you’re going to get that big deal soon.”

“Oh?” he grins, “Suguru not feeling so sure of himself anymore?”

Standing to your feet and collecting the mugs, “You both have to leave me out of this feud you’ve got going on, I’m a professional.”

“Both of us,” his eyes track your movements, “what the hell has he been asking?”

“It’s nothing,” walking over to the sink to wash up, “Gojo I’m serious, leave me out of this.”

“Did you tell him the same thing?” he’s gotten up himself, standing right behind you. Both his arms cage your sides and leave you trapped facing the sink.

You’re trying to ignore the body heat radiating off him, focusing closely on how you rinse your mug. His face is so close and if you turned even a little to the side it’d become much more intimate than your heart can take.

“I told him I can’t discuss information about my previous employment.”

He hums low, “I bet you were all professional about it too.”

Placing the mugs in the drying rack, you turn around so you’re facing him. He’d refused to move back, letting you brush against him as you’d turned. “What are you doing, Gojo?”

“If I said I’m trying to seduce you, how would that make you feel?”

Truthfully, you don’t dislike it, but you can’t ignore the feelings of this being too soon. “You don’t want to do that.”

His head tilts at you, “I don’t?” Hand reaching up to caress your cheek.

The comfort you find in him is immense, feeling a weight off your chest by finally getting to tell him everything. You’re hesitant to start anything with him though, you’ve only just gotten to see each other for longer than a moment. Not to mention, you’d kissed Geto only a week ago.

When he leans in, you place a hand over his mouth, “I’m serious, Gojo.”

The intensity in his gaze tells you he’s communicating the same thing.

You rush out, “Geto and I kissed.”

A hand reaches up and grabs your wrist, pulling it away from his mouth. His only question, “Why?”

“I don’t really know…” you look away from him, “I was at his place, and we kissed… it didn’t go any further than that.”

As of right now, you and Gojo aren’t anything to each other but former employer and employee—and one-night stands. So, you aren’t really sure why you felt like you owed him that information, but it felt wrong to withhold it.

“So… you won’t kiss me because you kissed him?” He hasn’t stepped back, still invading your personal space.

“I’m saying you don’t want to kiss me because of that.”

“That’s odd,” he murmurs. “Because I could swear I still want to kiss you.”

That stumps you, deciding to be blunt, “You’re not mad?”

“Oh, I’m furious.” He touches you so gently, holding your hand, “Just… not at you.”

And since you’re on a roll of honesty, “I’ve missed you.”

“Good.” His eyes search yours, both hands holding your face, “Because I’ve missed you like crazy.”

His lips on yours are familiar and have you melting all too quickly, hands clutching onto his shirt as you meet his needy kisses. He’s not taking it slow, too desperate to. Immediately kissing you messily, tongue meeting yours. You hum against him, letting him guide your kiss hotly.

You’re pressed back against the countertop; he’s moved in closer even though there wasn’t much space between the two of you to begin with. One of his hands move from your face to slide down your body, grasping your hip firmly. A small sound resembling a moan passes from you to him and he swallows it down greedily.

Hand now on your back and gliding under your shirt, resting against your bare skin. His direct touch lights something aflame inside you, knees nearly buckling from how much you’re enjoying just a kiss.

Now that he’s finally got his hands on you, he’s so touchy feely. Hands groping all over your body, both sneaking under the waistband of your sleep shorts and palming your ass. You’re gasping against him over it, breaking the messy kiss.

A string of saliva connecting your lips still, it snaps when you talk, “Gojo, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Enjoying the moment?” He lets his lips trail lower, tickling against your cheek, then down your neck. His hands still firmly planted on the globes of your ass.

“You might be enjoying it too much– hff—”

Gojo’s pulled your cheeks apart, tips of his fingers grazing your wet pussy through your panties. Your forehead collapses against his chest and your hands clutch at his shirt harder, legs very quickly getting wobbly.

“Go easy on me,” he speaks into the top of your head, “I haven’t had the chance to touch you in fucking ages.”

Using his middle finger, he traces and prods at your hole. Chest vibrating with a pleasant hum at how wet you seem to be. Playing with you just to work you up, you can’t help but think of it as a kind of punishment for avoiding him.

Breaths coming faster, “We’re not doing this in my parents’ kitchen.”

“And what exactly is it we’re doing?” He teases further, just to embarrass you for assuming anything.

You look up to him, chin resting on his chest as you shoot him with a glare.

“I don’t know what you’re hoping that will do,” he presses a kiss to your lips, “but you’re really turning me on.”

And just as you’re about to shove some expletives his way, he’s nearly penetrating you through your underwear. Mewls leaving you at the friction, more slick dripping from you and coating your panties.

“Fuck– okay, fine,” he caves without any further complaint from you, “where’s your room, sweetie?”

It takes quite the effort for you to nod in the correct direction, “Over there.”

Finally, he removes his hands from your pants, holding your hand as he drags you over to where you signalled. “It’s cute,” he comments once inside.

The walls are still painted a slightly too bright pink, old posters you hadn’t taken down still plastered on them. The furniture is a little outdated, you’d gotten everything new when you’d finally been able to move out and that’s all in storage. Your bed isn’t even meant for more than one person.

Muttering back, “Shut up.” Your parents had painted the walls when they’d found out they were having a girl and never let you change it, even as you matured. The posters you’d kept up because you’re still you.

“I didn’t say anything bad,” he chuckles. His eyes fix on the bed, “This is gonna be a tight squeeze…” he purses his lips and then smiles, “though I suppose it was last time too—”

He grunts as you jab him in the side, “Not a necessary comment.”

“I disagree,” Gojo turns to you grinning, “but we can agree to disagree.”

His hands are all over you again, tugging at your shirt as he walks you back to the bed in the corner. Mouth slotting over yours after he’s pulled off your sleep shirt, met with your bare breasts because you weren’t expecting visitors. At the sight of you, he’s distracted. Groping at your tits, pinching your nipples.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he says low, staring at your boobs instead of you.

You’re trying to ignore how worked up he’s getting you, “You’re such a– hah– romantic.”

“Tonight I’m seducing you,” he pushes you down onto the bed, “tomorrow I can be romantic.”

Your pants are next to go, yanked down your legs, along with your panties. Left completely naked on your own bed while he’s fully dressed, it hardly seems fair. He’s leaning over you just as you’re about to complain about it, then your words are hard to vocalise when he’s got his mouth around your nipple. Tongue flicking at you cruelly, relishing how you jolt each time he does.

The old bed creaks under his added weight and your squirming. His eyes heated as he looks up to keep eye contact with you, two fingers slipping inside your hot cunt as he continues licking and sucking at you. Biting at you gently when his digits are as deep inside you as he can get them. The moan you let out is embarrassingly sinful, your hand coming up to smother down the noises escaping you.

Gojo finally lets your nipple go with a lewd pop, “I was right,” his fingers crook upwards and stroke against the spot he knows drives you wild, “it’s gonna be a tight fit.”

And he’s laughing at his own joke but all you can do is mutter back a half-hearted, “Pervert.”

He doesn’t dignify it with a response, feeling it’s already been pretty well established how he gets over you. Moving his attention instead to your other nipple, sucking and biting hickeys around it before enveloping it in his mouth. Not letting up on how he’s fingering you open, scissoring apart his fingers.

Keeping you open just to savour how you drip fresh slick down his digits and onto the bed spread. It’s pitiful how on edge you already feel, he knows your body so well. Remembering exactly how to touch you to rile you up.

Thumb sliding over your clit, rubbing messy circles around it. He’s avoiding touching your sensitive nerves directly, teasing you carefully. It’s completely frustrating, he could have you cumming in ten seconds flat but he’s not letting you. Instead, he’s carefully building your orgasm up but never pushing you over that ledge.

Bright eyes looking through full lashes at you, mouth coming off your nipple. He makes a show of it, giving you a final harsh lick, tongue hanging from his mouth as he retreats. It’s hot and makes you whimper a little, though that could also be his fingers fucking knuckle deep and stroking your weak spot.

He’s grinning at your reaction, “Have I said how much I’ve missed you, I can’t remember?”

“I think– hng– think you mentioned it,” it’s hard to keep focus on him. Your high so close, if you just ignore how condescendingly he’s smiling at you, you could—

“Close?” Gojo asks.

You nod back quickly at him, biting into your lower lip. Then, he cruelly pulls his fingers from you. Leaving you a panting mess craving for your release. Your thighs rub together, trying to make up for what you lost but it can’t compare even a little bit.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” lips on yours, kissing you deep before continuing, “but I feel the need to tease you a little extra, since you left me and all.”

He does, however, grace your eyes by removing his shirt. Torso just as toned and enticing as the last time you saw it. His belt comes undone next, popping the button on his pants but not doing any more than that. Returning his attention back to you.

Hands gliding up and down the sides of your body, ever the clingy type in how he pulls at your soft skin. It’s while he’s palming at you that you tell him, “You don’t have all night for this,” informing him, “my parents come back tonight.”

“How scandalous,” he’s amused despite the ticking clock.

“Gojo, I’m serious.”

“I know you are,” his hands push your legs apart, wide, “and I was too. You hurt my feelings so I’m gonna edge you a little.” Before you can whine about that he says, “Just a bit! I’m not gonna leave here without fucking that divine pussy of yours, I swear. I’m not crazy.”

Humming happily as he runs a thumb between your folds, pressing into your clit. Circling it directly this time, focusing his touch straight on your sensitive nub. You’re squirming on the bed over it, wanting to shut your legs and being unable to. Gojo’s got himself firmly planted between your open legs and making it difficult for you to do anything but take the overwhelming pleasure.

And then he stops, looking around the bed as he mentions, “Your bed really is tiny.”

You’re shaking from your almost high, but you still manage to bite back, “It’s– hff– it’s not tiny you’re just a giant– ah!—”

He’d climbed off the foot of your bed while you were talking and tugged you down to the edge of it by your ankles, effectively cutting you off. Able to feel his breath against your dripping cunt, it’s making you needier.

“You’re so pretty,” mouthing against your inner thighs as he rambles, “I can’t even sit in my office without think about you. It’s cruel, really. I get hard at the memory of that night and can’t leave my office because I can’t fucking stand.”

He dives headfirst into your pussy after that, licking at you crudely. His tongue slithering inside your gooey hole. Just as good at this as you remember him being, slurping at you and letting it drip all over his face.

Gojo’s eyes roll a little, having desperately missed the taste of you. Moaning into your cunt, he can’t help but get carried away. Your squirming and whining only spurring him on, sucking on your clit. Not able to leave your hole unfilled for long though, tonguing you again. Making out with your pussy lips obscenely.

Getting so caught up in it that he’s almost forgetting that he’s meant to be edging you. Feeling the telltale shudders running through you and pulling away, eyes amused as he watches your hole twitch around nothing. You’re clawing at the sheets as you whimper sadly at the loss.

“Mm sorry,” you whinge at him, because you really are but you also don’t want to take anymore edging.

“Barely heard from you,” his fingers circle around your entrance, “only a few replies– do you know how much I held back from texting you and when I did I only sometimes got a reply.” Those fingers stretching you open again, “So mean to me.”

You’d apologise more, maybe even try to explain yourself but he’s finger fucking you stupid and it’s making it hard to form a coherent thought. Barely even coming down from your almost high and he’s immediately touching you again. This cycle is going to kill you, feeling like your nerves themselves are vibrating. Desperate ache beginning in the pit of your stomach and buzzing down to your sensitive cunt.

Thoughts are all fuzzy in your head as he reaches so deep inside you, not caressing you like he was earlier. Properly fucking you with his fingers, palm slapping against your clit. The harshness of it feels so damn good, urgently needing it deep and quick.

You’re begging before you even register it, “Please, Gojo– hnn– please let me cum– hah– I’m so sorry– hng!– I’m sorry!”

He bites your inner thigh in response, hard enough to leave a mark and make you mewl. Then he sucks over it, finally laving over it with his tongue as he parts. “I know you are,” he faux pouts.

And since he seems to be on a cruelty streak tonight, he continues driving you crazy for a little bit longer than the times before. Dangerously close to the precipice, back arching meanly for it. Only to be let down once more, his fingers ripping from you so callously at the very last second.

It’s agony, tears filling your waterline. You’re even sitting up straight this time, lower lip quivering as you sulk down at Gojo. He’s smiling pleasantly at you, resting his head on your thigh and looking up like he’s not the mastermind behind your current torture.

Glibly adding, “You know, this is more a punishment for me,” nosing at your soft skin, “I love watching you cum– I love making you cum.”

Threading your fingers through his hair, you tug back and frown at him. He can only grin back at you, apparently exactly where he wants to be. You whine at him, “You’re being mean.”

“You don’t have to cry about it,” he reaches up and swipes a thumb high on your cheekbone, wiping away a tear.

“I’m not crying because you’re mean,” tugging on his hair a little harsher, “I’m crying cause I’m frustrated.”

“I know,” he laughs breathlessly, and with how you’ve pulled his head back further, you’re able to see his throat bob as he swallows, “It’s kinda cute of you.”

“Gojo—”

“—Mmm,” his face pulls in distaste, “I liked it better when you were calling me Satoru.”

You hate how attracted to him you are right now. Pulled back by his hair, eyes alight with mischief and mouth formed into a large smile. His canines are on display in a way that makes you shiver. He’d just sunk them into your skin no more than a few minutes ago and the thought turns you on further.

“What ya thinking about?” His question coming singsong and lilted.

You’re feeling spiteful though, so you don’t answer, “Nothing.”

“Such an evil woman,” he overdramatises, but leans forward, raising as he goes. “So mean to me,” your hand releases him and he presses kisses to your lips over and over, continuing to talk as he does, “doesn’t call, doesn’t text, refers to me unfamiliarly, won’t tell me what she’s thinking about.”

You’re letting him complain, getting lost in his kisses as he does. Wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him a little closer and kiss him a little deeper. Preferring he keep his mouth open only to swallow down your moans, not wanting him to pull back anymore.

While he’s kissing you, he uses his middle finger to delicately circle your clit. Moaning back at you when you let slip a pitiful, little whimper. Beginning to get hypersensitive from all his teasing. He was already able to get you close quickly, it’s even worse with all this edging.

Clinging to him a little more desperately the closer you get, hoping that maybe this time will be different. Maybe he’s done teasing you and even though you won’t be cumming on his dick you will finally get to cum.

And just as you’re stuck in your delusion of him forgetting why he’s doing this to you in the first place, he stops. Hand leaving the warmth of in between your thighs and the slick of your drooling cunt to hold your face. Greedily sucking on your tongue and all your moans, the sad moans of an almost orgasm engulfed by him.

When he pulls back, he does his best to comfort your shaking form. Soft pecks over your cheeks, kissing away some of your tears, “That was the last time, I promise.”

“It has to be,” you sound pathetic even to yourself, “I can’t take anymore.”

“I know,” he coos at you, “and you’ve done such a good job.”

Gojo parts from you completely, standing back so he can pull off his pants and boxers. His dick bobbing under its own weight, leaking precum profusely. It’s now that you realise just how much he’s probably been holding back.

And holding back he has been. Gojo’s damn near driven himself to insanity with all this edging. Close to cumming in his pants a few times just from touching you and getting to hear you moan again. Feeling deprived of you for so long that he can’t believe he actually managed to pull off playing with you without caving first.

“Lay back for me, yeah?” he nods back at your bed, “we’re gonna do our best to make this work.”

You have nothing snarky to say, feeling uncharacteristically docile as you slide back on the bed. Gojo appreciates it deeply, not knowing if he can prolong this much more. Climbing on the bed after you and parting your legs with his warm hands.

There’s no more preamble, quickly stretching you open on the head of his cock. Hissing through his teeth at how wet and creamy you are around his sensitive tip. His head falls back as he sinks deeper and deeper inside your gooey hole, inch by delicious inch. Rumbling moan pouring from him, unable to hold it back.

It’s been so long and he somehow feels bigger than last time, he’s splitting you open obscenely. It’s making your head spin, the overwhelming pleasure of him stuffing you full so satisfying you’re getting lost in it.

Then, while Gojo is biting back a whine, you’re cumming around him and he’s whimpering pitifully. Your plush walls hugging him tight and sucking him in needily, begging him for his whole dick. Obviously, he grants it, slamming the rest of the way inside and relishing in how your pussy bulges around him.

“Hah– I wasn’t even fully inside you yet,” he’s as breathless over it as he is happy, “that’s– fuuck– that’s hot. You’re so fucking cute.”

You’re still shuddering and shaking through your first and most powerful orgasm. Mind completely free of any kind of coherent thought. Only registering how fucking good you feel, how stuffed you feel and how good it is and how full your pussy is and—

Gojo taps the side of your face, “Stay with me, sweetie. I haven’t even started moving yet.”

Eyes blearily looking back at him, lazy ecstasy plastered all over your expression. The sight of you fills him with a kind of cuteness aggression, his hips slamming into you harshly as he leans down to crowd against you. Wrapping you in his arms and hugging you tight as he fucks you stupid.

His pelvis slapping against you fills the room with the slickest and lewdest sounds you’ve heard. The both of you moaning at each other, his name repeated from you over and over as he sheathes himself in your snug warmth repeatedly.

No coherent words come from you, nothing other than Satoru’s name. You can’t even be sure you’ve stopped cumming, feeling so high on the pleasure that it doesn’t feel like it has an end or a beginning anymore.

“Satoru– hng– hh—” Anything else you try to spit out isn’t understood, not to you anyways.

Though, Gojo seems to understand you fine, “I know, pretty,” he speaks against your ear, and it makes you shake, “you’re doing– hng– doing so good for me, sweetie. Taking it so well.”

He can’t stop his movements, it feels far too good to want to anyways. Your tight cunt squeezing so lovingly around him, it’s got his brain all fuzzy with lust. You respond to him so well, every time he moves, or speaks, you react in a way that’s intoxicating to him. The idea of you leaving again quite literally agonising to him.

Letting the insecurity get the better of him but doing his best to not let on. “If you ghost me again after this,” he nips your ear, pulling back to look you in the eyes and stilling his hips. Trying to show just how weighted his words are, “I won’t be nearly as relaxed about it next time.”

“Mm– hah– I– uhm I’m not gonna,” your legs wrap around his waist and tug him in impossibly closer, “Satoru, I promise.”

His dick twitches inside you, “I’ll be holding you to that.”

Kissing you after that, as if to seal the promise. Stifling down the pair of your moans when he starts fucking you again. It’s wet and sloppy and desperate, you’re trying your best to meet his thrusts but every time you try, his own hips slam you back down onto the bed. The very loud bed, creaking as he fucks you stupid.

Gojo’s feeling clingy tonight, so he keeps hugging himself to you despite his desire to see how he’s opening up your little hole. Just knowing you’re spilling slick all over his cock, no doubt a creamy ring at the base of his shaft.

“You’re– hff– you’re gonna message me back now, aren’t you?”

“Uh huh,” you hum back, trying to focus on him but your mind keeps slipping back to the overwhelming pleasure.

“Gonna let me– hng– let me take you out,” especially sharp thrust, “go on a date with me.”

That catches your attention, stumbling out, “You wanna– hnn– go on a date with me?”

“Of course I do,” he groans, like it’s so obvious. “I want to date you, regularly.” He grabs you by your chin and angles you so you’re looking at him straight, “Which is why you’re going to message me back.”

“I will– ngh– I will.”

He uses his hold on your chin to nod your head up and down. “I know you will.” Moving back so he can raise to his knees, he adds, “Now, let’s do something about that time limit.”

Shooting you an amused grin and then grabbing your hips, manhandling you and angling your hips upwards a bit. Using his hold on you to fuck you down onto him as he thrusts forward. Roughly thrusting into you and using his newfound leverage to his benefit. He even gets to watch how he shoves himself inside you, getting the glorious view of your greedy pussy taking him in so well.

He was so right too, you’re dribbling arousal all around him. Cock coated in a white sheen, both your fluids mixing together and making an indecent mess. It makes him deliriously happy to see how you’re connected, his heart hammering in his chest with excitement. You’re such a pretty thing, completely perfect to him.

If you disappear on him again, he’s going to do something drastic. He’s not thinking about that right now though, not when he has you in his hands and gets to fuck you until you’re squirming and whimpering his name. Devolving into a mess in his hold, he should try edging you again sometime. The payoff is huge, you’re not even aware of the little orgasms you’ve been continuously having while he fucks you.

The thrusts he’s delivering to you truly have your world tilting on its axis, you’d thought he had you a mess before but now you feel insane. It’s like he’s doubled his efforts; you can’t exactly pin down why. Brain not functioning well enough to properly understand the time limit he’s referring to. Officially dumb on his dick.

Drunk on pleasure, cock ramming into your g-spot regularly. It feels like his tip kisses your womb with how deep he’s reaching inside you. Stimulated so deeply that you’re panting and grinding yourself down against him. Back arched upwards further, even with him holding you up by your hips.

With a few more weighted thrusts and heavy drags of his thick cock, you’re cumming again. Your moans aren’t even audible at first, the force of your orgasm that strong. Tears pricking at your waterline again, crying from how fucking good it feels to let go and cum so hard. You can’t hear anything but the blood rushing through your head. Vision going a little fuzzy as you indulge in your high.

That very high of yours, triggers Gojo’s. Finally letting himself succumb to the immense ecstasy running through his veins. He shudders and shakes through it, pulling you tight to his pelvis as he dumps his load deep inside your womb. Overstuffing your cunt with his spend, delighting in how he fills you to the point it’s leaking out back around him. Memories of the last time he came inside you flashing in his mind and pulling a whine from him.

You go limp soon after, only jolting with shocks of the come down. Gojo hums happily as he slips his dick from you, laying your lower half back down gently onto the mattress. Then, because he’s a pervert, he pushes on your lower stomach and watches as more of his cum drools from your pussy hole.

You’re far too lazy and docile to fight him on his actions though, busy basking in your bliss. Stretching yourself out like a cat and moaning at it. Gojo leans down and takes your lips with his, kissing you slow.

Pulling back and saying, “Don’t tempt me, sweetheart. You and I both know I could keep going.”

You roll your eyes at him and he smiles. Then he shoves his arms under you and holds you to him, flopping over so he’s on his back on your mattress with you on top. It’s the only way you can both semi-comfortably rest on the small bed together. You enjoy this part, the part where he holds you for a little bit. He feels warm and safe, just like last time.

After a moment, you remember the reason why you can’t stay like this. Raising your head to look at him, “You can’t stay.”

“Just another ten minutes,” he wraps his arms around you tighter, whinging.

You urge, “Satoru—”

“—Mm, I like that,” he all but purrs, happy with your use of his name.

“Seriously,” you shove at his shoulder, “you cannot stay here.”

“Fine,” groaning with his displeasure, “but I fully expect that next time we do this, it’s an all-night thing.”

You don’t get to protest in anyway, his lips shutting you up with a deep kiss. It lasts for a moment, Gojo gets a little carried away with it. He does relent though, grumbling a little as he gets to his feet and begins to get dressed again. Dick already hardening by the time he’s pulling his pants up and buttoning them. Hissing a little as he does, he wasn’t kidding about being able to go again.

Since he’s up and you’re a little wobbly on your feet, you ask, “Can you toss me my clothes?”

“It’d be a shame though.” He tilts his head at you.

“Shut up,” you point at him, “or do you want me to walk you to your car completely naked?”

“You gonna see me off, sweetie?” he tosses you your clothes to change into, “how hospitable you’re being this evening, pussy and a sendoff.”

“You’re the worst,” you grumble. And even though you know you’re going to regret it, “Could you grab me some clean underwear? They’re in that top drawer,” indicating to the dresser in the corner with a nod.

He does so without further comment, at least no further comment until he’s rooting through it. Pulling out a blue lacy pair and holding them up, “These are cute.”

“I am not wearing such a nice pair,” you inform. “I’m still full of your cum, I don’t want to ruin such an expensive pair.”

“I can only get so hard, sweetie,” he singsongs but finds a comfortable and boring pair for you to change into.

When you’re both dressed, you walk him out to the front of the house on shaky legs. Regretting it a little bit because you won’t have him for support on your way back. At his car, he collects you into a big hug and then a final kiss.

Pulling back and reminding you, “You’re gonna message me and we’re going on a date.”

Feeling flustered all of a sudden, “I remember.”

“Just checking, you were kind of occupied when I brought it up.”

You push him away at that, “Whatever, just go home and be on time for work tomorrow.”

“That reminds me,” he looks at you pointedly, “Don’t kiss Suguru anymore.”

His comment jolts you a little, gaping back, “I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good,” he nods, “I don’t like sharing.”

With that, he goes on his way. You’re left hobbling your way back into your parents’ house with a mess to clean up. Your relationship with him is still a little confusing to you but you suppose you’re dating now? You can’t help but have some trepidations about that but there’s also a thrill of excitement. Already finding yourself wondering when he’s going to message you…

α.η. yaaay it's done ! thank you to everyone who stuck around and waited patiently for this second part ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

i'm sorry if you wanted to be tagged for this, i unfortunately don't do that :< i hope all who wanted it find this though ♡ thank you all for reading and i hope you all enjoyed ! hopefully more to come if this performs well hehe (๑•̀؂ <๑)✧

Your dad steps inside, tossing the leash he was clutching in his hand on the floor towards you before taking a step out the door. “That one was a tough case. You’ll need to break him down well, and keep him disciplined” he huffs out, breathless as he heads back out to his car, exhausted after dragging the mistaken ‘big cat’ home.

You’re left alone with the wild looking ‘cat’, blinking up at him quite lost, unsure what to do now. You don’t want the responsibility of a demihuman, but you don’t want him to attack you either.

If you were in his place, you too would be eager at hurting those who hurt you back and escaping them. You don’t blame him for wanting freedom. You’re not exactly ecstatic to the idea of being torn to shreds either, however.  

That man is big. Big, burly and tall. Theres no way people actually thought him to be a house cat. He’s even larger than a maine coon!

You step closer despite the glares and hissing he’s letting out, your body moving on its own as you seek him out.

“What do you think you’re doing, human?” He snarls, baring his teeth. Despite his big, threatening words, the shelter life seems to have broken down his confidence and resolves, pushing him to step away from you like a cornered animal.

Or perhaps it’s his previous owners’ doing.

“Hey i-“ You blink, shocked at the sight of a big guy like him seeing you as a possible threat. You halt, taking a step backwards. Maybe you’re moving too fast for him. “I don’t mean you any harm”

Your clarification falls onto him like mockery instead of reassurance. His leash is still thrown limp on the floor between you two. Technically, he could make a run for it and bolt out the frontdoor, his legs impressivly strong and quick.

What renders him immobile is the promise of punishment were he to be caught again. Or God forbid: found by someone with less morality and mercy.

He stays there, his tall body standing by the door, not moving. The only exception being his tail frantically flicking against the wall and door where he stands in the corner.

“What’s your name? What should I call you?” You try softly, seeing the way he’s retreating away from you, reading his body language.

He hesitates to answer, hissing at you once again. The action rattles the metal heart-shaped nametag hanging from his collar with a name engraved in it. Satoru.

“That’s a pretty name” you didn’t think much before uttering out those words, them blending in with the air in the room – too light. “Satoru” you add, clearer this time.

One of his white, fluffy ears twitches at the name, tail stiffening in place. You catch the way it twitches once from the corner of your eyes. It pains you to see someone behave in this way, like there’s an invisible knife to his throat.

“Is it.. bad if I call you by that?” You start to question, confused on how to read the why behind his reaction.

No one has called him by his name before. All his previous owners used derogatory names to call him, referring to him with insults and mockery only.

He shakes himself out of his small trace, tail still frantically flicking the air around it, ears pulling back as he decides to step closer.

“Do whatever you please, mistress” he rasps out, eyes casted down on you, raking over you slowly, sizing you up before his bright blues settle on yours, sharp and studying. “I’m your pet by now anyway, you can call me by whatever pleases you”

He pushes past you, figuring if he’ll stay with you here from now on, then he better try and get comfortable. As much as there’s room for, at peast - which isn’t much from his previous experiences.

Flopping down onto your couch, he summons all the rage at humans in him into some sort of confidence; a protectant armour coating in the air around him, making him untouchable.

“Just so you know, I’m not an indoor cat. Not even a cat to begin with” He practically growls out, disgusted at being mistaken for one.

Stupid humans can’t even differentiate between two completely different species. Tsk.

You follow after him, slow and cautious, studying his change in behaviour.

His tail flicks against the couch, two sets of electric blue shooting lasers at you as you reply “You’re a snow leopard, aren’t you?” That prompts a small scoff from him.

“Oh, so you do have some working braincells after all. I was starting to believe otherwise since you foolishly let my leash stay untouched and stepped closer to me” his slow blinks don’t fool you – he’s clearly not in control over this situation, no matter how hard he tries to feign composure.

You can count all the individual moments his ears flickered and moved since the moment he got dragged in by your father; how his tail won’t stay still or even sway in a normal way.

He can fool himself as much as he pleases, but he can’t fool you when his ears and tail are screaming ‘IM SCARED BUT REFUSE TO OPENLY SHOW IT.  PLEASE DON’T HURT ME’.

It tugs at your heart, aching knowing you’re the reason he feels this way. He regards you with suspicion, eyes dimming to slits at the way you’re looking at him all soft and sad.

“I’m not a pet either. Nor something for you to ‘save’ or ‘fix’” he spits out, eyes flickering over your face in frusturation. Lounging on your couch would’ve been a smart idea to look assertive and calm, if only not for the audible thumping of his tail repeatedly hitting the couch.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack

That doesn’t scream calm nor assertive. At all.

He wishes he was standing right now. What if you were to make a sudden move?

It seems like you read his mind, slowing your steps as you approach him, letting him anticipate your every movement.

“No, you’re not” you breath out, watching the way his fluffy ears perk up in surprise. His tail stills in the air for a moment.

You continue your advancing, stepping closer, till you stand in front of him. His ears look so soft it’s driving you mad with the stupid craving to touch them, to at least pet his white hair.

“What are you doing exactly?” He questions, nearly whispering as you stand there in front of him. He may be big and tall, stronger than you, physically capable of overpowering you – but right in this moment, he feels stuck with you standing over his burly figure.

You immediately catch on that, retreating back as fast as possible, forgetting all about how cautious and slow you planned to be with your footing.

Satoru’s ears straighten up, pin straight as his tail stands up in return. One thing snow leopards are known for is their inhuman speed and reaction time.

Less than a second goes by before Satoru is pouncing on you, pushing you to the carpet and pinning you under him, his nametag tinkling at the motion. A small gasp escapes you, eyes wide as his meet yours under him, his larger hands pressed on each side of your head.

He’s panting. His chest heaving and falling as rapidly as yours, his shoulders shaking lightly.

That can’t be good.

“W-why did you have to move so fast…” Satoru tried to sound angry, assertive maybe. His words come out breathless, choked up at the end, nevertheless.

Your eyes flicker between his, back and forth – from one electric blue to the other, as if searching for an easy way out of this.

You lift a hand painfully slow, slowly reaching behind him. He stiffens at that, yet doesn’t do anything against it yet. Perhaps his adrenaline is pumping too much in his bloodstream it’s locking him in place, transforming him into a trembling mess.

You run your fingers gently down his spine, touch featherlight and calculated. It’s what you’ve seen your friend do to calm her cat once. You thought you better give it a try, despite what Satoru actually is.

The action sends ripples of sensation into his skin on his back, a delighted trill heard from him to both of your surprise. You both freeze, your hand stopping at his midback, blinking up at him.

He lets out low purr against his own wishes, a soft hue of pink dusting his face at the realisation of what you’re doing to him. “G-god…”

Satoru has never felt a touch that wasn’t meant for ‘disciplinary reasons’. Your touch is foreign, new and scary in its gentleness. It’s even scarier how it’s chipping at that untouchable air around him.

you’re one scary girl.

You take it as a sign to continue what you’re doing, your fingers grazing over his back as you suddenly feel a fluffy softness snaking its way up your thigh.

It prompts a small nervous chuckle from you, eyes flickering down to where his tail seems to have wrapped around your leg, hugging your thigh snugly.

You look up to see the blush in his cheeks intensifying, his purring ongoing.

“Please… don’t stop” Satoru pleads, eyes fluttering shut, his ears resting on his head in a more relaxed state by now.

That big, intimidating, burly snow leopard can be more of a house cat than he thinks himself.

Daizzzy ᝰ.ᐟ

want more? check out my masterlist! ( ˶>ᴗ<˶)

Although he truly didn't need to, for other ninjas were simply at his snap.

But Kakashi Hatake, although an old man – although he hated how you used his maturity to remind him that some things needed to be taken care of with utmost responsibility – enjoyed anything but fulfilling his Hokage's duties.

And so the reports piled up, while he slipped out of his office early in the morning, only to return late at night, after the crickets had chirped their last melody.

This night was no different, as he suddenly rolled into his office, half-undressed in his daily ninja armour, wearing nothing but a tight, sleeveless shirt, its long collar covering his lips.

He didn't simply walk, but rather stumbled – with deep breaths escaping his tightened throat and hands shivering, as if a sickness had struck his mind.

"Kakashi?" Your head tilted as you still stood by the window.

A gentle wind swirled your hair, carrying the sweet scent of your skin towards his burning face. His eyes, one crimson, kissed, the other obsidian, looked up with an almost miserable frown, before a groan slipped past his lips.

It seemed he wasn't happy to see you in his office at such an hour, but what could you do? Being the Hokage's assistant felt almost as if you were the village's chief yourself!

Only a moment had passed before your eyes slipped lower. Towards his legs, thighs, with one of them leaking barely visible, vermilion liquid. A metallic smell of his blood was suddenly more palpable than ever, and so a low gasp fell from your lips.

You quickly drew closer, catching his massive body before it could hit the floor with a weak groan.

"Kakashi, what the hell happened?"

But it seemed that your touch burned more than the wound itself, as he gently pushed you away with a, "P-please, don't come any closer."

Droplets of sweat beaded on his forehead, dripping leisurely as he hung his head. Arms barely holding on, trembling as he walked towards a soft chair in the corner of his office and sat with a low groan.

Or rather a moan, as your eyes involuntarily fell towards his bulging trousers, noticing a painfully hard swell.

"Kakashi, what happened?" You pose, putting a hand on your hip. "Where have you been?"

He grabbed the armrest and leaned back, letting the black collar finally expose his panting, fallen lips.

"Nothing, d-don't worry," he murmured, yet his voice was low and honey-dripping, as if on the verge of losing his mind. "Please, go back home."

But you didn't move. Didn't even breathe, watching the massive man writhing in the cushioned armchair, sweat rolling down his temple, eyes lidded by the fire bubbling in his loins.

Nothing.

He was a man who always kept the problems to himself.

Not solely the problems, but desires too. Erotica-kind-of-guy, who read some filthy romances during his office hours yet kept blushing whenever you swirled a lock of hair around your finger.

Built from muscle upon muscle, with a handsome jaw and sharp eyes, a nasty, salacious scar slashing across his crimson one.

Always an utmost kind gentleman, who somehow kept himself away from women. Everyone thought so because Hokage had never been seen with a female ninja, nor even with a simple villager. He hid behind the office walls instead or went on lone missions.

Yet you knew Kakashi Hatake wasn't the apathetic, almost impotent man some people took him for. Because you felt his deep eyes following your figure as you came and went from his office. Staying a bit longer on your naked thighs whenever you wore a skirt, and on the way, throwing knives hugged them tightly, until the muscles bulged under the leather straps.

You knew he liked the sweet scent of your perfumes, deep and almost nauseating in their warmth, yet always wrapping around him like the petals' gentlest kisses. He followed the movement of your soft lips, eyes mingling beneath the sunlight spilling into his office, hair always looking so soft and shiny, like the satin scarf he wished to wrap around his neck.

And so after working with you for a while, Kakashi decided that the safest option to not get himself embarrassed with the way his cock always leaked whenever you entered his office in the morning – would be to quickly disappear. To go out in the morning and slip back late at night, while Hokage's office was left with nothing but the faint traces of your sweetness.

He thought he was clever, sly. That you didn't know how mellow you made him feel.

That's why he thought that you would simply nod and leave him be. With cock painfully straining his briefs and mind slowly slipping into pleasurable dizziness.

Instead, to his utter dissatisfaction, you observed him carefully, squinting, your gaze moving between his shallow wound and the flushed, blooming face that dripped with arousal.

"What did they spike you with?" You sighed, crossing arms over your chest. "Hm? What is it? A poison?"

His head shook, a few wisps of snowy hair sticking to his wet forehead. Almond-shaped eyes, much more lidded than usual, as his gaze wandered over your body.

Skirt hugging your hips sweetly and a tight sleeveless shirt, quite similar to his, clinging like a second skin. He didn't need much to imagine you were already naked. With body-hugging clothes in dresses so tight, he could clearly see every deeper rise of your soft belly.

You came closer, slowly, snapping in front of his eyes. "Hello? I can't help you if you won't tell me what's going on."

Your smell was painfully pleasant, so he quickly, with a single move, pulled the collar back over his nose.

"Please j-just go, I–mhmm," another groan escaped his throat as you came even closer.

This time, you stood right between his spread thighs as he tried every way possible to apply a bit of pressure around his hips. You leaned closer, putting your arms on the chair's handles and lowering yourself to meet his eye level.

"What happened? Tell me, because there's no way I'm leaving our Hokage in such a state."

Such miserable, innocent, pure, giving you every chance to push his sweet buttons and tease his wrecked mind.

Kakashi furrowed as the warmth radiating from your body slowly slipped beneath his tight collar. His throat bobbed as his finger slowly pulled the material down, allowing a quiet "Aphrodisiac" to fill the serene office.

With a few candles still dimly flickering on his desk, and the moon's shy kisses bathing your blooming face in a virgin glow.

Something wicked danced behind your eyes. A mischievousness of sorts, as you hummed and slowly, leisurely, sank to your knees.

"What are you doing?" Kakashi gasped, following the lovely pout that twisted your lips. "Wait–" His fingers tried to grab your hands as they slipped towards his hips, yet you gently smacked them.

"What do you mean? I'm only helping our dear Hokage, of course," your devilish voice mingled with the faint melody of the crickets. "As I do believe, our Hokage is wise enough to know how to get rid of…" With a single move, you pulled his trousers down to the middle of his beefy thighs. "This problem. Right?"

The moment his briefs slipped off his hips, the fat, leaking head smacked into your cheek with a wet smudge. Pearly droplets spattered his abdomen, and only then did you notice that–

"Did you just cum?"

His throat bobbed and brows furrowed as a sudden wave of arousal smooched your spine.

"T-twice."

You giggled, biting down on lower lip. Fingers clenched on his meaty thighs, digging into the milky skin. "Why?"

Your warm breath hit his cock, veins bulging and curling around the fat shaft. You leaned closer, plush lips kissing its softly and spilling another needy groan from his lips.

"Tell me," you demanded, spreading his thighs wider. "Why did you cum twice, Kakashi?"

A moany fuck hit your warm cheeks when you licked off the pearly cum still dripping from his swollen head.

"You know why." His long fingers gripped the armrests, head falling back to reveal pale neck. "Baby, fuck, c-can you suck on it?"

A demon must have taken over his mind. A wicked spirit of some sort, as Kakashi, in his mature, gentlemanly age, would never, ever say such filth to his young assistant.

Not that young, too, yet almost ten years youthful, with the loveliest cheeks already smiling foxily and a wet tongue licking his trembling shaft from balls up to the feverish head. The spit mixing with the last droplets of semen, trickling down his cock like a crystal thread.

"No, I don't think so," you chuckled, nuzzling your lips against his head without taking it into your warm mouth. "Tell me why. Did my sole presence turn our Hokage on that much?"

He nodded without giving it much thought, although it was the truth. Your presence did, in fact, make him pathetically cum right into his slacks.

"Mmm," a sweet hum bounced off his cock, as you placed in its top a gentle kiss. Before taking a deep, nasty sniff, and letting his mind spin into madness. "Did your younger assistant turn you on that much?"

"Stop," he groaned, feeling the last threads of his patience slowly tearing. "J-just, fuck, let's pretend it's a one-time t-thing."

You knew it was a lie.

And he also knew – from the moment you slipped him past your lips, and he immediately cummed right onto your tongue. The sole warmth of your mouth and those wicked, foxy eyes looking up at him with a squint were enough to send another ripping pleasure down his spine.

Big hands instantly falling onto your head, forearms bulging from restraint he desperately tried to cling to, yet still pushing you down his cock. Till the full, fat length slipped into your mouth, pulsing head hitting the back of your throat.

A crying choke tried to escape your throat, but instead your fingers dug into his beefy thighs, leaving nasty, crimson scratches.

He didn't give you a second to get used to his full length, instead moving your head up and down his cock. With swollen lips and tears dancing in the corners of your eyes, you gagged on his musty, delicious fatness while he fucked your throat without a drop of usual gentleness.

Legs spreading wider, crimson eyes mingling in pleasure at your full cheeks and trembling hands, as you took him fully without a fight. Instead, clenching your own thighs and rubbing them together, just to feel your drenched panties brush the swollen clit.

"Such a good fucking throat," Kakashi muttered, another wave of pleasure bubbling in his loins. "I swear, fuck, I swear it's only a one-off. Only once, baby. For all those days you've been teasing me like a little slut."

You wished to laugh, to chuckle, to tease him back. Yet your eyes rolled back, and heavy breaths escaped through your nose as he dragged his length relentlessly through your throat. You felt its mass on your tongue – each vein pulsing beneath your breath, the sizzling head smooching the back of your throat.

His thumbs brushed away tears dripping down your cheeks. "Shh, baby, don't cry. You're doing such a good job, f-fuck–"

He groaned as your pace quickened. A bit sloppier, with the filthy squelching and your gagging filling the quiet space of his office. Candles cast a gentle glow on your teary cheeks; the moon kissed his milky hair, sticking to sweating forehead.

He was ready to cum any second, spill his semen right onto your throat and watch your cheeks burst from it in a lovely pout.

But instead, you suddenly pulled away.

"Wha-" He didn't finish, when you pressed lips to his, in a messy, vile kiss.

First load of his cum still sweetly coating your tongue, as you pushed to his mouth. Letting a few creamy droplets layer his palate as he moaned right into your grinning lips.

"How could you cum in my throat, dear Hokage? You chuckled, lifting your soaked panties to the side, and giving him a clear view of your juices dripping down his swollen cock. "Such a waste of resources, don't you think?"

Kakashi could only nod – madly, unconsciously, savouring the warmth radiating from your wet pussy.

"Why won't you fill my womb instead?" Another wicked giggle, smooched his blooming cheeks, as you pressed your entrance to his leaking head. Hands on his muscular arms, to let yourself slowly, painfully lower onto his fat cock. "Allow me to give you an heir. Spill into your assistant's fertile womb and make me a mommy."

Kakashi felt unbearable, a pinching desire smouldering across every part of his body. In his eyes, your figure, hanging over his massive, trembling body, seemed like a tempting demon of sorts. A succubus, and if he squinted enough, with the aphrodisiac still filling his body with a lustful mist, a shadow dancing behind your head looked almost like two lovely horns.

His head slipped inside, the rest of the cock following in, sending a wave of maddening pleasure over his spine. Strong hands gripped your hips, trying to lift you up a little, as if his mind still tried to resonate with the urge to nuzzle himself deep within your warmth.

"Baby, f-fuck, we can't–"

Usually, you wouldn't have a chance against his brutal strength, yet this time you easily pushed through his grip. Lowering yourself with a sweet moan, head falling back.

"Mhmm, Kakashi, you fill me so good," you sighed, feeling his fat cock tremble deep within the clutches of your cunt. "I can't believe you didn't fuck me sooner."

He couldn't listen to you. He couldn't stand the way your pussy clenched around his spilling cock, sugary scent wrapped around his mind, sweetening the salty cum that still coated his tongue.

He filled you so well, with a slightly curved head brushing your sweet spot just right, as you started rolling your hips up and down.

With hands gripping his arms and face leaning towards his fallen mouth, to lick a little beauty spot right beneath his lower lip. Kiss it wetly, to draw another deep groan past his throat.

"Don't fight it, Kakashi," you pledged, biting down on his lower lip. "Just let me take care of you," your hands grabbed his, sliding them up and down your velvety skin.

Your pussy sent a few pulses down his shaft as you clenched on him with a muffled moan. Lips connecting with his again, wetly, messily, pressing your chest to his.

He finally gave in.

Strong arms curling around your waist, pulling you closer to his heated body. Hips bucking up to meet every mean roll of your hips, the tip of his cock finally hitting your womb in dripping squelching.

Your juices dripping down his slacks, eyes rolling back as he pounded you at a merciless pace. Almost painful whenever his cock slid through the tight walls of your pussy, tearing another moan from your throat.

His crimson eye followed the lustful expressions pouting on your face, each more maddening than the last, forcing a scowl between his milky eyebrows.

"K-Kakashi–mmmm–you're filling me so good," you snapped, wrapping your hands around his neck. Your hips bounced with a nasty squelch, as the pleasure already bubbled in your lower belly.

"Maybe I should get hurt more often," he groaned, one arm slipping down between your bodies, to roll your clit through the flimsy material of your panties. "If that's how–ngh–you're planning to treat me."

His rough fingers pressed the swollen button, feeling the foul juices drip from the soaked fabric.

You nodded, letting a sweet moan hit his rosy cheeks. "Y-yeah, ahhh, I'll let you fill my pussy every single day."

It felt impossible to fight the desire that bubbled in Hokage's loins for all those months. So Kakashi could do nothing but press his hips to yours, until his balls smooched the swell of your ass and head nuzzled against the puffy womb.

With the last shudder and your moan splashing past your lips – he came. Flooded your pussy with sticky stripes of burning cum, cramming it right inside your weeping womb. His whimpers mixed with your cries, as he pulled you closer and connected your lips in a last kiss. Full of passion, desire, lined with months looking over your shoulders with the burning need to fuck out all the craving that bubbled within you for this whole time.

Your heavy pantings filled the warm office.

"So–" But you didn't finish when he suddenly stood up.

With you pussy still clenching around his hard, aphrodisiac-spiked cock and cum dripping down the wooden floors.

All the documents piling up on his desk fell to the floor in a crying mess, and a gasp caught in your throat when he laid you down on its big surface.

"I spent all day–" He shushed you with a kiss, licking your lips and brushing warm cheek with his thumb.

"Sorry, baby. Let me use your pretty pussy for a bit longer, hm?" He muttered, pressing your thighs against your chest. "Just a bit, fuck, let me breed you again, yeah? It's your Hokage's order."

And how could you call yourself a good assistant if you didn't fulfil it with utmost pleasure!

©liahcharms all rights reserved. Do not copy, plagiarise, feed AI, translate or modify my works.

Wanted to clean the palate and remembered that jjk is actually not the only fandom I can write for lmao

Sukuna found himself in another’s body in his mid-twenties, awakening one morning in complete darkness, even though he’d been certain his eyes were open. It was a strange feeling at first, a resignation to a suspicion he’d held all his life that there was no destined person for him, giving in to the belief that he’d spend a day floating in nothingness with no other half for his soul to cling to.

His assumption was broken swiftly, at the realisation that he still held some manner of awareness even if his sight was impaired. There was a breeze blowing against his body, chatter sounding off in the distance, and soft sheets were pressing up against skin which surely wasn’t his.

This person, whoever they were, had a body that was exhausted. He ached in places he’d never ached before, his shoulders and upper back straining, like their owner had been carrying a weight beyond their capability. He felt desperately weak in that form, suddenly aware that he only had a human number of limbs to control, and lacked the strength and size he was used to commanding.

In the darkness clouding his vision, he was surprised to find that the blackness wasn’t as deep as he’d originally thought, able to make out fuzzy shapes in the dark which he could only assume made up his surroundings. His hand reached for his eyes, setting his lips into a grim line at the confirmation they were open.

His destined lover was blind.

Disappointment settled into his chest. He had never taken much stock in soulmates in the first place, didn’t really believe in love, but this just furthered his confirmation that the whole matter was a farce. He found respect for the strong - strength was the only thing that truly mattered to him, and yet here he was, in the body of a blind woman.

A feeble little thing hardly able to fend for herself.

What good was she to a man like Sukuna?

A knock on the door startled him. “Are you awake? The madam wants me to help you get ready.”

Sukuna said nothing, trying to figure out why it felt like your body wanted to draw in on itself, your pulse quicking in a seemingly innate reaction to the voice at the door.

“Please, I know you’ve been ill but he’s been calling every day for the past week, the madam doesn’t want to keep him waiting any longer. He’s been bringing forth all manner of threat, and if you’re not careful he’ll buy you out. I know that isn’t what you want. Just let me tend to you and allow him a visit. Keep his temper at bay.”

Sukuna frowned, attempting to piece together what was happening. It was hard without the visual clues of his surroundings, but based on the snippet of conversation he concluded that you were likely a courtesan of some form. Once again, his view of you, and the soulmate system in general, dropped through the floor.

Blind and a whore.

Perfect.

“One moment.” He called out, taken aback by the lovely feminine voice that fell from his lips. It was a soft, delicate sound, one which wouldn’t sound out of place accompanied with a harp. He found himself shocked at how much he enjoyed it, considering saying something else just to hear it again.

Finding the door proved to be a more difficult task than he’d been expecting. He’d already stumbled standing up from your bed, thrown off by his lack of vision and by feet that were ridiculously small compared to what he was used to. His centre of gravity felt all wrong, and his body felt generally unbalanced without his lower set of arms.

Moving at a snail's pace, he made it across the room, impressed that he didn’t run into anything on his journey over. He was grateful for the shadowy outlines present in your visionless gaze, certain that the situation would be made harder without even that as a guide.

Fumbling for the handle, he slid open the door. “Morning. Oh honey, you look like a ghost.” A hand pressed against his skin, and he was ushered over to another part of the room, grateful for the guidance. There was the sound of a chair being moved. “Take a seat.”

Sukuna hesitated, not quite sure where the chair was. He reached out nonchalantly with his hand, trying to feel for it while the other woman’s focus was elsewhere, seemingly rifling through a bag of something. Able to just about make out a black splodge in the centre of his vision, Sukuna took a seat, only to thud down onto the floor.

It hurt. It hurt significantly more than pain Sukuna was used to enduring. He’d experienced all manner of injury - he’d had his blood and guts pouring out onto the floor in the midst of a fight, but somehow this was worse. How fragile was this body of yours? He was glad that he wasn’t born as some weak human, grateful that the abominable aspects of his body increased his strength rather than weakened it.

How could you live like this?

“My lady?” The woman seemed immediately panicked, reaching down and easily hoisting you up by the arm, aiding Sukuna onto the chair. “I’m sorry, you usually tell me you don’t need assistance, I wasn’t expecting-” she cut herself off for a moment, leaving Sukuna in silence and struggling to read the room with no visual cues. “You don’t seem like yourself at all this morning. You’re being very quiet.”

Sukuna said nothing, certain that he could hear the hint of a smile in the woman’s tone.

It was said that when soulmates swapped bodies, you could not under any circumstance tell someone that you were a different inhabitant to usual, else the spell would be broken and you’d both be immediately sent home.

It was an option Sukuna had contemplated the moment the woman walked in, eager to return to his own healthy form. However, he was also a man of great curiosity and it wasn’t like he had much going on at his estate that day anyway. So he opted for silence, figuring he’d at least see, or hear, how the day played out.

There was no harm in that.

Regardless, the woman had seemingly sensed it immediately based on her sudden change of demeanor, but being likely as aware of the rules as Sukuna was, she kept her suspicions silent.

“It's Officer Sugawara who’s set to see you today,” she explained, soft hands running through your hair with a comb, giving Sukuna a shiver of pleasure. “You usually play shogi with the guy for a while and let him get drunk. He’s a proud man who’s desperate for a legitimate win, so you always give him your best and he refuses to give up until he’s too pissed to think anymore. So be on your best game, or he might want to pass his time in another way.”

The warning was clear and Sukuna found himself disgusted. If that man tried to lay a single hand on you while he was inhabiting your body, he’d make sure Sugawara wouldn’t walk out of the establishment alive.

Fortunately, Sukuna was an avid shogi player. He held a great love for the game and was self-assured where his skill was concerned. No one in his estate could beat him, so he was certain he could beat some Officer of the Shogun.

Although, he’d never played it blind - a fact that mildly concerned him.

He hoped the pieces were skillfully made with deep indents, else he’d be completely lost.

“Even though you’re usually talkative with me, you’re not all that chatty with regulars, so it’ll be fine if you stay quiet. On account of you not feeling yourself and all,” she said with a knowing giggle.

It took an ungodly amount of time for that woman to get you ready, and Sukuna wondered how you could bear experiencing such a thing day after day. It seemed such a waste to have so much effort devoted to doing your hair and make-up, and dressing you up, when you couldn’t even see the end result.

For all you knew you could look like a clown.

But Sukuna quickly became certain that wasn’t the case when he was led into another room, your helper grasping his arm in a steadying manner and making sure he was settled down on a pillow before introducing him to a man sitting opposite him. Sugawara wasted no time with greetings, letting out a gasp of awe at your radiant appearance and reaching out to kiss your hand.

Sukuna wanted to reel away at the feeling but remained still all the same. He hoped he didn’t have too much of a scowl on his face.

Even if he didn’t have any interest in you, he didn’t really want to ruin the life of some random blind girl. He loved cruelty, but even for him that felt like an unnecessary slight to a person who was supposed to hold the other half of his heart.

“You look gorgeous. Not sickly at all, might I add. I hope the madam hasn’t been telling lies.”

You were sick - outside of the blindness - Sukuna could feel it. At first he’d brushed off your frailty as something normal for puny little humans, but since rising from your bed he’d become aware that your quivering legs, aching bones and hummingbird heart were far from normal.

“I haven’t been well,” he said simply.

“Oh you poor thing, it's always the most beautiful ones who suffer the most.”

Sukuna found himself wondering what you looked like. He had a vague knowledge of Official Sugawara - he wasn’t an ugly man, certainly not one lacking in prospects by any means. He was powerful in his position in the government, and wasn’t the type who would visit some woman out of pity.

You must’ve been genuinely gorgeous to earn such affection from him.

It was a shame Sukuna would never know.

He wouldn’t look for you once he was back in his own body. He’d move on with his life and that would be that, leaving this day as nothing more than some distant dream.

The games of shogi went by quickly, and Sukuna found that it was easy to slip into your body without arousing suspicion. Once he’d gotten over the original barrier of having to feel each piece for their indents as he picked them up, he fell easily into the flow of it all.

This man across from him seeked little conversation once the games had started, and Sukuna was pleased at how well he was playing that afternoon. He didn’t let the man win once and, as your attendant had mentioned, Suguwara filled himself up with more and more drink. It felt nice to play someone outside of his estate, most of his servants were too afraid to face Sukuna in any sort of test.

It was equally nice to completely destroy a government official with his skill. He was certain this man was having the worst game of his entire life, unaccustomed to this treatment from the lovely courtesan he’d frequent.

But it was at the end of the seventh game, when Sukuna was feeling at his highest, that a disastrous hit would come to his ego.

“You’re really off your game today. I see you really aren’t feeling well,” Sugawara said. There was the sound of shuffling fabric, as if the man had leant forward.

“What?” Sukuna asked, the low disbelief coming out strange in your small voice.

“Your plays are much sloppier than usual. It feels like you’re going easy on me, given you usually destroy me before I can even think about what to do next. Today you’ve been giving me proper games. I don’t like it. You know I hate being pitied.”

Sukuna had to stop his mouth from falling agape.

He wasn’t playing bad games by any means, on the contrary, he was certain that he was playing better than he had in a while, happy to have a new opponent for once. Was this man really saying that you, the normal you, was more skilled at shogi than he was? He really found that hard to believe.

What would some blind courtesan know of tactics?

“Perhaps you’ve simply improved,” Sukuna mumbled bitterly, unwilling to accept that your mastery was greater than his.

Sugawara laughed. “How polite of you, my dear. I can assure you that isn’t the case, and we both know it.” There was some shuffling, and Sukuna sensed that the man was climbing to his feet. It was frustrating to have such limited vision, and he was glad to know that he’d wake up the following day able to see the world once more - he couldn’t imagine living like that all the time. “I’ll leave you to rest. When I return in a few days you best have returned to form, or perhaps the nature of our meetings will need to change.”

A heavy hand rested on your shoulder, wet and clammy against the silk you were draped in. Sukuna wasn’t sure if the disgust was born from his own thoughts on the matter, or from an impulsive response from your body. From your attendant’s words it was clear that you would never sleep with the man, likely keeping your shogi skills sharp to ensure he never won.

Once he was gone, Sukuna sat there in silence, thinking on the man’s parting words.

Were you really so talented?

Part of him wanted to convince himself that he’d been playing worse than usual on account of not being able to see the board, making it difficult for him to think out moves in advance, taking more time than normal while he grazed the pieces with his fingers.

But deep in his soul he knew that wasn’t the case.

He’d played expertly, and still that man knew his opponent wasn’t the real you. All on account of how amateur Sukuna’s ability had seemed compared to yours.

And as his day drew to a close in your body, he realised that he had to know. He had to play you, had to see firsthand just how dramatically your skill exceeded his. He wouldn’t believe it until he’d seen it.

The soulmate thing didn’t matter.

But he needed to meet with you all the same.

Just to sate his interest. That was all.

—

Months had passed since the day you’d swapped with your soulmate. Since the morning you’d awoken to a world of light of colour you’d never seen before, and would never see again.

It was a day you’d never be able to forget - the image of the grand estate you’d awoken in seared permanently into your mind, just like the face of your soulmate who had stared back at you in a bronze mirror. You’d gazed upon his body for longer than you should admit to, wondering for a brief moment if you’d misunderstood how humans looked.

That thought didn’t remain for long. It took no expert to understand that the man you’d been paired with was something unique - the very four armed monster who had half of Japan living in fear.

And as such, you wished you could forget your experience in his body, wished you could see anything but his oddly charming face, because your promised beloved was a monster of the highest calibre. But with only one singular day of vision under your belt, what you’d seen wasn’t so easily displaced, and you found yourself thinking of him often with a longing that you knew to be wrong.

You had told no one of the experience, not even your handmaid, who had outright asked what your body swap experience had been like, what your soulmate had been like, claiming that whoever they were had presented themselves as rather reserved when possessing your body. You’d brushed her off with a shrug, claiming him to be some soldier and nothing more.

No one could know the truth. If they knew you to have any link to such a terrible man they might view you as an associate, and someone deserving of death for something you hadn’t asked for.

The workings of fate seemed strange to you. Was it not enough punishment to be born blind? Why would you also be paired with a monster who seemed to view the human race with general disdain? You were certain he cared little for love, his servant had made that clear when you were in his body, so any hopes of having a soulmate had been stolen from you as a result of this pairing.

Part of you wondered if a man so vile as him might even take things a step further and track you down to put an end to your life, insulted by fate to suggest that it could control him in any capacity. Perhaps he would be further insulted to be paired with someone so damaged rather than some untarnished beauty.

You’d always heard he held great hatred for weakness.

Even so, despite your fear and desire to conceal yourself from him, you couldn’t forget him, couldn’t stop the flicker of longing in your chest you were certain all people held for their destined lovers. Because while he was unquestionably a monster, with a throne of skulls you had witnessed through his very eyes, he also seemed to be more than that.

He was a man of great loneliness, living in grand halls with only a handful of servants for company - and all but one of them would scuttle out of the way when he approached. He seemed to hold a great love for art, with his estate packed with paintings and tapestries and great vases, all kept in pristine condition. For a cannibal, he seemed to take great pride in the cleanliness of his surroundings, in the neat nature of his gardens and springs.

Even in his own appearance, he seemed to take great care, for there was no denying him to be a handsome man even with his unique features. He had a voice to match that beauty, one that you could hardly peel from your mind any more than you could forget his image.

His body was hard to maneuver, too big and confusing to control his many hanging limbs. In a way, it felt akin to your blindness, something different to the way humans were built to be, leaving him to struggle with an issue that no one else could relate to. You wondered how it had been for him in childhood - if he’d felt as isolated and scared as you had to know that everyone else was normal in a way you’d never been.

You pitied him, even through all his sins. You felt you could understand at least a piece of him from a day buried within the confines of his skin.

But still, you would never reach for him - wouldn’t poke the bear even if you could understand why it might bite. You were certain that someone like him would be unwilling to hear you out, unwilling to love or reflect on how he became the way he was - he would swipe your head from your shoulders just like everyone else, and that would be that.

So you would stay away, keep your dreams of him locked deep within your chest, and accept that distance was for the best.

There was more to life than soulmates.

Unfortunately, that choice wasn’t yours alone to make.

The madame had knocked on your door early that morning, with the golden light of the sun only just starting to peek in through your window. Lately you’d been having longer lie-ins and taking less clients as the cold of winter gripped the region. Along with the blindness, you’d been born with a particularly feeble body as a result of complications with your mother during her pregnancy, ailments which were always worse for you in the colder months.

Your bones strained as you pushed yourself up to a sitting position, calling for the woman to enter. As much as you longed to slip back into your dream of red eyes peering back at you with fiery desire, you were still beholden to the will of your employer, even in your months of weakness.

“How are you feeling, my dear?” She asked, as she slipped in through the door. You felt her weight dip the bed as she took a seat beside you, a gentle hand coming to rest on your shoulder.

“Mornings are always the worst but I can manage once I’m up and about. Has Sugawara come calling again?” Most regulars were understanding enough of your condition, and those that weren’t would generally be chased off by the madame or unloaded onto another of the courtesans. Sugawara was one of the few that generally wouldn’t accept such treatment, with only eyes for you.

It didn’t matter too much since the man only ever wanted to play shogi, and that was manageable enough even on your worst days. It seemed that he had no intention of laying with you until he’d beat you in a game fair and square, claiming that if that ever happened he’d buy you out and take you home for he would’ve earned your heart.

That talk always made you uncomfortable, for you had little interest in the man, but you were more than certain he had no chance at ever defeating you at shogi, and could therefore never lay claim to you - assuming he kept his word.

“Not Sugawara…” There was hesitation in her voice. “We’ve received a request for our finest shogi player to be sent to the mayor’s home this evening. Apparently the other courtesan houses have received the same request.”

“I didn’t think the mayor cared much for shogi.”

Again, there was a moment of silence. “No, he doesn’t. A rather unwanted guest has taken up residence in his home, and this is the demand that has come of it.” Immediately your blood ran cold, thoughts drifting away from the madame’s continuing chatter to the red eyes that sat so prominently in the darkness of your mind.

There was no question in your mind as to who this guest was.

And to call for shogi players had you certain he was looking for you. Would he execute you when you walked into a room so clearly lacking in vision? Put an immediate end to the one person who could potentially stir his cold heart if fate were to be believed?

It seemed like the only reasonable explanation

The request to send another in your place died on the tip of your tongue as you once again tuned in to what the madame was saying. “...make sure you’re in top form, I’ve heard any who lose to him are immediately disposed of, but I’m sure that man will be no match for you.”

You wouldn’t send another to face their death. You were the only courtesan in the house who was any good at shogi, anyone else would certainly perish. This was a meeting dictated by fate and you had no opportunity to run from it. You would face him head on and deal with your death graciously, greet your end alone in the dark just like everything else you’d ever faced.

“I’ll do my best,” you said to the madame, and that was the final moment you had for yourself, your sacrifice sealed by your words.

The rest of the morning was spent in a frenzied rush, dressing you up and perfecting your makeup, turning you into a sparkling beauty ahead of your presentation to a monster. Based on the quiet nature of your handmaid, the experience felt more like she was dressing your corpse for burial.

Neither of you spoke such a thing aloud, but tears dripped from sightless eyes all the same when she led you out to the carriage, the madam trailing behind her, sending you off with a soft farewell filled with a sense of finality.

—

Sukuna had undergone an annoying few months.

Steadily, he had made his way, region by region, up to the north of Japan in search of a blind shogi player whose skill allegedly eclipsed his own. In each area, he would call upon all shogi-playing courtesans to meet with him and join him in a game, in the hopes that one day it would be you sitting across from him.

So far, he’d been unsuccessful, and had left a growing pile of bodies and burnt villages in his wake, utterly irritated that the thing he was seeking still evaded his grasp. No one had beaten him. A few had come close but none of them had been blind, so he could be certain that they weren’t you.

He was beginning to wonder if you’d gone into hiding somewhere, forsaking your courtesan life entirely in a bid to avoid him. It wouldn’t surprise him - you’d been in his body, you’d seen he was a monster, a fragile little thing like you was probably terrified at the idea of ever crossing his path.

Either way, he’d still persevere. He’d kill every shogi player if that was what it took to get to you.

He’d recently found his way into the mountainous region of Miyagi, where winter was in full spring. Taking up residence in the mayor’s home in one of the more populous towns in the prefecture, he once again started his usual process of gathering the shogi players. Word spread fast and droves of them appeared swiftly, waiting to be called before him.

It went much as usual, with boring girls presenting themselves before him and providing him with equally boring games of shogi. These people were painfully predictable with no appreciation for the art of the game - really it was a gift for him to steal their lives from them, because he couldn’t imagine living while being so pitifully unskilled.

The pool of Miyagi courtesans was gradually running dry and Sukuna was preparing himself for another disappointing journey further north when his luck finally shifted.

He knew he’d found you the moment you walked in through the door.

You’d stumbled in meekly, eyes averted down to the floor as you bowed low and shuffled towards the centre of the room. You were taking care not to raise your head for him to look upon, and he quickly realised you were making your best effort to conceal your blindness from him, like you could keep your identity secret that way.

It was a futile attempt, for the very atmosphere around you felt charged, his heart picking up inexplicably at the very sight of you.

To say you were beautiful was an understatement. Everything about you was gorgeous, from your soft hair to the striking intensity of your unseeing eyes. You wore the finest silks and they hung off you well, complimenting your figure. He found himself eager to touch you, to rid you off your lovely gown and have his fingers against your smooth skin.

But that wasn’t the reason he had come, and he would play you before entertaining any other matter.

“Sit,” he ordered, taking great amusement in the shiver that seemed to run through you at the sound of his voice.

You dropped to your knees on the cushion before the board, hands pressing against the edge of the table. It was the first chance he got to take a proper look at your eyes, expecting them to be clouded over, but taken aback by the lovely colour your irises still held beneath that mist.

“You’re blind.” He observed aloud, taking note of the way your teeth caught your lower lip anxiously.

“I see more than enough,” your response was guarded.

He hummed, a sly grin settling on his face. Idly, he wondered if you could sense it, because you seemed to tense up a little, fidgeting across from him in a way his traitorous brain seemed to register as endearing. “Is that so? Do you see enough to know my strategy before we commence? Or will you disappoint me like the others?”

“You tell me.”

Your words had his heart stirring against his will, impressed by your serenity before him, still sitting up straight and calm despite the fear he could sense within you. You were a woman who held confidence despite it all, harboured strength even in the face of your obvious weaknesses. He wondered what you were thinking, if you believed he was there to execute you for the mere transgression of being his soulmate.

It wasn’t a foolish assumption.

He would kill you without a second thought if you were uninteresting to him.

But he’d reserve that judgement until after you had played. He had been promised someone exceptional and that was what he wished to see, anything less and your blood would stain the floor just like every other woman who had sat before him. Would you still be so calm if you could see the bodies littering the room? He assumed not.

He wondered if you hated him, if you cursed fate itself to be paired with a man like him. Nothing about you gave anything away, all your focus fixed on the board in front of you, your hands moving steadily against the wood of the board, as if centring yourself.

“Shall we begin?” He asked.

“Yes.”

Sukuna couldn’t quite comprehend what had transpired in that first game he played against you.

He had approached things in much the same manner that he always would when playing shogi - opening strong and attempting to completely overwhelm his opponent, and yet somehow he found opportunities snatched from him at every turn.

Nothing seemed to catch you off guard. Any attempted play was greeted with an easy answer from you, as though you were battling a child. You were always three steps ahead of him, never hesitating in the shifting of a piece, moving with a certainty that had him transfixed.

He found that he couldn’t draw his eyes away from you, his struggle on the board forgotten at the realisation he’d been well and truly defeated. There was no point in struggling further - you had swatted him aside in the way that he usually defeated others, and you had done it with no glee or brag, nothing more than passive indifference once the games finally came to an end.

Your shoulders were raised, as if awaiting something you wouldn’t be able to see coming. A strike from him, perhaps? Or the neat removal of your head from your shoulders? The same fate of all others he’d played across the last few months.

But he wasn’t in the position to do anything at that moment, lashes fluttering as he stared at you, his heart hammering against his ribcage.

There had been no lie told about your skill - on the contrary, you had exceeded his expectations spectacularly. He wanted to play you again and again, wanted to witness the beauty of the way you played, wished to spend hours lost deep in thought considering how he could even begin to pick you apart in a match.

He could spend years sitting across you, gazing upon your lovely form while you worked away in silence with such unquestionable mastery.

No wonder Sugawara had been disappointed in Sukuna’s ability. He couldn’t hold a candle to what you were.

“How?” He asked, unable to think of another word to offer.

Your head was still lowered, eyes fixed elsewhere. He wished you’d look at him, allow him a clearer view of your face, but it occurred to him that such a request may not be easily granted with your lack of vision. You would never be able to lock eyes with each other - it would be something entirely meaningless for you.

“You aren’t all that good,” you spoke softly, a smile playing on your lips.

Sukuna disagreed with your sentiment, considering he’d never been beaten before, but perhaps you’d consider all his previous opponents to be genuinely pitiful at the game.

“So, will you take my life now? Or is that reserved for the losers?” You asked.

“To take the life of someone I could not best would be cowardly and pointless,” he said with a snort. “How would I ever grow to be better than you if I extinguished you from the world? Don’t be foolish. We will play again.”

And again you played.

Game after game until the sun began to rise in the sky, and Sukuna could sense exhaustion drifting through your fragile form. You were shivering from the cold, and he had Uraume bring in a robe to wrap around you, keenly aware of how sickly you seemed to look beneath all the beauty. You were setting up the board for your tenth match when Sukuna finally put an end to things.

“Enough. I would take no joy in defeating an exhausted opponent.” He rose to his feet, stretching as he moved. He wasn’t keen on remaining still for long periods of time, but you seemed accustomed to it, staying deathly still upon your cushion, uncertainty evident in your posture.

“Then, you will send me to my home?” You asked.

“No.” The word escaped him before he could stop it.

He did not wish for you to go anywhere, lest you slip from his grasp never to be found again. It was because he wanted to play you more, that’s what he told himself, but there was more to it than that, and in his soul he knew it.

He never wanted the image of you on your knees before him to slip away, never wanted to lose the pleasurable feeling of warmth that swelled in his chest with you there within his gaze.

“You’ll accompany me to my home, and we’ll play until I’m satisfied.”

—

Weeks had passed since you’d arrived at Sukuna’s estate in the Hida Mountains.

You’d been given no time to bid goodbye to the women at the only home you’d ever known, swept off in a carriage down south where you had to relearn your surroundings in a totally new environment.

Of course, it wasn’t the first time you’d been in the estate, but that experience made little impact on the ease of traversing around with no vision. You had to move slowly, fingers brushing on blurry objects shadowed in the darkness, hoping you didn’t trip over something or walk into a screen door.

For the most part, you were left to your own devices. Sukuna had spoken little to you on the journey home, opting to ride on his horse rather than in the carriage with you, and he’d been equally elusive in his own estate, leaving you in isolation for days at a time.

You couldn’t complain, for your days were spent in peace and serenity.

You would take long walks in the breeze of his garden, have his servants read aloud to you, and practice playing the erhu. On days where it was particularly cold and the chill seeped into your bones, you would remain in the grand bed he had provided and find greater comfort than you ever had in the old bed you’d laid upon in the courtesan house.

The only obligation you ever had to fulfill were shogi games. And during the times that he wasn’t absent from the estate, those would take place every evening, in Sukuna’s own private quarters.

It was an odd decision, considering that the servants played shogi out in the garden, where a proper table was set up for that purpose. But it seemed that Sukuna took care in ensuring your meetings were private - a decision you didn’t dare read into too deeply.

You didn’t dare read into any of his behaviour too deeply, lest you rip your own heart from your chest.

That first meeting with him had been like nothing you’d ever experienced - genuine desire overcoming you at the deep tone of his voice. Even knowing that he could cause your death with little effort, you couldn’t bury the lust within you, a fire that only burned stronger with each encounter with him.

It was hard to hold it together, to pretend that you wouldn’t fling yourself into his arms given the chance, but you tried all the same, keeping yourself distant and cold, like you didn’t dream of him between your legs each night, imagining the sound of his voice whispering sweet nothings against your ear.

Whether he felt the effect to the same extent you did, you weren’t sure. You were certain you’d never know. His interest in you was surrounding shogi, and shogi alone.

One evening, you were sitting across from him having played a handful of games, finding victory had fallen into your hands even more easily than normal. Sukuna seemed distracted by something, the sound of fidgeting settling in your ears. He hadn’t moved to start a new game, and based on the shadowy shapes in your vision, you could only assume he was leaning forward upon the table, bringing him close enough for his breath to fan your face.

“I killed today,” he said. Those were the first words he’d spoken to you that evening - you always followed his example with conversation, if he was feeling chatty you would indulge him, if he wished for silence you would give him that too.

You weren’t exactly sure where he was going with that statement, nor were you certain what type of response he was seeking, so you offered him a hum of acknowledgement and little more. You didn’t wish to think of the death that stained his hands, but nor did it build your animosity towards him.

To some extent you could understand lashing out at the world when you were someone so desperately lonely as he was. Part of you believed that if you hadn’t been so frail perhaps you’d lash out at the world for your own condition. His primary servant had told you he’d been despised throughout his life, and when you find only cruelty in humans it's difficult to cling to kindness.

Sukuna wasn’t so simple as a mere monster. You’d understood that in the day you’d spent in his body, and had only further confirmed it by the intelligence he displayed when you’d speak over games of shogi. He had a great admiration for art and skill, and had seemed rather taken when you’d recited poetry, responding with verses of his own.

He was a multi-faceted man, and much of what you saw only seemed to further your attraction to him, even knowing it was wrong, even knowing you’d be hated for it. For once, you felt you’d found someone who understood what it was like to be you, to be cut off from the easy lives lived by most others.

A soul that entwined so perfectly with yours, even if he’d never be aware of such a thing.

“Do you wish to know who I killed?” He asked.

“I know few people, my lord. I doubt a name would mean anything to me.”

“This one might. I’ve heard you’re familiar with Officer Sugawara? He’s one of the Shogun’s men?”

Thoughts of your regular flickered through your mind. If you were being honest with yourself, you were glad to not have to see him anymore - him or any of the other clients you’d been forced to take. Courtesan life had been difficult for you, forced into it thanks to the conditions of your birth and kept there by a disability that made it hard to escape the life for something better.

Life in Sukuna’s estate had been easier, especially as the weeks passed and you grew more comfortable in the belief that Sukuna wasn't going to steal your life from you. You’d lived in fear of Sugawara buying you out, of being forced to live like some doll in the house of a terribly boring man whose voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard to your ears.

“I know him.”

“Knew him, would be more apt. His body lies at the foot of the mountain.” Sukuna spoke matter-of-factly. “He came to claim you from me. I refused and we couldn’t reach an amicable agreement, so I dealt with it another way.”

You weren’t sure how to react, struggling to process the words. That Sugawara would follow you down to Hida already came as a surprise, you hadn’t known how deep his devotion ran. But somehow, you found yourself rather taken by Sukuna’s decision, by the certainty in his choice to keep you.

To kill a man whose death could cause him issues with the Shogun might as well have been an outright confession of love.

Sugawara’s death meant little to you. Men like that died all the time, and they saw women as little more than pretty objects to own. Sugawara had seen you as an impressive party trick, a clever cat rather than a human with depth and desires of her own. You hadn’t wanted to be his, wouldn’t have liked for Sukuna to surrender you to him.

“Are you irritated with me? When I controlled your body you seemed repulsed at his presence. Perhaps you have a heart too soft for blood and death.”

“No- I-” You hesitated. “Did you do this to protect me?”

There was silence for a moment, and you longed to see his facial expression, but were forced to settle for the hint of confusion in his tone. “Of course. I’ve protected you since bringing you here. You can hardly protect yourself.”

You couldn’t find it in you to be offended - he’d been in your body, he knew of your frailty better than anyone.

“Why? Just because you enjoy shogi so much?”

“Somewhat. Though I must confess, lately I have been losing interest in the game. I feel I’ve come up against an insurmountable wall.” Panic filled you immediately, mind running at a million miles a minute as you analysed his statement. If he was growing bored of playing would he cast you aside? What use did he have for you if not shogi?

But then again, why would he kill Sugawara if he was moments from disposing of you?

“Perhaps it is the fault of my own discipline, for I’ve found it hard to focus on the game for quite some time now.” He hesitated, and you found yourself flinching at the feeling of a soft hand caressing your cheek, leaning into it once you overcame the initial shock of touch. “It is difficult when you have a beautiful woman sitting across from you. It’s even harder when my soul calls for you whenever you're near, drowning out any thoughts I might gather of strategy.”

“Oh.” You weren’t sure what to say, wondering if you should pinch yourself, for many of your dreams centred themselves around such a confession. But the touch had never felt so real before, large fingers brushing against the soft skin of your face.

“I wonder if I’d be more focussed if I admitted fate might make some sense after all. I have never denied myself anything before now, and I’m tired of denying myself you. You have captivated me thoroughly, and I believe the hole in my chest was carved out to allow you to one day settle there.”

The words were by far the most romantic statement anyone had ever uttered to you. In your time as a courtesan you’d heard plenty of cheesy and affectionate lines, ones you’d brush off and forget by the time the client was done with you. Sukuna’s words would burrow into your heart and remain there for as long as you drew breath.

Could anyone fault you for loving a monster who would speak such beauty to you? Could you be hated for finding one who had been cursed by the world just like you had?

“I have no care for the Shogun’s men,” Sukuna continued, “in my eyes they are little more than flies most of the time, an annoying thing to be ignored unless they brush too close. Would it amuse you to know I killed Sugawara out of jealousy? To hear that my chest tightened at the idea of you being taken from my side?”

“Because you enjoy having such a capable rival in intelligence?” You asked, a wry smile creeping onto your face.

“Because I enjoy you.”

It was clear he was waiting for you to say something. The words that had poured from his mouth were unlike any he’d spoken before, and although you couldn’t see him, you could feel the sense of restlessness that gripped his body.

You would not leave him in uncertainty.

“I have only ever seen the world through your eyes,” you confessed shyly, “the only face I see in the endless darkness is yours, and I dream of it every night.” Sukuna’s fingers twitched against your face. “If you’ll have me, I am yours.”

“Even though I’m a monster?” He asked. There was no remorse in his tone, nothing to suggest that he was pained over who he was, it was just an honest question for you to answer as you wished. “You were scared of me when we met. I know you hid yourself from me after discovering our connection, eager to ensure our paths would never cross.”

“Because I believed you would kill me. I thought you to be a man who would stamp out any notion of love and eliminate me along with it.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, failing to deny your statement. You knew it to be true - if you had lost your shogi game on that first meeting, he would’ve done exactly that. It was in his nature to love only that which piqued his interest.

“Especially to be paired with someone so weak, I thought you would consider it an insult.”

He scoffed. “You are far from weak, I’ve found it impossible to best you.”

“I meant physically,” your voice went small. “I did not imagine the King of Curses would favour a sightless woman, nor one so easily broken.”

He was silent for a moment, seemingly processing your words. “I was small and frail once. Perhaps frailer than you. I wish someone had valued me then for my other virtues. I’m big enough and sharp enough to make up for your failings and you are clever enough to cover mine.”

Your mind was reeling at the idea of him admitting to having failings. Your heart stirring at his affection, and his easy desire despite your condition.

“I had not imagined a soulmate to be so well suited to me, for my tangles with fate have always been cruel,” he said. “But you’re something different, something I need at my side, and I will be your eyes, your protector, whatever it is you want in order to keep you there.”

“Oh.” You were positively blushing, whole body trembling beneath the weight of lovely words spoken in that deep voice of his.

Your soulmate wanted you.

A man hated by the world and filled with hatred in return had a space carved out for you, a space for love you hadn’t known him capable of.

You’d loved him from the first time you’d met him, drawn to him by an inexplicable force which seemed to grip him just as hard.

Soulmates really were wonderful.

Silence had settled between the two of you, only broken as the table screeched across the floor, the barrier between you removed. Sukuna shifted forward and an arm came to rest around your smaller body, pulling you towards him. His lips pressed against yours in a kiss you could only describe as sweet.

He didn’t dominate you in the manner you believed a man like him would, instead he took his time, mapping out your lips and drawing you closer to him, letting you bathe in the warmth of his body against yours. It was almost like he was trying not to scare you, aware that you couldn’t see anything he was doing and trying to move slowly as a result.

You wouldn’t have minded either way, your fingers clinging to the biceps of his upper arms, desperate for more of a touch you’d only ever dreamed of.

People always said that to finally touch your soulmate was a euphoria like nothing else, and you truly believed them to be right. Your head felt like it was swimming, chest swelling as if Sukuna’s own soul had wriggled beneath your skin to intertwine with your own.

It was a little overwhelming.

“How I long for you,” he murmured against your ear, breaking the kiss. “I was foolish to have not had you the moment I laid eyes on you, I’ve ached for your touch longer than I care to admit.”

His fingers moved down to your robes, and your breath hitched at the touch. You were no stranger to sex, your job had required it, but the feeling as he undressed you wasn’t like any previous encounter you’d had. What regulars thought of your body was insignificant to you, sex was nothing special with them, just something you had to do if you wished to make a living wage.

This was the first time you’d ever been touched for free by someone you desired, and you felt suddenly nervous at your frail body being judged beneath his crimson gaze - especially when you couldn’t look upon him in the same moment. There was no distraction in the darkness to keep you from worrying about how his gaze might burn through you, imagining discontent on his handsome face.

A cold chill caught you once your robes fell, leaving you kneeling and exposed in front of him. A soft breath fell from his lips, fingers moving delicately from your shoulders down to your breasts, as if checking you were truly real and there before him. More heat flooded you as his finger brushed over your peaked nipple.

“Beautiful. If I didn’t despise the idea of sharing you with another I would paint you like this. Your body is worthy of that reverence.”

“I think my mind is probably more splendid.” You confessed. You had no eyes for awareness of your appearance, and had subsequently never really relied on it. People had said you were lovely, but you could never quite believe it, assuming that they were taking pity on you for your blindness.

“Your mind is exceptional. If I cannot beat you at shogi soon I have half a mind to ask you to assist me with real life strategy,” he said with a chuckle, fingers still trailing a slow path down your body. “But it doesn’t make your body any less lovely, and you cannot deny such things since you’ve never seen yourself. Let me be your eyes and tell you that you are breathtaking.”

A shyness overcame you at those words, head angled downwards as if it would hide your blushing state from him. He raised your chin with a finger, his nose bumping yours before capturing your mouth in a kiss once more, bringing you close against his bare chest. You were so lost in the comfort of the kiss, that you found yourself completely caught off guard when something wet swiped against your stomach and breasts.

Flinching in surprise, you drew yourself back in an attempt to understand what was happening. Sukuna laughed, a hand moving into your hair comfortingly. “It's my tongue,” he spoke easily.

Frowning, you found that his answer didn’t make sense, because still the wet appendage explored your breasts, sending your heartrate flying as it flicked against your nipple with impressive accuracy. How could he be speaking but also doing that?

“There’s a mouth on my stomach. Perhaps you didn’t notice when you controlled my body.”

You were ashamed to admit you hadn’t noticed such a thing. Sukuna had been naked when you’d awoken in his body, and you’d been quick to dress him up in robes, feeling rude to intrude upon the body of another without consent. You’d very intentionally not paid too much attention to the workings of his body, not when the first thing you’d seen was the oddity he sported between his legs.

The memory that he had two of what most men only had one, suddenly had you feeling a little nervous in your position. You had no time to voice such nervousness before he was picking you up, allowing his second tongue to continue its onslaught while he carried you over to the bed, depositing you down upon the silk.

His weight moved on top of you, and he swallowed a gasp with his lips as his monstrous tongue shifted its attention from your breasts down to between your legs, dexterously finding a path between your things and lathering your pussy with attention while Sukuna consumed your mouth. Tears pricked in your eyes at the sensation, unaccustomed to a feeling like that.

In all your years as a courtesan, you’d never been eaten out. Men didn’t come to brothels to serve women, they came to have their own needs attended to, and you’d done that in whichever manner they desired. You were grateful to have never experienced that feeling before, because it was a blessing to have Sukuna be your first.

Pressure built in your stomach over a series of minutes, overwhelmed by the way he seemed to be everywhere. A tongue between your lips, another between your thighs, hands squeezing your breasts, tweaking your nipples, more hands gripping your hips, pulling you up onto his secondary tongue to allow it a better angle to overwhelm you.

For the first time, you started to understand how Sukuna must feel whenever he played you at shogi - stumbling blindly in the dark whilst overcome from all angles with no means of knowing what was going to come next. It was pleasure in its highest form, and you were quick to cum with a yelp of his name, tears dripping from the corners of your eyes.

Sukuna broke the kiss, breathing heavily against your ear. It was a sound you enjoyed, one you could listen to all day if he’d allow you. “I have imagined you beneath me like this every night this week,” he mused, “my imagination is hardly as pleasant as having the real thing. You taste much sweeter than my mind could conjure.”

Again, you were flushing red. “Y-you can taste me through…that?”

“Of course.” You were certain he was grinning, “And I’m glad that I can.” His secondary tongue was still moving slowly through your folds, lapping up the remnants of your first orgasm, teasingly flicking against your clit and making your shudder.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, breathing quietly together. You weren’t sure what Sukuna wanted to do next, but for a moment you were happy to savor the warmth of his heavy body, twitching while he lazily continued his attention to your body. How you longed to see him, eager to witness the expression he was wearing while he attended to you.

All you had to go off was the erratic beating of his heart where his chest was pressed against you.

“Let me have you,” he murmured against your ear. “Let me make you mine.”

“I’m already yours.”

“Is that so? Then let me make it official.”

He shifted atop you, withdrawing his secondary tongue. In the absence of that heat between your thighs, you grew suddenly aware of a heavy pressure against your leg. Your mind jumped to the image of his cocks that you’d filed away in the back of your mind, gut twisting at the thought of either one of them pressing into you.

Sukuna chuckled from above you, a hand coming to stroke your hair. “You’ve seen them, haven’t you?”

You nodded.

“I can tell, you’ve got that scared little look on your face. It’s fascinating, when you play shogi you’re unreadable, but outside of that? You’re practically an open book with your emotions always written across your face.”

Pouting, you let humiliation wash over you. Nobody had ever told you that before. It was hard to guard one's emotions when you had no measure of how the faces of others looked. That was something you’d have to work on. At least you had the good sense to give nothing away when you played shogi.

Another laugh echoed from his lips. “Even now I can see your panic. It’s very endearing.”

Any protest or response you had for him faded away into the recesses of your brain as he shuffled on top of you. He maneuvered you carefully into a new position, raising your legs and placing them up atop his broad shoulders. You were grateful for your flexibility in that moment, because the size difference between the two of you made that no easy task.

Sukuna was watching you from above while he positioned one of his cocks between your legs, running it steadily through your wet folds in a way that had you shivering with desire, still not fully recovered from the actions of his tongue. You were quick to discover that his focus was on his lower cock, as the upper one bumped pleasurably against your clit.

“You know,” he mused, stilling his movements. “I’m surprised you struck no deal with me. It is what I had imagined you would do.”

“What?”

“I’d assumed I would ask for more and you would refuse me. I’d thought your respect was tied to shogi, that you would refuse anything from me unless I was capable of beating you.” Your mind moved to Sugawara as you connected the dots. Sukuna believed you’d made that deal before, as if that tiresome Official hadn’t dictated those rules of his own choosing.

Shogi was a game you adored, mainly because it was an activity you could excel at even without sight, unlike many other courtesan pastimes such as painting, which would forever be an impossibility for you. But it was by no means something you made all your decisions on, nor were you particularly interested in the skill of others.

If someone could defeat you, you would congratulate them for their win and move on, it would ultimately mean little.

To you, it was little more than a game. To various men, it seemed to be something held in much higher regard - a true mark of intelligence rather than a game for which one could learn and remember strategies to allow them a win.

It mattered little to you whether Sukuna could defeat you or not. Your affection for him wasn’t tied to it in any manner.

“To make such a demand would be wasting my own time. Why would I turn down a man I desire over something so trivial? Besides, my bet with Sugawara was made to ensure I never had to lay with him, that is not the fate I want for us.”

“So you believe I am incapable of winning?” He asked, with greater disappointment than you’d been expecting.

“I do,” you said with a giggle, “just as I am incapable of emerging victorious in a battle. We all have our strengths.”

A yelp fell from you as he pushed the tip of his cock into you, catching you unawares. “Yeah?” He asked, pressing deeper into you, his fingers tangling tightly into your hair. “Rather sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

You couldn’t help but laugh again - even in the midst of the dull pain of him driving into you, there was something so endearingly pathetic about his words.

“I am. But you’re free to challenge me whenever you like.”

He was silent as he bottomed out inside of you, his face falling to your neck and leaving a trail of kisses and bites along your skin while he allowed you some time to adjust. You were grateful for his consideration of your wellbeing, fingers digging into his skin, your gut aching as he leaned forwards over you, pushing your legs higher on his shoulders.

There was no question that he was the largest man you’d ever had inside you, practically tearing you apart with his intrusion, but after a few minutes of stillness you found yourself able to relax, the panic exhibited by your body slowly dissipating as you accommodated his size.

“I will challenge you whenever I like,” he whispered against your ear. “After this, the cloud of lust you’ve placed in my mind will be thinner, and I will beat you with ease.”

“Oh, I’m sure-”

Your snarky response was promptly cut off as he withdrew himself from you, only to swiftly fill you up once more, pulling a desperate cry of his name from your lips. There was no second adjustment period given, instead you found yourself clinging on for dear life as he filled you over and over again with swift and deep thrusts that had your eyes rolling back.

One of his hands moved to your stomach, pressing down against the bulge where his cock would press up inside you. It was clear he was fascinated by it, finding great enjoyment in you being claimed by him. You were certain he was no virgin, but it seemed that you were the first woman who meant something to him, the first one who was worth something beyond carnal pleasure.

Legs quivering beneath the weight of his thrusts, you appreciated the way two of his hands came to rest on your thighs, keeping you steady with each brutal snap of his hips. You were crying and whining, your hands blindly reaching for him but finding him just out of range in this position. Seemingly to appease you, he leant further forward, really testing the flexibility of your legs as he practically folded you in half.

Lips pressed against your forehead affectionately, and you enjoyed every single second of his attention, mind floating off on a cloud as your gut tightened with each careful stroke, your walls flexing around his cock. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, a feeling only heightened by the erratic contact of his higher cock rubbing up against your clit.

“You feel so good, fuck. I can’t last like this,” he grumbled, never losing pace. It stroked your ego to know of his desire, to understand just how much he’d been holding back since your first meeting. It was everything you imagined the joining of two soulmates would be - desperately euphoric and overflowing with pleasure.

Sex had never felt so good, it had never really felt good at all, and yet you could spend eternity with Sukuna buried inside of you, your bodies and souls joined just as they were always meant to be.

He was yours and you were his. It was just as fate had decreed.

There was nothing stopping the scream that ripped through you as you finally teetered over the edge, your body convulsing in pleasure and clamping down on Sukuna’s thick cock, eager to milk him for all he was worth. You were sobbing his name and writhing against the silk sheets, your hands gripping them desperately in an attempt to anchor yourself to something in the throes of pleasure.

Sukuna couldn’t hold on long after that either, spilling into you with a warmth that only heightened your pleasure. His other cock found its release at the same time, cum dripping down onto your stomach in a manner that you’d usually find disgusting, if it weren’t your soulmate who was doing it to you. He groaned your name quietly, and let your legs fall from his shoulders.

Without the barrier of your thighs, he settled himself down on top of you, pressing kisses all over your face, his cock still twitching inside your exhausted pussy. You let him lather you with affection, still trying to come to terms with this side of Sukuna. It had been what you’d wanted, what you believed he was capable of, but you hadn’t dreamed it would truly happen.

The most you believed you’d get from him was a lifetime of shogi matches, in which the two of you would remain close but never cross the line you’d been so desperate to leap across.

“Has the fog of lust lifted?” You teased. “Do you believe now you can defeat me?”

Sukuna let out a low, rumbling chuckle. “Perhaps we will have to do that a few more times for it to fully ease.”

“Oh is that so?” You giggled, reaching out for his hair. He gripped your wrist and moved it into position, allowing you to play with the soft locks you’d been so eager to touch since the first time you’d seen them upon his head.

You wished you could gaze upon that lovely shade of pink once more, but it was enough to know he was there before you, yours to touch as you pleased.

“Mmm, I think it would help,” he purred.

“I’m sure that can be arranged.”

You’d give him whatever he wanted. You were his and he was yours for as long as he’d have you.

a/n: I had so much fun writing this one! thinking about doing one soulmate au for each of the jjk men because I find them so enjoyable to play with <3

anyway, for any crazy in love fans, the next chapter will be out towards the end of this week!

perma taglist: @calicatzz @suzunu @winkii @sukubusss @bobis-notmylover @tetsuski @torupilled @brattyxackerman @r0vena @chaos-4baby @moonlitreveri3 @feyrinnn @strawberryrosey @creamofsneky-blog @zeeseekay @p1nkfl0wers @apricityn @keiiiluv @dogggggggblog-kaye @duckie3801 @lav4mpira @seellove @cutesytwt @gojodickbig @yuujispinkhair @somos-things @yeagersss @paradisestarfishh @jennilynn63 @tthhaattgguuyy27 @bexxli @being-blue-is-better @tisuruxx @juliarchiv3s @dishs0pe @plutoxxxworld @5kkalara @serenadesvt @00frenchfries00 @warriorofenlightenment @scarlet-issilly @himbosexual @pousivuitton @ksjtozaki @certainfanpoetry @gojoscumslut @ynishalee @nakiich

Only people full of shit, you thought. Nodding to yourself, she’s right. Naoya and his family are full of shit and everyone agrees.

Suguru and his friends had gone on their little Japan tour a few days ago. And you were left without any other work, he told you, “Rest day”. For the past week, he had you making flyers here and there for the tour, and you were glad to do it with the income that he promised you; no joke, he called you late at night for a request, even if he does sound apologetic, you still did it because you had no hard feelings for him. In fact, you were glad to even be doing this in the first place.

Also, he did promise to bring something back for you as an apology, extra income in a form of . . . probably food or a keychain. But, hey, a keychain from Sendai doesn’t sound too bad. Or a cheesecake from Hokkaido doesn’t sound too shabby at all.

“Ieiri, can I ask you something?” You pucker your lips slightly, the straw from your “half-full” cup, or as Satoru said “half-empty”. Ieiri stared at you, the streets are bustling and people passed by the sidewalk right by where you and Shoko sat outside the cafe, “It’s about Satoru and Suguru.”

“You’re gonna ask what happened between them,” she guessed. And she guessed right.

“Yeah.”

The corner of her lip tugged upwards slightly, “Don’t think it’s my place to tell that to you, you should ask Satoru about it. Or Suguru now since you’re working for him,” internally, you groaned at her very helpful inquiry, but still, the curiosity wedged in your heart.

Satoru had been extra busy lately, meet ups were rescheduled. Now that he had landed an act as a tree, he was needed during practices and . . . quote unquote, needed for prop making because he was apparently the strongest amongst his peers. It was a stroke to his ego, and Satoru wouldn’t stop telling you about how he helped carry things around the school during this time of the day. And it was bound to happen again.

Though, you don’t mind it at all — in fact, this was much better than the constant flex of social statuses, money, and fame.

“Did they fallout?” You asked, hoping for more enlightment from Shoko who is blissfully smoking her second cigarette of the day, “I just need something. Anything.”

“They fell out, reason? You’d have to ask the both of them,” she shrugs.

Today was one of the days Shoko could have a day off, and she had decided to call you up early in the morning for a little coffee and breakfast. Well, it’s noon now and the both of you were still together, not that you were complaining about it. Times with her are rare, and you’d salvage this moment with her. Her eyes were blankly staring at the people passing by, making sure that every puff of her smoke is directed away from people passing, “I didn’t know they fell out until Suguru came up to talk to me that he was going to move to start a band, actually. It was pretty upsetting, and for a while, I kinda hated them.”

Your eyes softened at her words, “Why?”

“I was there too, wasn’t I?” Her voice died to a soft whisper of solemn, she pressed the burning edge of her cig into the ashtray, pressing on it lightly to kill the fire, “then again, things happen. And it’s really not my place to say anything on their behalves because I’m completely clueless of what actually happened.”

Your thumbs fiddled with each other, Shoko clapped her hands together, “But, I’m completely chill about it now. That was a long time ago, and we’re all good . . . I’m good with the both of them. But them with each other?” She asks herself before shrugging nonchalantly, “Wanna grab dinner together later?”

“You seem to be getting close to Satoru,” Shoko replied, a tinge of slyness in her voice, “I take it everything’s going well then.”

“What? The whole fake dating stuff?” You were nonchalant in answering her, failing to notice the deadpan on her face, “it’s fine. I mean, we’re starting to get to know each other, we went out to see a movie, and stuff. Naoya’s still trying to fuck me up, I swear, he’s everywhere, Ieiri.”

Shoko sighs, “Yeah, that’s what he do. He thinks you can’t get better than him,” there are so many men better than him in every aspect, you rolled your eyes in annoyance, “he won’t stop at nothing to make sure you come back. Which is why Satoru is the perfect choice for this. He’s a total heartstopper.”

You nodded in agreement, “Yeah, I agree.”

“Out of curiosity,” Shoko answers again, sipping on her Americano, “what do you really think of him?”

You got lost in thought. Truthfully, you haven’t known Satoru Gojo for a long time at all, and if you were to be honest; you (shamefully) confess that you barely know him at all. Maybe the surface stuff about him, but if we were talking about what we think of a certain someone. You part your lips, “What do I think of him?” Shoko hums softly, waiting for an answer.

“Well, one,” your thoughts went back to the moments where Satoru drove you home, walked you through the alley, and made sure to wait until you get inside before leaving. Not to mention, the way he pays and teaches you instead of berating you like how Naoya would, “he’s very nice. He walks me home — actually, he drives me there . . . and walks me through the alleyway to my apartment, waits for me to get inside before he leaves. And he tecahes me stuff I don’t understand, and he says nice things to me. Unlike that dickhead, Naoya.”

“What else?”

You groaned, “I’ve known him for what? Going two months maybe, and I don’t know how he really is,” Shoko raised her arms up in mock surrender, finally making sense of it all, “ask me again in a year.”

Shoko grimaced, “I could bet you right now that in a year, you and Satoru are going to be in a loving relationshi—”

You cut her off immediately, “No, I’m saying that I don’t think I’ll be dating anyone soon and that includes Satoru. Despite him being nice,” and why are you talking like he likes you anyways? You shook your head, “and he probably doesn’t see me that way too. We need to stop twisting a completely platonic relationship into something romantic. Yeah?”

“Touche.”

Another thought striked you, “Also,” Shoko already swiveled her face away, “what is with that reaction?”

Shoko blew out a loud and dramatic sigh, “I just know that you’re gonna ask me something about Satoru’s life.”

True, “It’s just pure curiosity. How did he and his ex . . . You know, get together and broke up?” Shoko raises a brow in amusement, “Just curious.”

Shoko’s eyes glinted in a cheshire way, “Glad you asked, I actually just got the full information for that not too long ago. I’m taking full responsibility for what he’s going to say when you tell him that you know about it,” she straightened herself up, “they started dating two years ago. I actually know the girl, which is shocking to me when he told me about it because Suguru and I do not like her at all.”

“Apparently, since college years they had been talking behind our backs. Getting close and all. He confessed that after we graduated, he and his ex-girlfriend apparently started going out a few months after — and mind you, he kept it all a secret until . . .” She points at you and herself, “until all three of us met up so I could match the both of you up. I just knew, and pushed him to tell me about it; also, he got cheated on.”

“Why do you hate the girl?” You questioned.

Shoko hummed, “I wouldn’t say hate. My mistake, I strongly dislike her because we were partnered up a couple of times for a group project and she couldn’t contribute to anything. And by anything, I mean anything. Not even printing costs, transportations, I had to work on everything myself — I did rat her out to my professor and she didn’t pass the class. It’s a mutual thing.”

“Why did she chea—”

Shoko stares deep into your eyes, “All I know is that she never really thought that he was worthy of anything. She just thought he was easy,” you look down at the coffee — the dark brown liquid turning a bit lighter from the melted ice, “we might not see each other much. But, the one thing I can say about Satoru is that when he loves, he loves. And you don’t find that often. So, I guess finding out about this the hard way was very saddening for him.”

You bobbed your head, understanding the situation. “And you know what’s funny?”

Shoko toyed with her straw, “She cheated on him with another mutual good friend of ours,” you bit your lip.

“That sucks.”

“Totally. For someone who just got cheated on, he seems pretty okay — which is also one of his habit, you should take notes. He’s a lonely kid, doesn’t live with his parents anymore. I don’t even think he lives with them back when he was a kid at all. Hard for him to make friends, and he doesn’t talk much if you don’t talk first. So, I guess he felt the comfort with you. That’s good. He loves going outside if he has someone to go with, besides that? He locks himself in and plays games.”

The information opened a new vision and you nod your head, “Okay. Okay. Thank you . . .”

“Thanks for driving me.”

Shoko pokes her head out, “Hey, the alleyway’s pretty dark. Sure you can walk alone? I don’t mind risking a shif—”

“No, your shift is to save lives, gosh. I’ll be okay,” you waved your hand slowly, ushering her away, “it’s fine. Thanks for driving me home, Ieiri. Safe trips home,” Shoko smiles at you, rolling her windows up. You hear her honk three times before taking off into the streets.

The messages end right then and there, and you look around; night breeze caressing your skin gently — walking towards the wall right by the mouth of the alley, you plant your back to it. Shifting left and right, bored. Hands shoved right inside the pockets of your pants to warm them from the crispy air, shoulders rolling in a shiver. You had no idea why you were waiting for him too, maybe a part of you wanted him to walk you inside after all.

No longer than 10 minutes later, his familiar Sedan parked right by the sidewalk in front of you. A small smile tinged on your face at the sight of white mop of hair, instinctively you walked closer to him. The streaks of dark green paint and red ones on his cheek were apparent, and a shy smile displayed on his face.

“Sorry, did you wait long?” He brushed his hands against his white shirt —no, not white anymore. Barely even white actually, it had paint all over it now, and you were sure it was a result of his tree and prop making— Satoru looks down at you, “It’s chilly. You didn’t bring a jacket?”

Your head shook lightly, “No. I didn’t think it was gonna be this cold,” truthfully, it wasn’t actually that cold. You just couldn’t help but to agree at his statement, in fact the words came out before you could process it, “you came all the way here just to walk me inside here,” your hand gestured towards the mouth of the entrance.

Satoru took off his glasses, shouldering the sweat on his nosebridge, “Yeah. If you haven’t noticed, it’s creepy in there. Instead of you getting scared alone, we should be scared together,” he was scared all this time? Now the guilt pooled on the bottom of your stomach, swirling at his words.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

His fingers slid the glasses back into place, and the alluring cerulean glinted happily, “I actually wanted to, and I’m more than happy to do it. It’s my decision, no?” Smart, you bobbed your head in agreement, not being able to deny that, “Let’s get you home then.”

He walks first, guiding you into the alleyway. Satoru was tall enough to hide your view in front, all you could see is the outline of his back, and it made you feel safe. Satoru pops out of the other side with a smile, the streaks of paint crinkling under the strain of his skin, “How was your day?”

“Good,” you answered him slowly, “yours?”

Is he about to flex about his strength again? Satoru parts his lips, “Better now. It was tiring, but at least we got to meet. Ice cream tomorrow then? We can agree on that, right?” You grinned at him.

“Yes. Ice cream.”

“I’ll pick you up then,” he states, not asked.

“Is that absolute?”

Satoru nods his head, “Mhm.”

“Alright, pick me up then.”

“What kind of game?” He tch-ed, tempted to take the plain stem now from you. 

“I asked if you love me,” you admitted, and he couldn’t decide if this was some crude attempt at teasing him. His fingers sank deeper into your side, pulling you deeper into his lap. 

He nodded towards the scattered petals on the floor, the blood slowly spreading and threatening to seep into them.  “What did you land on?”  

“You love me not.” 

Sukuna’s mouth twitched at how you said it. As if you gave an idiotic child’s game weight. 

But he didn’t protest. Didn’t say no or scoff. 

Instead, he pried you off of him, placing you on the floor, barely bothering to check that you wouldn’t be stepping in blood before he started towards the exit. 

“Kuna,” you started in a soft voice, the irritatingly intimate making him freeze for a split-second, enough that you corrected yourself. He'd only criticized you for it once, snapped at you to refer to him properly when he was at his court. “My lord.” “My chambers tonight,” he announced, not looking back at you. 

There was a rhythm to the routine. A monotony he found dull and draining, a familiar itch creeping under his skin at staying here this long. He wanted back out in battle. To find some other sorcerer claiming themselves capable to cleave down. 

He made up his mind during his next meal, stuffing his mouth full of meat, fork stabbing clean through the fine cut of someone he never got the name of as he planned out his next departure. Some irritating white-haired woman kept trying to talk to him from across the table, claiming to be from some clan he couldn’t care less about. 

An advisor tried to quell his annoyance, but it was like another bug in his ear, whispering that she could be useful as a concubine, as if Sukuna gave a shit. A flick of his fingers was all it took for the room to finally fall silent – even if the wall was now splattered with blood. 

Perhaps they should be grateful he gave them messes to clean. Stable employment meant they wouldn’t starve. That their children wouldn't. 

Not everyone was so lucky. 

You kept eating next to him, taking a long sip of your wine before excusing yourself a few moments later, leaving without looking over at the still body in the seat next to you. You weren’t apathetic like him, but you would hold your tongue no matter how much his anger hurt you. 

Did it splinter your soul to see him kill? 

Sukuna had no way to know. 

Conversations weren’t something so commonplace between the two of you anymore. So much had changed, enough that he tried to convince himself that you were simply a body that he shared his bed with. 

He disliked the other concubines. They always expected things from him. Wanted clothes or jewels or power. Occasionally, he considered making you his wife, if only to put the others in their place. 

To remind them that they would never occupy the space by his throne. That they would never have children that would sit on it. 

His new advisors, these men who swore they had intelligence simply because they were schooled, they all urged him to. Begged him to select someone from a clan to have a child with, for his legacy, but he refused. 

Why would he want a child? Especially one that would be like him? 

He’d carve out his own legacy.

You were waiting for him by the time he returned to his room, cross-legged on the floor, squinting at a poetry book. Neither of you had learned to read as a child, but he’d begrudgingly hired you a tutor – and just happened to sit in on your lessons to learn himself. Supervising, he said. You didn't argue otherwise, even if your brow subtly arched up at his looming presence, his bottom set of arms folded across his chest while the tutor instructed you on how to write, teaching you everything from haikus to the hidden meanings in famous poems. 

Sukuna had found it unfortunate when he had to kill him, but it wasn't his fault that the fool had tried to put a hand on your waist, no matter how innocent he claimed it was. 

You had been mad at him though, huffing and shutting yourself in your room for four days before you started speaking to him again. 

Calling him a child, like you weren't the one clinging to this life he created. 

“What are you thinking about?” You asked, drawing him out of another pointless memory of the past. 

“You left dinner early,” he dismissed your question entirely. He didn't want to answer it. Why dredge up another reason for you to be annoyed with him? 

“I prefer to eat without the smell of iron,” you said, in that measured voice of yours, playing this game of skirting around the real subject.

“You used to eat dirt,” he pointedly reminded you, and you threw your book at him. A rare reaction, your hurt flickering across your face for a few fleeting seconds before you shut back down, maybe remembering that he beheaded a woman for much less hardly fifteen minutes ago. 

“You ate bugs,” you argued, brows furrowed in frustration before you glanced away from him. 

“And now we both get full meals that you don't even finish,” he sharply replied, the edge to his voice echoing as you flexed your jaw, forcing yourself to not respond to him. 

A poor imitation of the meek submission the other women who flitted around in their fine kimonos were well-versed at.

“My apologies, master,” you eventually murmured, your mockery not going unnoticed as you lifted your chin to look up at him from the floor. Dragging your eyes over his bulky frame, muscles stretched taut over bone, skin littered with scars and tattoos. 

And still, you stared like he was just the weakling he used to be. That faint flicker of sorrow persisting even when he had practically handed you a soft life on a silver platter. 

Sukuna scoffed, squinting before he begrudgingly took two steps forward, beckoning you to stand with a single gesture.

You obeyed. Dusting off the skirt of your robe as your hand reached for the tie – but Sukuna beat you to it. 

Skin slowly exposed when he peeled off every layer, removing piece by piece until you were completely bare for him, the light and shadows from the flames dancing across the shape of you while you stood still. Waiting for some appraisal, for him to do with you as he wished. 

Your position was always defined by him after all. As his friend or his fuck. 

He tossed you onto the mattress, his top set of hands pinning your thighs to your chest, watching your eyes widen as his own loosely-fastened robe hit the floor. 

Love was a waste. 

It meant nothing. 

You said it to him once, declared it under the moon, knees curled against your chest as you looked at him like that. But that had been before. Before the estate and the esteemed treatment that came with a title and land and leverage on all the people that previously treated him with disgust. When it was still simply you and him surviving. 

He didn’t say it back. Didn’t do anything other than grunt, tempted to call you a brat for saying something so stupid. 

“You're rather distracted tonight,” you murmured, fingers frozen just before they could touch his face. He flinched from it – pulled back before you could make contact. 

“You’re irritating today,” he grimaced back, even if you were the least annoying part of his life. The only thing that wasn’t dull and dreadful. The only one that actually made him feel alive.

He waited for you to whine that he didn’t really mean that, but your eyes just searched his for silent confirmation. 

You knew better than to expect him to say it out loud. 

And despite that (pretty) little pout of frustration flitting across your face, you were still wet when he dipped a single finger into your dripping warmth. 

All your feelings fading into the mush of pleasure, eyes rolling back with a simple crook of his thick finger, lazily swirling it around to see your reaction. Not much could compare to the adrenaline of a fight, of sorcery and raw strength, but a faint shiver of exhilaration ran down his spine at the sight of you arching your hips up to make sure he was knuckle-deep, lips falling in a lewd moan as he added another digit. 

He ignored it though, shoulders stiff as your walls tried to clamp down on him. 

“Were you this wet when you were on my lap?” He dryly mocked, not particularly caring how mean you might call him for teasing you later. 

You always forgave him. 

Whatever he did, you found a way to justify it. 

You weakly nodded, chin tilted back in the air as your lashes fluttered, gasping for air that didn't seem to go in. 

“Answer me, brat,” he grunted. 

“Yes, m-my lord,” you moaned, and it was only when they parted he noticed your pretty lips painted the same shade as his hair. 

“Sukuna,” he snapped, sick of correcting this stubborn new habit of yours. Sure, it had been who insisted on it in the first place, but it was annoying to remind you of what you were and weren't allowed to do. 

You swallowed hard enough for him to notice, but you still didn't say it. 

Held your mouth closed, and he begrudgingly closed the gap to crash into it, claiming it in a greedy kiss, his tongue in your mouth while you threw your arms over his shoulders. One hand ending up in his hair, scratching at his scalp the way you knew he liked, even if it was another thing he'd never admit out loud. 

You tried to wrap your legs around his waist, to push back against the palms still pressed against your thighs, but he didn't let you budge, refused to allow you to try and lock him in some more personal position. 

For all the times he'd been called a freak, a curse, for these four arms, there were many more he found them quite useful. 

He crooked his fingers deeper, harder, and your body was tensing automatically, your focus fading as you discovered yourself lost and floating in the force of his strokes. Your features softening, catching a fleeting hint of a smile before you were squirming again in his grip. 

Using your body to beg him for more. 

Sukuna did what he always seemed to do. Oblige you. 

Pulling his fingers out the second he thought he stretched you out enough, although it was always a tight fit when it came to him, but he paused, collecting your slick and rubbing it across your puckered hole in preparation for his real main course. 

You were the only thing he wanted to devour tonight. 

Drinking up the way you whined, wiggled your hips as he dipped his finger deeper in your ass, pushing past the initial resistance to open you up. Taking his time before adding another one, keeping a keen eye on your wrecked expression.

“S’torture,” you slurred, weaking moving your arm trying to grab one of his cocks and guide it to your entrance. “Wan’ you.” 

Drunk on him. 

He snatched your wrist before you could touch though, letting out a low growl before dropping it over your head. 

“Then beg,” he mocked. 

“Please,” you immediately whispered, eyes wide and wavering. “Please, Kuna.” 

Sukuna couldn’t stand how much he felt like a slave when you spoke like that, lips pretty and pursed and painted that infuriating fucking color. 

He dragged his fingers out with a heated huff, wiping them on the sheets and glancing down to see how wet you were for him, glistening in between your thighs as he kept them pinned in place. 

“Brat,” he dryly name-called, but his top cock was already throbbing as he slipped it through your soaked folds. Your fingers rushed to tangle in his hair, brushing it back and holding it from his face like he wasn't about to turn you into even more of a blabbering mess.

Glossy eyes hazy with arousal, anticipation as he slipped inch by inch inside, his other cock throbbing, aching to feel you too. Veins pulsing, abs tensing as he felt the sinful way you squeezed and sucked him in. 

“Hngh,” you groaned as his bottom tip started to grind against your ass, already starting to feel full as the first one found that spongy part at the back that left you scrambling for your senses. 

“You're a wreck,” he tch-ed, like he wasn't already resisting the string tugging tight in his own stomach, restraining himself as his second cock finally slipped inside you, the slow burning stretch leaving you frozen, shuddering as you tried to take him without falling apart. 

“Y-you,” you gasped, lashes fluttering, stray tears collected in them as he pulled out just to push back in a rough thrust that made a soft squeak escape instead.

“Finish your sentence,” he murmured, dark and dangerous. He wanted to bite. To sink his teeth into your skin until it left the kind of bruises that would mark you as his to everyone who saw. 

“It’s your fault,” you huffed, half a whisper, half a whimper. 

Sukuna scoffed, rolling his eyes and his hips, stuffing you too full to speak. 

One of his hands groped at your chest, grabbing and squeezing, watching them bounce in time with each thrust, leaning down to wrap his mouth around your peaked nipple. Tongue swirling over the top, sucking hard, toying with you while you unravelled underneath him. 

You tugged at his scalp, but he was too focused on his current task, lapping and licking at the hardened bud, feeling the soft tissue of your tits while your cunt clamped down around him in response. 

Making all sorts of noises that were hardly coherent, moans that hung in the air, the light of the fire dancing across the walls as he fucked you until you forgot all about your attitude earlier. 

His fourth hand flitted between your thighs, finding your clit with ease. Sukuna knew your body inside and out. Memorized without making an effort too. He supposed it was simply time. 

Rubbing rough circles over that bundle of nerves, well-aware what you liked, what was too much, what would make you whine and cry and try to wiggle free. Although, right now? 

Double stuffed with that dreamy look in your eyes, half-lidded and hopeful as you stared up at him while he took you in both holes? 

You would accept anything he gave you. 

Painting patterns he'd done a thousand times before across that sensitive spot, pinching and playing with it until your thighs were trembling, toes curled as your lips were stuck permanently parted in a broken plea of his name. 

You came so easily, he almost found it cute. That soft mind of yours melting with sloppy thrusts, stuffed too full to so much as think while he fucked into your stretched-thin holes, molded into the shape of him. Wrecking you with the way his hips slammed down, threatening to bruise your fragile body. 

But you took him how you always did. 

With greedy moans, nails raking down his shoulders and slicing through his skin. A little allowance he still gave – one he waited to heal until the morning after every time.

And then he was snapping too, warm ropes of cum spurting out and filling you up, his abs tensing before the abrupt release, his breath briefly growing ragged as his chest heaved. 

Most of the world was ugly. A disgusting, boring place he couldn't stand being stuck in. 

But the sight of you as he pulled out, dripping with his seed, kiss-bitten and barely held together, shivering as you struggled to catch your breath, well, it wasn't awful. 

He didn’t mean to cum inside of you. 

A simple accident. He stared indifferently at the cum leaking out onto the sheets, a prick of annoyance setting in at the thought of needing a servant to come change the bedding again in the morning.

It wasn’t the first time he slipped up. But you both were fairly certain years of starving had left you barren. Unable to conceive when you couldn’t even menstruate properly even now. 

There was a time when he didn’t think you’d even survive this long. Nights that he was convinced morning wouldn’t come. 

Where the snow had collected in your hair and ice clung to your lashes, where he couldn’t tell whose wounds were worse, watching you shiver and shake and cry for someone he could never be. 

But it never happened – and you were here now, shivering underneath him for entirely different reasons, sweat making stray hairs stick to your forehead as you belted out one last whine of his name. 

He let go of you, dropped your legs, untangled you from his body. Standing up as his cocks still sprang up in the air, rolling his shoulders back as you tried to sit up straight, clearly sore judging by the way you shuffled and readjusted. 

“Lay down,” he ordered, but you got down on your knees in front of him anyway. Took his top cock in your smaller hand, still covered in cum and slick, gingerly licking it clean before he pulled you off by your hair. “Do you ever listen to me?” 

You pouted at him, but you obeyed this time, pushing off the floor with your palms and crawling back into his bed, pulling the blankets over your bare body. 

Sukuna grunted, using a discarded piece of his own clothes to clean himself off, unable to stop his lower eyes from snapping out to watch you while you tossed and turned, impatiently waiting for his return. 

Irritation bubbling back up at your wide-eyed stare, how you bit your lip at him before squinting, not saying anything when he yanked the covers back and got in too. 

He never understood what was going on in that head of yours. 

“Perhaps we could take a walk around the garden in the afternoon,” you hopefully suggested, your fingers hesitantly interlacing with his, readjusting to lay closer to him. He let you do it. Indulged you when you squeezed his scarred and calloused palm. 

“I leave tomorrow,” he informed you, his mouth twitching down as your face fell. 

He didn’t have to, he supposed. The world revolved around his decisions – he forced fate’s hand. 

“How long will you be gone?” You asked under your breath, your hand slipping away from his to fix a loose strand of your previously pinned-up hair. He rolled away from you, the disappointment in your eyes bothering him like some shallow cut that refused to close. 

“A couple weeks.” 

It ended up being closer to a couple months. 

Days spent on battlefields, nights staring up at star-dotted skies or at the ceiling of his tent. His name, which used to only be spoken in hushed whispers under your breath, was now known across the land. Scarred into the people who lived on it. 

He returned to his estate with blood staining his robes, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead as servants rushed out to greet him. A handful of concubines he couldn’t remember the names of stepping out to stammer greetings. 

But you weren’t there. 

Not outside. Or in the entryway. 

The bed in his chambers neatly made and markedly absent of the one person allowed to stay there when he was gone. And when he stomped across to your wing and threw open the door to your room, it was empty too. 

He sent a goddamn letter before his arrival. Everyone here had to know by now he returned home. 

Were you hiding from him? 

It wasn’t like he wanted a fucking kiss or fuck. 

But Sukuna didn’t tolerate disrespect. Couldn’t. 

For as much as he disregarded court etiquette when it came to you, he would be a fool to miss the strange tone the sparse letters you’d been sending to him had begun to take. No longer begging him to return promptly, but telling him you didn't mind his delays. That everything was fine here, no need to rush back to his throne and the woman waiting for him on it. 

If everything was fine, where the hell were you? 

He could still sense you, still feel you somewhere close, unable to discern exactly where you were. Following the faint presence of your energy, tugging it like a line until he was in the gardens. Trailing down the winding path, leaves scattering by his feet as a chill bristled over his skin until he found a little alcove that was easy to miss, your body curled up on a bench, like you were taking a nap. 

“Wake up,” he snapped, tempted to shake you awake as you sleepily rubbed your eyes and started to blink up at him. His mouth opened, ready to snarl something about you catching a cold out here like an idiot with no blanket or cover, say that you knew better, but for once in miserable existence, he was stunned into silence as his senses picked up on a second energy signature swirling around and clinging to your skin. 

No, inside of you. 

“You’re pregnant,” he accused, staring at your stomach while something unfamiliar stirred in his own. 

“It’s-” You weakly started, trying to explain, but he silenced you with only a single hand held up while you made yourself sit. Exhaustion was obvious in the rings under your eyes, your fingers shaking as you fiddled with the skirts of your robe, deliberately loose to disguise the growing bump beneath it, surely. 

He was going to behead whoever failed to inform him of this. 

The personal servant he assigned to you had to know. The chef too, if he was cooking the proper food for your new needs. And his unborn child’s. 

“Your hands work just fine,” he sneered, nose scrunching up as something inside him twisted. He never wanted an heir. Never wanted to bring another curse into this world. How many fucking times had he told himself that? But this baby was yours too. “Why did you not write to me?” 

“My lord,” you began again, but you offered no real explanation. “I-”

“You what?” He barked, brash and blunt. 

Sukuna couldn't fucking believe it. That you would do this to him. 

Not even a single letter? 

Was he not worth the truth to you? 

He expected this cowardice from the other useless creatures in his court. But you had to know-

“I wasn’t sure how you’d feel,” you admitted, looking down at his feet instead of his face. “I was scared.” 

Sukuna nearly laughed.

You were scared of him.

He supposed it was only inevitable. How much blood had you seen him shed? How many lives had he snuffed that you bore witness too? 

And now you suspected he was going to take the life of your child. His own flesh and blood, the baby that sprouted inside you, and you were sure he was going to hurt it. Did you think he was going to hurt you too? 

“Did I not make a vow to keep you safe?” He hissed, reminding you of the only oath he’d ever taken. 

Maybe you were both barely big enough to know what the weight of that would mean, but he held true to his word. Asked the world for enough strength to protect the only person who saved his life, to return the favor, although you surely regretted the childish decision now to offer a starving boy the last of your food when he'd grown up to be the man he was today. 

The first time he met you, he tried to kill you. Robbing graves and eating remains, barely scraping by when he saw you under a tree, curled up on your side and clinging to raw roots. He bit you, buried his canines in your  exposed shoulder, drawing blood while you startled awake. Your small fists whacking him as hard as you could, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you tried to fight him off. He'd been too exhausted to keep trying, huffing and letting go of you while you whined and asked him why he did that. And still, despite your wet face, the fresh wound, you still offered him your foraged meal, murmuring that he looked like he needed it more than you. He washed it down with the blood on your skin, dragging his tongue over the bite mark while you winced, tasting the salt on your face next.  

You didn't stop him. 

Started stealing more food, just enough for both of you to survive while he tried to get stronger. 

Tied together by circumstances, intertwined by some pathetic twist of fate, two parent-less children uselessly trying to take care of each other. 

But still, you were still alive, weren't you? Even when you didn't like what he had to do to ensure it. The times he had to peel the bark off trees and demand you eat it, days where you got hurt trying to defend him, forced to shake your shoulders and keep you awake, shoving down his anxiety that you’d drift off and die. 

This, too, was for your own good. 

You called him every name you could think of, weak fists hitting his back, telling him to put you down so you could talk about it, as if you hadn't tried to hide it. 

What was there to say? 

You knew as well as he did he was not a kind man. Maybe you had been made for motherhood after all, but he had not been cut from a cloth destined to be a father. 

But he had a vow to uphold. 

And you would have a thousand targets on you once word and whispers spread of what you were carrying. Whom.

Locking you up was his only option. 

The room was on the other end of the estate, one kept under careful watch by the few people who had been around long enough to know better than to cross him. 

You pounded against the door at first, protested that this wasn't fair, like anything in either of your lives has ever been. 

A servant would test your food for poison, bringing meals three meals a day while you whined about feeling like a prisoner. But your stomach started swelling with the weeks, a small bump taking shape, your hand reaching out to rub it when he came to visit or the rare occasion he spent the night. 

The anger was still blooming under his skin, silent rage burning when you frowned at him, as if he wasn't doing this for you. 

He still fucked you, pressed your body into the bedding and claimed you as his, even if it wasn't the same. Your body was changing, your words wilting as you complained about not being able to see the seasons shifting, the garden blooming, missing the weather and the warm sun. 

You had him. 

Why was that not enough?

A neighboring clan invited themselves over, forcing him to play host while he ordered everyone to stay hush about your current condition, ignoring your pleas begging to attend just one dinner, despite his irritated promise to see you afterwards. 

Except – while the festivities were still ongoing, he came to bring you food he personally selected, you had managed to sneak out, slipping past the pathetic guards, or maybe sweet talked them through a sliver of pity to allow you to walk through the garden at the worst possible time.

He stormed through, stomping as he made a mental list of men who wouldn't make it to the morning, sharp eyes scanning through the winding pathways and rose-lined trellises, searching for your energy amongst all the sorcerers here.

Bumping into a scrawny dark-haired man in the middle of the path, vaguely recognizing him as the Kamo head’s eldest son, the stupid startled expression that flashed on his face before he started stammering something about getting lost only making Sukuna scowl before he snapped at him to return to his father before he sent him to an early grave. 

He didn't give a shit if there would be retribution, if his threat would amount to something more, his throat constricting and closing at the idea of some other stranger stumbling across you first. 

Ripping down a trellis to break through the path, pushing through only to find you bent over and plucking a flower, recoiling at the sight of him when you glanced over your shoulder. 

Guilt. 

Written all over your face, in the way your mouth preemptively opened, ready to offer a weak excuse for something simply inexcusable. 

It wasn't just you that you were putting in danger. 

He dragged you back by your arm, tugging you through dimly-lit halls, your soft voice not reaching his ears even when you attempted to explain yourself. 

It was only when he slammed the door shut and let go of you in your new chambers, your kimono doing nothing to disguise the clear outline of your stomach that he paused. 

“I wish I never met you,” you whispered, pained, pulling away from him while his mouth twitched. 

“You’d be fucking dead,” he bluntly said, his dinner churning in his stomach, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. 

“Maybe I would be better off,” you spat back. 

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head as his thin tether to sanity threatened to snap. 

“You’re-”

“You're punishing me,” you pointed out, interrupting him with a finger pressed against his chest where his heart would have been. It didn't feel like he had one anymore.

Maybe he was.

“I'm leaving.” 

Why should he stay? 

You were ungrateful. Maybe some time apart would make you remember how fortunate you were to be in this position. 

Maybe going back to picking off sorcerers would burn off some of the betrayal, dull the blade of rage he felt every time he thought of this situation you were both stuck in. 

He didn’t mean to be gone so long. 

But there were battles to win, blood to be spilled. And it did make him feel better to see the bodies strewn on the ground, to climb up to the top of the world and look down on everyone else when he used to be at the bottom. 

The letter came late. Too late for him to do anything actually worth anything. His estate had been besieged. Surrounded and cut off, only able to send out this single communication from one of the few servants that slipped out during the attack. 

It seemed the Gojo’s had been waiting for the right moment to strike. 

He didn’t rush back. 

Maybe he should’ve. It wasn’t that he had confidence in the soldiers stationed there, in his own forces, but he thought he selected ones with any competence to know what to do. How to handle invaders – even if they were powerful sorcerers. 

He took his time fighting his way there, slowly sending sorcerer after sorcerer to early graves. He was the strongest after all. Would go down in history as a monster instead of a man.

Not a single wretched soul was spared. 

Although his own soldiers were picked off along the way, he kept moving. One foot in front of the others, carving a path back to you. Back to the small world he'd made for himself. 

Slashing and cleaving through them, scoffing at their bold professions of how they’d be the one to take him down. They never were. 

It began to get boring.  

Monotonous when all it took was a few moves to leave them a whimpering bloody mess on the ground. 

He figured the head of the Gojo clan would be waiting for him, probably poised and planning out some grand fight while he tried to wait out and starve everyone inside the estate. Let them grow weak enough they wouldn't be able to do anything to support Sukuna when he arrived. 

But he never expected the white-haired asshole to be sitting outside of his gates, casually leaning against it and flipping through the pages before he glanced up with blindingly blue eyes.

“Ryomen Sukuna,” the fabled six-eyes user greeted him, a casual smirk curling up on his lips as his sharp stare dragged over him. He was still covered in scrapes, mere flesh wounds, but the man just grinned brighter, tossing the book to the side and standing up. 

No servants. No guards. 

Birds falling silent and the chittering of bugs fading to the background as he stared down the only person bold enough to try and take his place by force.  

Sukuna wasn't in the fucking mood. 

He hadn't been back in months, and this was his reward? There would probably be repercussions that came with killing the Gojo brat, but he was asking for it.  

The freak didn’t even attempt to move out of the way when he sent the first slash, just taking it, but it didn’t even touch him. 

Sukuna couldn’t help but laugh, amused at the prospect of putting down someone like him. Of an actual challenge for once. 

Trading blows, dodges, gritting his teeth to push through the pain when a blow hit him only to grin when he managed to break through the technique that had been protecting his opponent, watching the cut blemish his previously clear complexion. 

“I met your wife,” he called out, not even flinching as he wiped the blood from his cheek with the back of his hand. “She was pretty. Even with the baby.” 

Sukuna saw red. Heat soaring through him, rage radiating through his veins. The fucker had to be lying. Maybe he heard of the baby through a servant he captured, but he had gotten it wrong. You weren’t his wife. Sukuna almost spat out something out that he would surely regret. That asshole didn’t need another reason to go seeking you out. To turn his attention away from Sukuna and to who was inside of the gate. 

“You just missed her,” he continued, clearly mocking him, hands moving up, about to throw another attack before Sukuna sent another cleave he expertly maneuvered away from, the gate behind him splintering from the force. 

“Shut up,” Sukuna hissed, knuckles clenching as he held them up, but his brain was faltering, failing to come up with what he needed to do when his thoughts had started to uselessly wander. 

The fun he’d felt at the start was gone. Replaced with something raw, like every movement he made was stepping on glass, shards of it stuck inside his throat as he was caught off-kilter.

“She begged, you know,” he added. “Said you'd come back for her.”

The next few seconds were a broken blur. Throwing all of his cursed energy into a move, just a little too late to realize the white-haired man across from him was doing the same. 

It was the aftermath that was clear. The slashed body cut in half in front of him, the blue eyes staring up at the mirrored sky, seeing nothing after a spoiled life of getting everything. Blessed to never know hunger or pain or suffering like him or you had. 

And still, Sukuna knew he was dying too. 

Even if he didn’t quite believe it. Couldn’t wrap his brain around the gaping hole in his side, his energy draining as he stumbled forward through the broken gate only to discover blood-soaked halls inside. 

It wasn’t a siege. It was a slaughter. 

Sukuna had done more than his share to see it for what it was. They were never trying to get his attention by holding his people hostage. They knew he didn’t care. So the clan killed them anyway. 

He wasn’t sure when he started running, how his body was even capable of moving, but he had to see it anyway. Confirm what everything in his body was telling him when he couldn’t feel you anymore. 

Your guards were gone. 

The door was cracked open, his hand impulsively shooting out to shove it the rest of the way, as if he couldn’t smell what was inside. 

But you were on the bed, curled up on your side, and he could almost believe for a second, you had been spared. He knew the truth though.

There was only death here. 

Rolling you over to see your face, black encroaching on the edges of his vision as his body threatened to give out, blood dripping from his side down to the floor, onto your bed. The light had left your eyes. Nothing else there for him to find in there except a single unspoken accusation. 

You're late. 

He didn’t have enough cursed energy to repair the damage to himself. 

But what was there left to live for anyway?

Warmth. 

Hands that didn’t quite fit in his, boney fingers clinging to his palm, too little to belong to anything except a child. For a brief moment, he thought it was yours. His. 

It couldn’t be. You were dead – and so was the baby growing inside you. It was impossible, and still, his mind betrayed him. Spawned treacherous images of a tiny thing that looked like you, annoyingly clingy and cute. 

His eyes opened, still thick with sleep, blinking slowly as he tried to discern dreams from reality. 

It wasn’t your child. 

It was you. 

Younger, your eyes still shut, lashes fluttering just slightly as he realized when this was. Where you both were. 

Back in the old village, in the husk of an abandoned home, where you slept on a makeshift bed of straw and tattered blankets he’d stolen from someone’s trash. Dirt in your hair, shivering before you snuggled closer, exhaling softly as your head rested on his chest. 

Breathing. 

What sick joke was this? 

There was nothing he’d done in his life to deserve a second chance. Was it some kind of hell to repeat his shitty life, cursed and condemned to a similar fate? 

He let go of your hand, sitting up to shake your shoulders harder than he should, watching you startle as you weakly opened your eyes. Focus slowly aimed on him as your brows scrunched together, fingers tightening and grabbing his shirt. 

“Mm, Sukuna?” You croaked, voice hoarse. 

He blinked. 

Laid back down, head throbbing as his dry mouth reminded him that he needed water. You were slow to move with him, body still heavy with exhaustion before he pulled you down again. 

“Go back to sleep,” he grunted, pressing your head back down against him. Running through the possibilities, wondering if this was just his life flashing before his eyes, a memory he’d forgotten. 

But it felt fucking real. 

You went stiff, trying to peek up at him, but his palm pressed down on your hair, refusing to let you budge. 

Had he really regressed? The clock turned back to a winter he hardly remembered?

“What’s happening?” You asked, but your words were small, muffled into his shirt. 

“I’m just tryin’ to rest,” he grunted.

Dozing off without meaning too, something about the pressure of you on him, the faintly familiar feeling of you curled on his chest dragging him into dreams. He didn’t think he’d wake up. 

But he did. 

And he was still here with you, children once more, condemned to scraping through trash and digging up graves and bugs to fill your stomach. He loathed this weak body of his. The scrawny arms and legs that could barely make it more than a few miles in a day.  

You were quieter than he remembered. 

More self-conscious, more serious, your smile not quite reaching the same spots on your face. Somehow clingier at the same time, softer with him, not arguing nearly as much anymore over who got to eat what or nagging at him for being reckless. You held on tighter to him in the evenings, pulled him closer, picking flowers you knew he couldn’t appreciate. Pressed a chaste kiss against his forehead, whispered the word friend like it was something intimate. A glimmer of adoration he didn’t deserve still glittering in your eyes. 

Would it still be there if you knew where you were both headed? 

What had happened before? How you wasted away waiting for a monster who didn’t show up in time? Died for him? 

Everything kept happening the same way it had before. You, stealing whatever food you could, narrowly avoiding getting caught and coming back to him with chilly hands and shaking limbs, affection in your words, rare laughter ringing in his ears long after it slipped from your lips. Him, struggling to get stronger, to feed the cursed energy inside him and train on a mostly empty stomach. 

He woke up once to you staring at him in the middle of night after going hunting for two days on his own with two measly fish to show for it, your fingers delicately tracing the shape of his jaw before you froze, that funny flicker of guilt in the lines of your face. 

“What are you doing?” Sukuna grumbled, unable to work up more than a weak glare. 

“Missed you,” you muttered softly, dragging your small thumb over the deformed half of him, just underneath his eyes. 

“It was only-” He started, stifling a yawn as you yanked him into you this time, your fingers sliding around to guide his head into the crook of your collarbone, despite the terrible pillow it made. 

He fell back asleep there anyway. 

 Before he realized it, a whole year passed, then two, the seasons changing and shifting, your presence a constant pull by his side, and yet, one he refused to lean on. 

Sukuna hadn’t learned his lesson. 

Rejected what the world might be trying to show him as he insisted you eat the past-ripe crop while he stuffed himself with the one thing you still refused to take so much of a bite of. You were still clinging to humanity he no longer felt any kind of connection to in his second life. 

“This place is wretched,” he muttered the next morning, shoving what few possessions he had in his sack. You were sorting through herbs you collected, not even glancing up when he spoke. Just silently stacking them, barely fucking reacting. 

He huffed, loud enough you had to look. “Hm?” 

“I’m going,” he insisted, remembering the first time you had this conversation. Where he announced that he wanted to go, wanted to leave this pitiful village and all the awful people in it. You grabbed him, whined about how dangerous it would be before caving in and clinging onto his hand as you asked to come with him. 

He had grumbled, shrugging his shoulders, letting your clumsy feet trail after him down a dirt path. 

Besides, there was no reason for him to stay here now either. 

Why bother reliving the next few years of starvation and scraping together enough for both of you to survive? 

“You’re leaving,” you echoed his sentiment, and he shoved down the uncomfortable suffocating feeling settling in his chest. 

“There’s nothing for me here,” Sukuna somberly spoke. 

You stood up, staring at him with an expression he didn’t understand. Arms folded across your chest, your lips pressed together in a thin line, ready to watch him walk away. Eyes hollow, daring him to say something else, to do something else. To not leave you alone like this. 

Why weren’t you begging to go with him? 

Tugging at his clothes and trying to convince him to take you too? 

He could ask you to. The question was on his tongue, all it would take was a couple words. To grunt out a ‘well?’ or ‘come on’ and surely, you would listen. Would rush around to collect what little things you had and chase after him. 

Sukuna’s throat was closing up, constricting tighter with every strained second of silence. 

But he didn't say anything. 

And all you had to offer was a little tilt of your head and a sad smile, swallowing hard before you said something he almost hated you for. 

“I was happy.” 

So he left like he said, stepped out and didn’t look back, scoffing under his breath once the village was out of sight that you’d come running sooner or later. Scramble to search for him, face the fact that you wouldn’t be able to survive without him. 

What the hell had you even meant? 

The only thing here was misery, curdling and coiling, trying to claw and claim his life and yours through starvation and sickness. In the scowls and stones thrown at him for simply having the misfortune of being born. What was there to even be happy about?

He pictured you huddled by a dying hearth, hands held out and shuddering, shutting down the thought before it could curse him. 

Sukuna gave it a month before you realized you made a mistake. 

You still needed him. 

It was never him that needed you. 

Getting stronger was easier when he didn’t have to look after you anywhere. Without needing to play babysitter or make sure you didn’t end up in the line of fire during fights. He fended for himself just fine. 

Time slipped by faster. 

He had more important things to focus on than the weather, redoing all those years of training with expertise from experience, forcing his body to catch up to his brain. 

Eventually, he found a companion in a child he stumbled across. A sorcerer who couldn’t quite control their potential yet, but suited his needs just fine. Could cook for him, store food too. They were far more fucking obedient than you were, listened intently when he barked orders at them. 

Uruame wasn’t you. 

But he didn’t miss you. He was fine living like this. Slaughtering without discrimination. Growing stronger far faster than he did in his last life. Avoiding the same petty mistakes that had resulted in injuries, acutely aware of the fact you weren’t there to nurse them anymore. 

Honestly, other than that, he hardly thought of you at all. 

Sometimes, he’d see you in his dreams, the older you, but rather than stuck in that small room, you were laying back in his chambers, one hand on your stomach, a lazy smile on your face while you read a book. 

Or he’d wake up in the morning, reaching out for a hand that wasn’t there. 

You probably weren’t even alive anymore. 

In an unmarked grave or tossed out in the woods. Maybe you managed to get a job as a seamstress, or found a clan or lord to work for as a servant to stave off fate without him. 

People were starting to whisper his name now, things getting thrown his way again now, fear sweeping across the land of the four-armed freak out for blood and bodies. If you wanted to find him, you certainly could. 

So really, Sukuna had no reason to return. 

Perhaps it was morbid curiosity, scratching an itch he’d been ignoring for what? Nearly ten years now? A decade had turned him from a skeleton to a curse, made more of muscle than anything else, his bulky frame far more menacing than it had been even in his last life. Well-tuned, energy coiling around him as he walked down familiar paths as he found himself standing on the outskirts of the place that had never really been home. 

It looked almost the same. 

And yet, the only thing that mattered was missing. 

The frame of the place you both used to sleep under had caved in, the thatched roof fallen into a pile of debris, the rest of the houses intact. Their inhabitants cowering inside as he prowled down the street, glaring as he felt the world still. Uruame was standing by his side, head bowed slightly down as they assessed the situation. “Would you like me to go door-to-door?” They asked. 

“Fine,” he tch-ed, shrugging his shoulders, his robes hanging loose as he walked ahead without them. There wasn’t a single trace of your energy. No sign to be found. 

An elder stepped out, aged wrinkles doing nothing to disguise the tremble in his mouth as he welcomed the monster that had been born here so long ago. 

“Ah, welcome-”

“Where is she?” He snarled before he could finish. 

“Your friend?” He feigned innocence, taking pride in his position as if it meant anything when a single sweeping motion of Sukuna’s fingers could cleave through his skull if he chose. “Ah, I believe she left, what was it? Two springs ago?” 

Tilting his head to the side, pretending this was a friendly conversation rather than his last words. 

“Left?” Sukuna repeated, scoffing at the fucking notion you would just go. 

Sukuna would search every home and rip every meager fucking foundation from the ground before he believed that you left. 

“She didn’t say where-” 

Blood was strewn against the mud wall of a home behind him, a scream ringing out from someone watching. 

This was just a waste of his fucking time.

He burned every house down. Left the village for the third time in his life in ashes, dark rain coming down as the smell of meat burned his nostrils. 

That would catch your attention, remind you that he existed if the elder had even been telling the truth. Sukuna considered the chance he was lying, that perhaps you had passed away long before he'd ever stepped foot back here on this pointless endeavor and the man had foolishly attempted to save everyone else by making up some story about you leaving. 

But you didn't show up to scold him. 

And eventually, the memory of you started to shrink. Maybe it was shoved down, forced under the surface while he focused on what he told himself was important. Defeating all the sorcerers he had so long ago, settling his score with the Gojo clan by catching them off-guard this time, razing their estate and refusing to spare so much as a single servant while the fear sparked and spread across the countryside as the cowards crawled into their shells and threw whatever they thought would satiate him out. 

But not everyone was terrified. 

The Kamo clan was just as interested in him in this life as the last, the head of it inviting him over for a proper tour of their own sprawling compounds, one Sukuna only begrudgingly accepted. 

The man was strange, stitches etched across his forehead, but he agreed with Uruame's opinion that he might be useful in the future considering his output of cursed energy, so he tolerated his presence. 

A potential future partnership. 

He loathed to think that he needed a partner at all. 

But even Sukuna had the sense to see why an ally like him might work out in his favor someday. 

Despite how much he loathed this forsaken estate. 

It was lavish, annoyingly so, traditionally designed and upholding the pillars of a lifestyle Sukuna still felt repugnance towards. 

His partner refused to shut up, insisting they continue this irritatingly long conversation through their gardens, Uruame dutifully opening the door and taking notes for Sukuna as he nodded along to whatever he was spewing now. 

Sprawling flower beds and arches adorned with roses, studying thorny stems wrapped around the trellis, a strange urge tempting him to pluck one. A faint memory started to float up, a name that plagued his dreams, but then he heard something he’d almost forgotten. 

A pretty laugh. Soft and sweet. 

A dessert he hadn’t tasted in so long, the taste was lost on him. 

But he recognized it instantly. 

He tried to ignore it. Focus on the boring political spiel he came here for, to shove it down, telling himself it had to be his imagination. A fractured remnant, dug up by these stupid fragrant flowers. 

Until he felt it. 

Sensed your presence, his head snapping in that direction to spot a picnic blanket spread out on the bank past a small koi pond. You were here. You were happier. 

Dressed in silk robes, smiling as you popped a strawberry in your parted lips, the juice dripping down the corner of your mouth. A thumb reached out, dragging over it to keep you clean, and he repressed a sudden surge of pure rage. 

Anger simmering at someone touching you like that, daring to put their filthy hands on what was his, his seething stare shifting to see some dark-haired man, a black tattoo stretching across the slope of his nose, brown eyes only focused on you. 

He knew that face, even if it was just a distant image of a night he'd rather forget. The night you snuck out, the one from the gardens before he found you. 

Kamo noticed his stare, chucking softly. 

“That’s my son, Choso, and his fiancée,” Kamo informed him, nodding towards the two of you. “Would you like to meet-”

“No,” he interrupted, scowling at you playing house. 

So this was where you found yourself?

Cozying up to the Kamo clan to secure a future for yourself? Instead of choosing him? 

He wanted to laugh. Actually, he wanted to murder that runt, and then-

“He’s actually a few years older than you, but I doubt…” Kamo continued, and Sukuna felt one of his fists reflexively start to take the shape to send a slash his way, only quelled by that annoyingly bright giggle of yours as he brushed a finger over your lips. You fucking licked it. Running your tongue over his knuckle, reaching up to grab his hand and hold it there. 

You left him for this? 

Walked away from him to become the next womb for the fucking Kamo clan? 

Too enraged to even realize he was the one who left you, all his muscles too tight, too tense, cursed energy flaring up as he fought to keep it under control here. 

“Are you alright?” Kamo carefully asked, brows knitted together as Sukuna’s jaw flexed tight.

“Yes,” he managed a one-word reply, turning his head away from you. 

Were you pretending he didn’t exist now? Was he a chapter in your story that you were choosing to forget? 

His focus had shattered. 

Fractured into something he couldn’t scrape together, his thoughts lingering on that infuriating expression of yours. For once, he was stuck on what to do. A possessive thing inside him curdling and demanding he take you back here and now, cut off every damn digit that had touched you.

But the splintered remnants of his reason reminded him that he was supposed to be here to form an ally. 

Which probably wouldn’t appreciate him snatching his heir’s bride.

It made Sukuna fucking sick to think of you as another man’s wife. 

One of Kamo’s assistants scurried up, bowing his head deeply before muttering something to his master. His face scrunched up, and he shook his head before looking up at Sukuna apologetically, “Would you excuse me for a few minutes?” 

Sukuna only tch-ed, waving his hand as he glanced around the suddenly suffocating arched walkway of the garden. 

“Feel free to look around as you please,” he politely said, but he didn’t miss the cruel glint in his eyes before he walked away. The look of a man who knew too much. Bored enough to enjoy other people’s misery. 

Sukuna tried to walk away. 

To continue down this path he’d picked, to push you and your pretty laughter back out of his mind. But it curved in on itself, and here it was again. There you were.

He couldn’t stop himself from looking. 

You were sprawled out, hair in the grass, giggling happily at the boy in front of you. Sukuna thought he’d seen every expression of yours. Sad, starving, smiling, he was sure he’d known all of you. 

But you never looked at him like that. 

So free.

Unburdened, unbridled by what, exactly? Him? 

“You’re beautiful,” you murmured to your groom, grinning as he gripped your legs and hooked them around his waist. Your robes mused, pushed up to reveal plush thighs, soft skin that still made his mouth water, spit pooling in the back of his throat as this fool failed to appreciate-

“I could live a thousand years and I would trade them all just for this moment to last,” he spoke quietly, his chest rising and falling too fast, like he had to hurry to get the words out. Assured, the kind of certain Sukuna wasn’t sure he ever gave you. 

“Would you?” You teased, one corner of your lips curling up higher than the other, clearly past pleased. 

The man, this Choso of yours, nodded, acting like a loyal knight as he craned his neck down to kiss the tip of your nose. You wrapped your wrists around his neck like he was some missing puzzle piece, fiddling with the ends of his hair as you sighed with contentment. 

“Tell me more,” you requested. 

Sukuna didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to hear this poor excuse of poetry and confessions as he watched from the sidelines like some sick voyeur, all four eyes stuck on the familiar curves of your body as your betrothed shoved your clothes to the side to shove himself in you. 

Could it even be considered fucking? 

All slow and tender, treating you like some fragile thing that might break, rocking his hips against your body as you dug your heels into his back. Kissing your mouth instead of sucking on your tits, caressing your exposed skin rather than holding you down. 

And yet, you were making more sounds with him than you did with Sukuna, tiny whimpers that hung in the air, moans that ended up muffled in that bastard’s mouth. Writhing and wiggling your hips like he wasn’t an amateur. 

“I would do anything for you,” he whispered, and Sukuna nearly snorted, sure that he had no idea what anything really meant. Would he starve for you? Kill for you? How far would he go just to call you his? Because right now, Sukuna was considering stomping over and cleaving him into his next meal to make sure he’d never be able to see you again, and he was fairly certain that your Choso couldn’t say the same. 

“All I want,” you purred, eyes opening slowly and fluttering, flooded with pleasure Sukuna unfortunately had to face he did miss. “Is for you to stay with me.” 

You didn’t even know Sukuna was there, and yet it still stung. 

Felt like an arrow aimed directly at his heart. 

“Of course,” Choso answered easily, head bobbing, dark strands hanging down as his next thrust left you tossing your head back. 

Sukuna would do anything for you. But he just couldn’t get himself to be there. “I love you,” he moaned, rutting harder, even faster, your thighs locking him into place as you giggled at his expression. Sukuna stalled, staring uselessly at the moron’s cock drunk confession.

“I love you too,” you sweetly whispered back, brushing his hair back from his face. 

He had to step away before he saw anything else. 

Before he got to watch the man cum inside you the way he used to, before he made another decision that would destroy his life – and yours.

Sukuna didn’t know peace. He never had any to offer you. 

When he stepped back, he had the misfortune of stepping on a tiny twig, as if his afternoon wasn’t awful enough. 

Your head snapped up first, your eyes locking onto his, and he saw the recognition before the guilt. How you held your breath, the light dissipating from that warmth you radiated as if his shadows swallowed you whole. 

And he didn’t know what gave it away, what little detail in your face did it, but he realized something he failed to fucking notice for far too long. 

This had never been his second chance. This was yours.

He had never deserved it. Or you. 

You knew it too. 

The universe tried to spare you, and he got tangled up in it. Your soul and his were still tied together even when the world attempted to give you a new life. 

And he was the fool that walked away from you.

Before the thought can even finish forming, his body jolts upright as adrenaline floods his veins, snapping him awake faster than his mind can catch up. The sharp thud of his heart feels almost ridiculous in the silence, but the apartment is so quiet that it only makes every instinct louder.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he pushes himself up, rakes a hand through his hair, and steps into the hallway, every muscle tense, ears straining for the faintest sound.

Nothing.

Moving down the hallway without hesitation, he checks the bathroom, even though the darkness behind the door already tells him you aren’t there.

The living room is empty, the couch looks exactly the same as earlier that night, with your blanket still tossed carelessly over the armrest where you left it. Maybe you slipped out onto the balcony, but the curtains hang motionless and the glass door is sealed tight. The pressure in his chest ratchets up another notch, and he moves through the flat faster now.

The last remnants of sleep are completely gone when each room confirms the same thing over and over again: you aren’t there. Each feeds the growing, irrational fear that something has happened while he slept, and by the time he reaches the kitchen, his breathing is shallow, his jaw clenches, and his hands ball into tight fists at his sides.

And then he stops.

The kitchen is bathed in dim light, just the gentle glow from the stove clock and a faint spill of streetlight through the window, enough to outline you standing barefoot by the counter. One hand holds a glass of water, the other strokes absently over Mikan’s back as the cat perches on a high chair, leaning into your touch and purring like nothing in the world could ever be wrong.

You look half-asleep yourself, hair a little messy, the hem of his shirt brushing your thighs, eyes soft and unfocused the way they get when you wake just enough to wander to the bathroom before crawling back to bed.

For a long moment, Sukuna stands frozen in the doorway, breath caught somewhere between relief and anger, adrenaline still pulsing through his veins. The sight of you, safe, slams into the fear he’s been carrying, heavy and real as anything.

Your head lifts when you notice him.

“What the hell are you doing?” The words come out sharper than he means, still edged with the panic that hasn’t left his body yet.

Confusion flickers across your face at his tone, and you blink at him, like you’ve only just remembered there’s a world beyond the counter and the purring cat pressed against your palm.

“Drinking water,” you answer quietly, your voice rough with sleep, lifting the glass slightly in explanation, like the answer should be obvious. Then, softer, as the reason for him standing there at four in the morning, staring at you like that, finally clicks, you add, “I didn’t want to wake you.”

Something in his chest finally gives, and the tension snaps all at once. Muttering a curse that barely makes it past his teeth, he walks over and catches your arm before you can get another word out, tugging you into him so abruptly that the water in your glass nearly spills over the rim. Only then does he let out a shaky breath he’s been holding since the moment he woke up.

His voice rumbles low and rough, words muffled by your hair as he pulls you tight against his chest. “You scared the shit outta me.”

His grip tightens for a heartbeat before easing. One hand slides up, fingers threading through the hair at the nape of your neck, while the other stays splayed warm and steady across your lower back. Caught off guard by the sudden intensity, you let your free hand find its way to his side, settling there gently.

“I’m sorry.” It slips out before you can stop it, even though you know you haven’t done anything wrong. Tilting your head back to meet his eyes, you find his stare heavy with something that makes it clear that he doesn’t want you apologizing for this, not ever. Nuzzling your cheek into his chest, you feel the frantic thud of his heartbeat beneath your ear. “I was only gone a minute,” you add softly, a little sheepish.

Sukuna huffs softly, and the short, weary sound carries more relief than frustration, but his arms stay locked around you, unyielding, as if letting go might let the fear slip back in.

“I know,” he mutters eventually, almost to himself, the edge of panic fading away. “I know that.”

For a few seconds, neither of you moves. The kitchen is quiet except for the slow, steady thud of Sukuna’s heartbeat finally calming beneath your cheek, and the impatient purring of Mikan weaving around your ankles, as if he’s been personally wronged by all this drama.

Then, he slips the glass from your hand and sets it on the counter, his other arm settling around your shoulders, steering you gently toward the bedroom, unwilling to let even an inch of distance creep in.

“Come on,” he murmurs, and you don’t argue.

Sleep tugs at you again, heavy and insistent, and as you sink back onto the mattress, your body leans instinctively toward his warmth. Sukuna wraps himself around you, pressing his chest firmly against your back and banding one arm tight across your waist, his hand splayed over your stomach. The other slips beneath your pillow, fingers searching until they find yours and tangle together.

Now that you’re back exactly where you should be, Sukuna lets out a slow, quiet exhale as the last traces of restless adrenaline finally drain from his chest.