Brother's Best Friend!simon Riley Is A Man You Shouldn't Like

Spicy Curry (Bakugou Katsuki x F!Reader) Chapter 7

Summary: Pro-hero DynaMight hides his developing hearing loss from the public. He doesn’t want them or the villains to know about what he considers his only weakness. His family knows. His best friends know. And now you, the owner of his favorite little curry shop, know. You want to live a quiet life & to protect your son. The last thing you want is to draw attention to yourself. You hide your identity, you hide your scars, and you hide your quirk. And then Bakugou, Katsuki walks in one day with dried blood on his ears, and you can’t help but help him.

🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤

Parts:  1  |  2  |  3 | 4 | 5  |  6  | 7 | ? ? ?

🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤

Content Warning: This fic will contain mentions of past abuse from a “partner”, including sexual assault.

The bell above the door chimed as Katsuki and Kouichi entered the shop, the familiar scent of curry spices wrapping around them like a welcome. But instead of the usual calm atmosphere, they walked into controlled chaos. Nearly every stool at the counter was occupied, customers' chopsticks clicking against bowls as steam rose in fragrant clouds from their curry. Only two seats remained open in the far corner, tucked away from the main bustle. The tiny kitchen behind the counter was alive with motion as you moved between multiple pots, your hair escaping its neat bun in wisps that clung to your damp forehead.

The sight of you like this made something twist in Katsuki's chest. He'd grown used to seeing you in quieter moments, when the shop felt like a sanctuary from the world outside. Now, watching you navigate the cramped space with practiced efficiency, he found himself studying the fluid grace of your movements, the way you anticipated each customer's needs before they spoke, how naturally you maintained your composure even as chaos swirled around you. It reminded him, oddly enough, of watching seasoned pros work a crisis - that same economy of motion, that instinct born from years of experience.

Kouichi immediately bounced toward the counter, waving his hands to catch your attention, his small body practically vibrating with excitement. When you didn't look up, focused on a pot threatening to boil over, he tapped the counter rhythmically - your agreed-upon signal when he needed you urgently.

You glanced up, and Katsuki caught the flash of relief in your eyes at seeing them safe. But your attention was immediately pulled away by the overflowing pot. "Just a minute, baby," you signed quickly, one-handed while adjusting the heat. A customer at the far end raised his empty glass, and you moved to refill it, narrowly avoiding collision with another patron reaching for napkins.

The dinner rush had clearly hit harder than usual. Katsuki's enhanced observation skills, honed through years of hero work, picked up the subtle signs of strain – the slight tremor in your hands as you ladled curry, the way your shoulders tensed with each new demand for attention, the tight lines around your mouth that spoke of exhaustion you were trying to hide.

Kouichi's hands moved in increasingly larger gestures, determined to share his triumph. His signing became bigger, more emphatic: "Mom! I controlled the heat! I made a rock warm but not too hot and—" His fingers shaped each sign with perfect clarity, unconsciously demonstrating the control he'd learned that afternoon.

Your hands stilled for just a moment, genuine pride breaking through the stress. "That's amazing, sweetheart," you signed, love and pride shining through despite your exhaustion. But your response was cut short by a customer calling out their order. "I want to hear all about it, just... give me a little time, okay?"

Kouichi's face fell slightly, though he tried to hide it. His small hands dropped to his sides, the excitement dimming in his eyes like a candle being slowly extinguished. Kouichi's dimming enthusiasm hit Katsuki harder than he expected, like a punch he wasn't braced to receive.

"Oi," he signed to Kouichi, getting the boy's attention. "Let's sit down," he directed, guiding him toward the only empty seats at the counter's far end. The simple gesture was a quiet reminder that someone was still paying attention to him, still saw him through the chaos of the busy shop.

Kouichi nodded eagerly, settling onto the stool. You hurried past with two steaming bowls of curry, offering a quick glance that somehow conveyed both warmth and apology. Your movements stayed precise despite the obvious fatigue in your shoulders, each step measured as you navigated the crowded space.

"I'll get your food as soon as I can," you signed between packing orders, but three more customers walked in, the bell's cheerful chime feeling almost mocking now. Each new arrival seemed to add another weight to your shoulders, though you moved through the chaos with practiced grace, your movements precise despite your obvious fatigue.

He watched as you juggled multiple orders, your usual grace starting to fray at the edges. When you nearly dropped a bowl, catching it just in time but splashing curry sauce on your apron, he saw real strain flash across your face before you buried it beneath a professional smile. Something in that glimpse of vulnerability made him shift forward in his seat, his body moving before his mind could catch up.

Once Katsuki and Kouichi finally got their food, Kouichi pulled out his remaining schoolwork. The workbook was slightly scorched around the edges, evidence of this morning's frustration, but he attacked it with a determination that reminded Katsuki of himself.

"Mom?" Kouichi's hands moved in question, drawing your attention from where you were recording takeout orders. "What does this word mean?"

You glanced at the workbook, starting to explain, but another customer's voice cut through the din. Your explanation faltered as you tried to split your focus, signing with one hand while reaching for clean bowls with the other. The strain of trying to be everything for everyone showed in the slight trembling of your fingers, in the way you bit your lip in concentration.

"Mom?" Kouichi tried again moments later, pointing to a different problem. Each time you started to help, something else demanded attention – a new order, a spill that needed cleaning, customers requesting their bills. The constant interruptions were wearing you down, though you tried to hide it behind efficient movements and professional smiles.

Katsuki saw the moment it all became too much. Your hands trembled slightly as you stirred a pot of curry, your eyes darting between Kouichi's hopeful face and the growing stack of orders. The careful balance you usually maintained between mother and shop owner was cracking, and something protective surged in his chest at the sight. He recognized the look in your eyes – the same desperate determination he felt when trying to prove he could handle everything alone, even as the world kept demanding more.

The next time Kouichi raised his hands to ask a question, Katsuki shifted closer without conscious thought. The movement was natural, automatic - like adjusting his stance in a fight or reaching for support gear during patrol. Without a word, he angled himself to see the workbook better, as if helping with homework was something he did every day. Kouichi looked up in surprise as Katsuki's shadow fell across his paper.

"Show me what you're working on," Katsuki signed.

Kouichi pointed to a science worksheet about plant growth cycles. His small finger traced the confusing sequence of illustrations. "I don't understand which comes first," he signed, frustration evident in his furrowed brow.

Katsuki studied the page for a moment, his mind already breaking down the concept into manageable pieces. Years of analyzing quirk mechanics and battle strategies had honed his ability to explain complex ideas simply.

"Think about making curry," Katsuki signed. "What comes first?" 

Kouichi's eyes lit up at the familiar comparison. "Getting ingredients!"

"Right. Just like we need ingredients for curry, a plant needs ingredients to grow." His hands shaped each concept with careful precision. "The seed is like the first ingredient. It needs water and soil, just like curry needs water and spices."

You glanced over while measuring out rice, catching sight of them bent together over the workbook. The sight of Katsuki bent over the workbook with Kouichi, his usual intensity softened, stirred something quiet and unexpected within you.His crimson eyes were focused intently on Kouichi's face, watching to make sure the boy followed each explanation.

A customer called for a refill, pulling your attention away, but your eyes kept drifting back to them between orders. Katsuki's hands moved with surprising patience as he explained each stage of plant growth, relating it to things Kouichi understood from the kitchen. The boy's face glowed with comprehension as concepts that had seemed impossible suddenly made sense.

"See? Just like how curry needs time to simmer, plants need time to grow." Katsuki's signs flowed more smoothly now, his initial awkwardness forgotten in the focus of teaching. "Each stage is important, just like each step in cooking."

A bittersweet tenderness washed over you as you observed them working together– Kouichi's hands flying with enthusiasm as he finally grasped the concept, his expressions matching Katsuki's determined focus. There was something achingly natural about how they fit together, how Katsuki's usual sharp edges softened as he broke down complex ideas into pieces Kouichi could understand. 

Between serving bowls of curry and recording orders, you couldn't help noticing how competent Katsuki was with Kouichi. He didn't oversimplify or talk down to him, but explained things clearly and expected understanding. It was the same approach you'd always used – treating Kouichi's questions with respect while making sure the answers were accessible.

"Mom, look!" Kouichi's excited signing caught your attention as you passed with a tray of empty dishes. "I understand it now!" He held up his completed worksheet, pride shining in his dark eyes.

You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest at his excitement. "That's wonderful, baby," you signed quickly before turning to deliver another order. You couldn't help watching them between orders—how quickly they'd fallen into step together, how your son straightened whenever Katsuki acknowledged his progress.

Stop it, you scolded yourself, tearing your gaze away. This isn't permanent. He's only here because he's on medical leave. Once he's cleared to return to hero work, he'll have more important things to do than help with homework.

But watching him guide Kouichi through another problem, his hands moving with growing confidence through signs he must have practiced when no one was watching...it was hard to remember why you were supposed to keep your distance. Hard not to imagine more evenings like this, hard not to want this to be more than temporary.

Don't read into it, you told yourself firmly. He's just being kind. He's probably like this with all kids – he's a hero, after all. It doesn't mean anything.

The evening stretched on, full of these dangerous moments – glimpses of what could be, if you were brave enough to want it. If you were whole enough to deserve it. If the world was kind enough to let you keep it.

The last customers finally filtered out, leaving behind a scatter of empty bowls and the lingering scent of curry that permeated everything. Quiet settled over the shop like a heavy blanket, broken only by the soft clink of dishes and the gentle hum of the refrigerator. You moved behind the counter with mechanical efficiency, muscle memory carrying you through motions you'd performed thousands of times before. Your hands trembled slightly as you stacked bowls from the counter's edge, fatigue settling deep in your bones after hours of non-stop movement.

Kouichi had dozed off at the counter, his small face peaceful against his folded arms, schoolwork spread out beneath him. The sight made your chest ache – he should be in bed, not falling asleep in the shop because you couldn't manage to balance everything properly. But there had been so many customers, so many demands on your attention, and Katsuki had been there helping with homework, and somehow time had slipped away from you like water through cupped hands.

Katsuki watched you from his spot at the counter, crimson eyes tracking your path through the small space. You'd been in constant motion since they'd arrived, always reaching, lifting, serving – but he hadn't seen you take a single proper bite of food. Even now, exhaustion clear in every line of your body, you kept pushing forward with that quiet determination that made his chest tight. It reminded him too much of himself, that stubborn refusal to show weakness, to admit when things were becoming too much.

"Oi," he called out. You immediately looked up from your cleaning. His hands moved with a steadiness that hadn't been there days ago. "You've been running around feeding everyone else all day. When was the last time you actually ate something yourself?"

Your hands stilled on the bowl you were reaching for, surprise flickering across your face before you could hide it. The question caught you off guard – when was the last time you'd eaten? You'd had... something, surely. There had been that half-finished bowl of rice this morning, and you'd tested the curry batch for seasoning, and...

"I eat plenty," you signed back, the defensive gesture betrayed by how you wouldn't quite meet his eyes. Your stomach chose that moment to protest loudly, making heat crawl up your neck.

"Bullshit." He stood, moving around the counter with purposeful strides. There was something almost predatory in his grace, the way he commanded space even in this simple movement. "You had lunch with us earlier, sure, but that was hours ago. Since then, all you've had is whatever you can grab between customers. Call that eating if you want, but we both know it's not."

The observation struck deeper than it should have. You were used to running on empty, used to putting everyone else's needs before your own. It had become such a habit you barely noticed anymore – there was always another customer to serve, another task that needed attention, another reason to postpone taking care of yourself.

"I'm fine," you signed, movements sharp with embarrassment. "There's still cleaning to do." The excuse sounded weak even to your own ears, but old habits died hard. Taking care of yourself had always seemed like a luxury you couldn't afford, not when there were bills to pay and a child to raise.

But Katsuki was already taking the stack of bowls from your hands, his movements leaving no room for argument. His fingers brushed yours in the exchange, callused and warm, and you tried to ignore how that simple contact sent electricity skittering across your skin.

"Sit," he signed after setting them aside, pointing firmly at the counter stool. "I'll handle this."

"I don't need—" you started to protest, but he cut you off with a look that could have melted steel. The intensity in his crimson eyes made your breath catch, not from intimidation but from the genuine concern you saw lurking beneath his scowl.

"You're about to fall over," he signed, his movements gentler than his expression would suggest. "Let someone else take care of things for once."

"I can't just—" you tried again, but your hands were trembling now for reasons that had nothing to do with exhaustion. The words died in your hands as you caught his expression – not pity, which you couldn't have borne, but something closer to understanding.

"Yes, you can." His signs were firm but carried an undertone of something that might have been concern. You recognized the look in his eyes – the same one you wore when Kouichi pushed himself too hard, when he insisted he was fine even though you could see him struggling. "Now sit before you collapse and give me more shit to clean up."

A laugh escaped before you could stop it, surprised and a little watery. Katsuki's eyes softened at the sound, his usual scowl melting into something gentler that made your heart skip. Something about seeing DynaMight standing in your tiny kitchen made all your careful defenses start to crack. You found yourself sinking onto the stool he'd indicated, your body yielding to his demand before your mind could formulate any further protest.

The sight of him moving through your space with such natural familiarity made your heart do complicated things in your chest. He navigated between counter and stove as if he'd memorized every inch, his powerful hands handling your worn dishes with unexpected care. A bowl appeared in front of you, steam rising in fragrant clouds. You hadn't even noticed him preparing it, too mesmerized by the sight of someone else moving with purpose through the kitchen you'd always tended to alone.

"Eat," he signed without looking up from the sink, but you caught the slight pink tinge to his ears that betrayed his gruff exterior. “You're no good to anyone if you keep pushing yourself like this.”

The warmth that bloomed in your chest had nothing to do with the curry and everything to do with how naturally he'd claimed his place in your world. As if he belonged here, in your tiny shop with its worn counters and familiar rhythms. As if taking care of you was something he'd always done.

The warm curry filled your mouth, rich flavors spreading across your tongue—the first proper meal you'd had since dawn. You noticed his gaze flicking toward you as you ate, a quick, concerned glance that he tried to disguise as casual. Something softened in your chest at his unspoken attentiveness. There was something comforting about someone caring enough to watch over you.

The comfortable silence stretched between you, broken only by the soft splash of dishes in the sink and Kouichi's gentle breathing from his corner. The evening light painted everything in soft gold, catching in Katsuki's ash-blonde hair and making him look softer somehow. You watched his hands move through the familiar motions of cleaning – the same hands that created devastating explosions in battle now carefully washing your dishes, treating your worn bowls with a gentleness that made your throat tight. He moved through your kitchen like he knew where everything belonged, and maybe he did. Maybe he'd been paying attention all this time, learning your rhythms, finding his place in this small world you'd built.

The clock on the wall ticked past ten, far later than you'd realized. The day's exhaustion settled deeper into your bones as the adrenaline of the dinner rush finally faded completely. You stifled a yawn, gathering your empty bowl to bring to the sink, but Katsuki wordlessly took it from you with a look that brooked no argument. 

You moved to wake Kouichi, your hands already reaching toward his shoulder, when Katsuki's warm fingers wrapped gently around your wrist. The contact sent electricity skittering across your skin, but his touch was careful, almost hesitant, as if he was afraid of startling you.

"Don't wake him," he signed one-handed, his other hand still holding your wrist with surprising gentleness. His expression softened as he looked at Kouichi, something protective flickering in his crimson eyes. "I'll carry him. Just show me where."

The offer caught you off guard, a flutter of warmth spreading through you. You hesitated, old instincts warring with the trust that had been building between you. Letting someone else carry your sleeping child, letting them into your private space above the shop – it went against years of careful boundaries, of keeping everyone at arm's length.

But this was Katsuki, who had spent the evening teaching your son with endless patience. Katsuki, who noticed when you weren't eating and made sure you took care of yourself. Katsuki, who had already crossed so many of your carefully constructed barriers without ever making you feel unsafe.

Your nod came after a moment's hesitation. His hand fell away from your wrist, leaving your skin tingling from the brief contact. He picked up Kouichi with surprising care, his movements quiet and efficient. Your son barely stirred as Katsuki lifted him, small body relaxing naturally against his chest as if he'd done this a hundred times before. 

You led the way up the narrow stairs to your apartment, each creaking step familiar beneath your feet. The stairwell was tight, forcing you to walk close enough to feel the heat radiating from Katsuki's body behind you.

The door opened into your small living room, warm light spilling from the lamp you always left on. It wasn't much – just a modest two-bedroom unit above the shop – but you'd poured everything you had into making it feel like home. Kouichi's artwork covered the walls, each piece carefully framed as if it belonged in a gallery. A collection of his origami creatures marched along a bookshelf, arranged by color – something he'd done himself one afternoon when you were teaching him about organization.

You watched Katsuki take it all in, suddenly seeing your space through his eyes. The well-worn couch with its carefully patched cushions, evidence of years of stretching resources. Kouichi's finger painting of a colorful mountain sat drying on the coffee table, surrounded by newspaper spread out to protect the surface. Everything in its place, everything serving a purpose, everything chosen with careful consideration of limited means.

His gaze lingered on the family photos dotting the walls, telling the story of your life with Kouichi in captured moments. You watched his eyes catch on one from the hospital – you looked so young, so exhausted but triumphant, cradling your newborn son. Another showed Kouichi's first day of preschool, his smile bright despite the uncertainty you remembered him feeling. Each image carefully chosen to show only joy, no hints of the struggles that lay beneath the surface.

Books filled every available space – sign language dictionaries dog-eared from constant use, parenting guides marked with sticky notes, and well-worn cookbooks. They showed how you'd taught yourself to be everything Kouichi needed, learning through determination what most people had help to figure out.

Something shifted in Katsuki's expression as he absorbed it all. His eyes caught on the height measurements marked on the kitchen door frame, each line dated and decorated with small stars. 

The intimacy of having him here, seeing these private markers of your life with Kouichi, made your chest tight. YHe wasn't just seeing your apartment - he was seeing the life you and Kouichi had built together. His careful handling of Kouichi, the way he took in every detail without judgment, made something warm unfurl in your chest despite your usual caution.

You moved ahead into Kouichi's room, turning down the covers of his bed decorated with hero-print sheets – a special find from a secondhand store that had made his whole face light up. The walls here were his gallery, covered in crayon drawings of heroes in action. But it was the sheer number featuring Dynamight that caught your attention now – explosive quirk rendered in bright oranges and reds, each one capturing that fierce determination Kouichi so admired.

Katsuki's steps faltered as he noticed them, something soft and surprised flickering across his face. You watched him take in the evidence of how long he'd been Kouichi's favorite hero, long before he ever stepped foot in your shop. His eyes lingered on one drawing in particular – Dynamight standing protectively in front of a smaller figure with dark hair, flames dancing around them both. The date in the corner was from just after Kouichi's quirk manifested.

Katsuki carefully eased Kouichi onto the bed, his hands moving with such precision that the covers barely shifted. Your son snuggled into his familiar spot, one hand automatically reaching for the worn All Might plush that had been his constant companion since infancy. Together, you stood watching him sleep, his small face peaceful in the gentle glow of his nightlight. 

Your hands moved in the dim light, forming a simple "thank you" that encompassed far more than just carrying him upstairs. But your fingers trembled slightly, betraying how much it meant to have someone else here, someone who saw all your careful defenses and chose to be gentle with them.

Katsuki's eyes met yours with quiet intensity, crimson softened to burgundy in the low light. He understood – you weren't just thanking him for tonight, but for everything: for teaching Kouichi with endless patience, for seeing your struggles without making you feel weak, for treating your trust as the precious thing it was. For making your careful world feel less lonely without ever making you feel like you weren't enough on your own.

Stepping out of Kouichi's room, you found yourself suddenly aware of how narrow the hallway was, barely wide enough for two people to pass. The dim light from the living room cast long shadows, softening Katsuki's usually sharp features into something almost gentle. He stood close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, your shoulder nearly brushing his chest in the confined space. The familiar scent of caramel and smoke that always clung to him mixed with the gentle aroma of curry that permeated your home, creating something new and intoxicating that made your heart beat faster.

You should have stepped away. Should have maintained the careful distance you always kept between yourself and others. But something about having him here, in this private space where you only ever let Kouichi exist, made all your usual defenses feel paper-thin.

"Would you like some tea?" you signed, the offer slipping out before you could second-guess it. "As a thank you." The words felt inadequate against everything he'd done tonight.

His eyes met yours in the half-light, their crimson hue deepened by the shadows. For a moment, he seemed to be weighing something behind that intense gaze. You found yourself holding your breath, though you couldn't have said why. The air between you felt charged, like the moment before lightning strikes.

"Yeah," he finally signed. "Tea would be good." Such simple words, and yet they carried the weight of crossing another boundary - from helper to guest, from Kouichi's mentor to something less easily defined.

You led him to your small kitchen, hyper aware of his presence behind you. The space felt different with him in it. You'd never noticed how small your kitchen was until his broad shoulders filled the doorway, until his presence made every movement feel like a delicate dance of almost-touching.

You busied yourself with the kettle, grateful for the routine tasks that gave your hands something to do. The familiar motions helped ground you - measuring tea leaves, heating water, reaching for mugs. 

"Kouichi did well today," Katsuki signed once you were both seated at your small kitchen table, steam rising from the mugs between you. His movements had grown more fluid with practice, each sign shaped with the same precision he brought to everything he did. "He's got good instincts. Just needs confidence."

The genuine pride in his expression reminded you exactly why you were finding it increasingly difficult to keep your guard up around him.

"He was so excited about today he could hardly focus on anything else," you signed, a smile touching your lips. "I haven't seen him this enthusiastic about learning in a long time." The admission carried more weight than you'd intended - hints of Kouichi's struggles at school, of the isolation that came with being different.

Katsuki's eyes drifted to a photo on your refrigerator - you and Kouichi in the hospital, his tiny face scrunched and red against your chest. The sight of him studying that particular moment made your heart skip. That photo captured both the best and worst day of your life - the joy of holding your son tempered by the bone-deep exhaustion of running, of knowing you weren't safe even in the hospital.

"He was early, wasn't he?" The observation caught you off guard. Trust Katsuki to notice what most people missed.

"How could you tell?" 

"The monitoring equipment in the background," he signed, gesturing toward the photo. 

You nodded slowly, choosing your words carefully. "Six weeks early. We were in the hospital for a while, but he was strong." The simplified version of events felt hollow in your mouth, omitting the fear and exhaustion of those days, the constant looking over your shoulder even in the hospital. You didn't mention the cheap motels before that, the careful planning of your escape, the way you'd rationed food to save money for medical care you knew you'd need.

Something flickered in Katsuki's expression - recognition, perhaps, of the gaps in your story. You saw the questions form and die in his eyes, saw him choose not to push. Instead, he reached for the honey jar at the same moment you did. Your fingers brushed, sending electricity skittering across your skin. You both pulled back quickly, but the ghost of his touch lingered, warm and dangerous.

His attention returned to the photograph, his expression unreadable as his eyes traced over the image. "Can see where he gets that determination from," he signed, his gaze lifting to meet yours for just a moment before glancing away. 

Heat crept up your neck at the unexpected compliment, at the way his gaze moved from the photo to your face with careful consideration. 

"You notice a lot," you signed, trying to keep your movements casual despite your racing heart. The words felt inadequate against the weight of everything he seemed to understand without being told.

"Hard not to," he signed back, something in his expression making your breath catch. 

The implications of that statement hung in the air between you. The soft kitchen light cast a warm glow over his ash-blonde hair, and you noticed how his expression had gentled, the usual hard lines of his face relaxed. Your heart skipped a beat despite your best efforts to remain composed. He looked right somehow, sitting at your small kitchen table with his calloused hands curved around the mug you'd bought at a secondhand store. Like he belonged here.

A comfortable silence settled between you. The gentle steam from your mugs curled upward in the quiet kitchen, and you found yourself relaxing into the moment, your usual vigilance softening at the edges. The exhaustion of the day caught up with you all at once, and before you could stop it, a yawn escaped, your hand flying up too late to cover it.

Katsuki's eyes flickered to you immediately, that sharp observation that missed nothing softening with something that might have been concern.

"You're tired," he signed, his movements gentle in the warm kitchen light. There was no judgment in his expression, just that quiet attentiveness that seemed to catch everything.

"Long day," you admitted, embarrassed at being caught but too tired to properly hide it. Another yawn threatened, and this time you didn't bother fighting it.

"I should go," he signed decisively, setting his mug down with careful precision. "You need rest."

Despite your fatigue, you felt a flicker of disappointment that surprised you with its intensity. You'd grown so used to keeping people at a distance that the reluctance to see him leave felt foreign, almost dangerous.

"It's okay," you signed, even as you suppressed another yawn.

He snorted softly. "You can barely keep your eyes open."

Before you could protest, he was standing, collecting both your mugs and placing them in the sink. The simple consideration of it—that he wouldn't leave you with more to clean—was becoming a pattern you couldn't help but appreciate.

"Come on," he signed once he'd turned back to you. "I'll head out so you can get some sleep."

The wooden stairs creaked softly under your feet as you followed Katsuki down to the shop entrance. Shadows pooled in the corners, broken only by the gentle glow of streetlights filtering through the front windows, painting everything in shades of gold and shadow. Your small shop, usually so comfortable in its limitations, felt different at this hour. The counter where you'd served countless bowls of curry, the worn wooden floors that had supported thousands of footsteps, the simple decorations that made this space yours – everything seemed to hold its breath, waiting.

"Same time tomorrow?" Katsuki signed, his movements illuminated by the light above the door. The question was casual, practical, but something in his expression made your heart flutter traitorously in your chest. His hands moved with growing confidence through the signs, evidence of late-night practice sessions he'd never admit to. 

"If you're sure you don't mind," you signed back, hands moving carefully in the dim light. "I know it's a lot of time to spend on your leave." 

He scoffed, the sound soft in the quiet shop. But then his hands stilled, hovering in the space between you as if caught between impulse and restraint. You caught something flicker across his face – an aborted movement, words left unsaid. The hesitation felt significant somehow.

His shoulders tensed slightly, and you could almost see him wrestling with whatever he'd stopped himself from saying. The struggle played out in minute changes of expression, in the way his fingers twitched as if seeking signs he wasn't ready to form. You found yourself holding your breath, though you couldn't have said why.

Instead, his eyes found yours in the half-light, crimson softened to burgundy by the shadows. The intensity of his gaze made your breath catch, though there was something gentle in it that hadn't been there before.

"You know," he signed, movements deliberate, each gesture carrying the weight of careful observation, "for someone who spends all day feeding people, you're pretty bad at taking care of yourself."

The comment took you by surprise, not only for how spot-on it was but also for the quiet concern hidden in his rough voice.

"I take care of what matters," you signed, the familiar defense feeling weaker under his steady gaze. The words tasted like the half-truths you'd been telling yourself for years – that you could keep running on empty, that taking care of yourself was a luxury you couldn't afford, that being strong meant never admitting when you needed help.

His expression shifted into something that might have been fondness, though he quickly masked it with his usual scowl. But you caught it – that moment of softness, of understanding that went deeper than words. "Tch. That includes you, you know."

The words settled warm and heavy in your chest, carrying more weight than their simple meaning should allow. In the dim light, your eyes traced the sharp line of his jaw, the way his ash-blonde hair caught the streetlight's glow, how his usual intensity had softened into something that made your heart beat faster.

"Same time tomorrow," Katsuki signed, his movements illuminated by the light above the door. The statement carried no uncertainty, just the same decisive confidence he brought to everything. A sense of comfort washed over you at his certainty, at how naturally he'd claimed his place in your routine.

"Yes," you nodded simply.

He turned toward the door, and in the narrow space, his shoulder brushed against yours. The brief contact sent electricity skittering across your skin, leaving warmth in its wake that lingered long after the touch itself.

The bell chimed softly as he left, its familiar sound somehow hollow in his absence. You stood in the doorway, watching his figure disappear into the night, the streets quiet except for the distant hum of traffic. Without him, the shop felt suddenly larger, emptier—as if the space he'd occupied had left a vacuum nothing else could fill.

Baby You're a Star

Art in the banner by Kerravi on x!

Pairings- Pornstar Satoru x shy f!reader

Warnings- mentions of sex and sexwork, masturbation ( f) oral (m and f receiving) fingering, spit kink low-key, cum swallowing, reader is innocent DON'T read if you don't like that, mutual pining, obsessive Gojo, he can't get hard if it's not you, this whole damn chap is smut so, aftercare and feelings. A little bit of angsttt, a lil bit of cuteness, demisexual reader and pornstarr Satoru what a pair.

Summary- You meet Satoru Gojo at a wild Hollywood party, insanely out of place, waiting for your friend to show up. The two of you hit it off, spending time together, and share a kiss, but you're a good girl, and you just don't do this, but he is the top pornstar there is, and the top .01 % on OnlyFans. Once you find out, you know there's probably no match, as Satoru doesn't date, and you don't sleep around, but after meeting, you keep in touch- and soon Satoru can't get hard without thinking of you, and you get over curious, and join a livestream of the boy you like. Just how will that go for you both!? WC 10.6k!

<<<Chapter One - Masterlist- Playlist- Chapter Three>>> (coming soon)

Chapter Two

“Come in.”

You shyly take him in, how fucking gorgeous Satoru Gojo looks, shirtless with just a pair of dark jeans sound low on his hips, showing that perfect body up close. You can smell the shampoo he’s used, wafting in the fancy penthouse, just standing there and staring with your lips parted.

Pull it together!

“Thank you, it’s good to see you again.” You say softly, when he shuts the door behind you with a gentle click, and you eye him now, his gorgeous eyes bright and glittery, lips quirked up.

“You sure saw a lot of me.”

“Shit.” You cover your face, and he gently eases your hands down, smiling at you, laughing just a bit.

“Where are your glasses?”

“Contacts today. Do you um, like them?”

“I do, they’re cute on you, but I do like seeing your pretty eyes better.” He’s gently cupping your face as he murmurs, you’re trembling from his touch, his proximity. “Take off your converse. Keep on the kitten socks.”

“You like these huh?” You’re feeling so comfortable already, despite your nerves, of why you’re here, how fucking bold you are, so out of your comfort zone, but it feels fucking perfect. You ease off your shoes, and he kneels, making you gasp, as he runs his fingers over the soft fleece of those socks.

“They’re so hot. Shit.”

“They a-are?” He sighs, pressing a kiss on your thigh and looking up at you then, on his knees, he can inhale your arousal, making him almost press you up on the wall and eat you then and there. He barely controls himself, knowing you’re clearly not experienced, kissing your other thigh and standing slowly.

“Very hot. Need a drink?” You nod shyly, and he takes your hand, as you cross the luxurious expanse of his beautiful home, the finest furniture everywhere, plush shag carpet that would be impossible to clean, over to his kitchen now. “Pick your poison sweets.”

“Do you have wine? I do drink that a bit.”

“Do I have wine? Psh, what vintage, what year?” He pulls open a blue lit wine fridge then, stocked full, and you blink in surprise, peering down with him.

“Nothing fancy! Goodness, I like Rose?”

“Rose it is.” Satoru opens it with ease, some fancy electric cork opener that fascinates you, just making you cuter as you study it. “It isn’t that fancy, swear, this bottle is just ten years old.”

“Isn’t that fancy then?”

“No, not really, but it’s really sweet. You’ll love it.” He leans up, as you take in the enormous kitchen, he reaches a high up cabinet, snatching up two crystal glasses, your fingers brushing the pretty black marble.

“Your home is gorgeous.”

“It better be, fucking expensive as shit.” You can’t stop the little nervous laugh, praying you don’t snort this time jesus that had been embarrassing, thanking him when he hands you a glass filled with pretty pink liquid.

“Thank you so much. Mmm!” You taste it and sigh, eyes fluttering shut as the juicy strawberries hit your tongue. “Oh it’s to die for.”

“I taste better.”

You almost spit out the wine, and he’s grinning and wiggling his brow, you take another sip for courage. “That will be burned into my brain.”

“Good, it should be. I can think of a lot of things I’d love burned into my brain right now.” He sips that wine, just a drop spilling, which you lean over to brush off with your thumb, sighing as he grabs your wrist now, pulling you impossibly close. “Images of you have been steadily fucking me up since that night.”

“So it’s not um, one sided?” He scoffs, setting down both of your glasses, walking you until your back is against the counter, his scent overtaking your sense while his touch burns you.

You wondered, was it the party, was it in your head?

No.

His touch is everything, your eyes are drawn to his, while he leans lower over you now. “One sided?”

“Well, it’s insane and… Satoru I don’t just see you as some object, please know that, we could just… talk and I’d be happy.” He pauses as you murmur nervously, looking down, biting that lip too hard.

“Think I’d mind if you used me? I’d let you use any part of my body.” You gasp, eyes wide when they go up to his now. “Think you haven’t been on my mind since I blew that smoke in your mouth?”

“I didn’t know if- mnh!” He’s pressed you against the counter now, arms barring you on either side, your breath comes so fast as he towers over you in his elegant kitchen, eyes locking on his, head falling back just so.

“I wanted to respect you, despite my very disrespectful thoughts, of everything I wanna do to you.” He’s leaning lower, cupping your face with a hand now, breath mingling as he brings your face so close, lips a mere centimeter away. “Filthy things, I’ve been thinking of.”

“O-oh y-yeah?” He can’t stop his little laugh at you, sighing and tilting his head, pressing a kiss on your lips, just a brush of them that ignites need in your body, heart and fucking soul, which you try to shove down, to focus on how good your skin feels against his.

“Precious little thing, would be so fun to ruin you. Filthy fucking thoughts. But we’ll start with this one.” He picks you up now, you cling to him, arms around his neck, as your eyes meet, and he’s holding you like it’s nothing, hands gripping your ass under your skirt, squeezing and pressing you against him. “I wanna watch your pretty face when you cum so hard you can’t think.”

“God, Satoru…” He’s kissing you again, carrying you effortlessly to his room, you can’t even look at the luxe surroundings, enwrapped in his arms, drowning in his messy, expert kisses. “Mnh!”

“The little sounds you make.” Satoru certainly doesn’t fuck girls that aren’t co-stars or in the industry, but he can’t think of any time he’s ever been this ready, this filled with need for anyone. You feel so perfect in his arms, but you look even better when he pulls up, seeing you in the center of his huge bed, pretty lips swollen from his kisses.

“I love kissing you,” at your sweet words he pauses, and you clear your throat, feeling that flush hit your cheeks, looking down at his chin, touching it gently with a finger, before slipping fingers down his throat. “Too much?”

“No, I love making out.” You smile in relief, he should say how much he loves kissing you, but he doesn’t do that, right? He doesn’t just go dating, falling in love, with his lifestyle, it would just drag a good girl like you down, it’s why he held back, but now that you’re here, he can’t prevent himself from feeling it all.

He wondered, was it in his head?

How good you tasted, felt, your scent?

It wasn’t, and it’s even more intense now, the need unfulfilled by jerking his cock to you constantly, nothing like your soft, yielding lips and body under his, your breasts so soft even as nipples press hard through that fabric. He pulls back, littering kisses down your chest, your collar bone, watching you writhe under his sure touch, his ardent mouth.

“So good, ah!” Your hands grip his blankets, sweating just slightly as he drags down your cardigan, moaning then.

“No bra?” You’re shaking your head, and he smirks now, some of that LA Satoru Pornstar showing through. “Slutty.”

You giggle, before you moan, as his kisses delve lower, and he reveals a breast fully with an unbutton and tug, sighing as he sees one of your pretty tits. “I’ve never been called that.”

“I’m always called that.” You both laugh again, it’s easy, fuck, you feel so good just being under him, his huge hand gripping your breast now, eliciting a moan. “Like me calling you slutty when you’ve been such a good girl, hmm?”

“Oh my god.” He’s chuckling again, the man knows his effect, but you can’t argue, all you can do is gasp out, as he plucks a taut nipple between two fingers.

“Perfect tits, mmm.” He’s kissing down one now, tongue lapping your nipple, tastebuds rolling over the peak, and your eyes flutter shut, tummy clenching with ache for him. “Pretty, perfect, bet all of you is.”

You’re melting under his expert touch, perfect pressure everywhere you didn’t even know you were craving. “You’re so sweet.”

“I taste sweet too. Remember?” You’re furiously blushing now, covering your face as he grins down at you. “You asked, you know, slutty, it’s proven now.”

“It is slutty,” you’re giggling before he yanks the material apart further, mouth latching on to a sensitive peak. “Mnh, Satoru!”

“Mmhmm.” He’s sucking your nipple, pulling back with a pop of his lips, trails of saliva dripping from lush lips, and your heart won’t stop hammering, hot desire shooting through you.

A girl that has to have feelings.

But you already fucking do, admitting it or not, it’s more than his beauty, it’s so much more. You don’t want to scare him off, you just want to experience this, the longing so tangible it’s eaten you alive all week. The videos of him and your friend, him and other girls, dying to know what it feels like, but the way he is with you?

It’s different.

He’s gentler, more careful, sweet, with every caress you’re getting wetter, but also you’re falling into the abyss that is him. “What all have you done before, sweetheart?”

His question brings you back to the matter at hand- experience. “I have had sex once.”

He blinks now. “Once a day?”

You snort at him, as he grins, undoing the rest of your sweater and sighing at how beautiful you are. “Silly. No, just once with my ex, but I guess it was not very good, we split up the day after.”

“Your pussy probably ruined that boy.” You’re giggling again, god it feels good, natural under him, no wonder he’s just so very popular. He makes you feel so pretty as he’s slipping up your skirt, moaning softly. “Oral?”

“No.” He pauses a bit, running his fingers up and down your slit.

“Fingering?”

“Ah!” You can’t stop the cry that escapes your lips when your sticky wetness pours against his fingertips over your panties.

“Asked a question, pretty.”

“Hard to focus.” You’re crying out again, when he eases them down your thighs, eyeing your bare, glistening cunt and almost losing it.

“God it’s perfect.”

“Oh, Satoru, you don't have to say that.” His jaw clenches a bit, eyes narrowing, those white lashes shielding just a bit of the dazzling blue.

“I mean it, I am kind of an expert, you know.” You’re flushed underneath him, so adorable as you run a hand up and down his body, feeling every strong muscle, his cock is twitching, aching to fuck into you. But he holds back a bit, spreading your thighs, hands slipping up them now. “That’s why you asked, because I’m an expert?”

“Because I’ve never felt so comfortable, so…” you trail off, looking down shyly, lashes casting dark shadows on your cheeks, from the soft light over head. “I haven’t felt so wet.”

“Fuck…” He’s running his finger up and down your slit, watching you fall apart from that damn near, thighs tensing, your eyes shooting back up to his own. “You are soaked.”

“It’s a new problem.” He grins again, cocky and self sure, but there’s something to that smile, you try to pin it down but soon he’s thumbing your clit, and you’re gushing further down his hand, dripping onto his bed. “Oh!”

“You touch yourself?” You nod, covering your face again. “Show me.”

“Show you?” He nods, easing back and gently pulling your hand off your face, until your fingers are kissed so sensually, and he puts it down to your pussy, enjoying the color spreading across your cheeks. “Like now!?”

“It’s how I’ll know what you like. Women please themselves better than most men do, so I avidly study. Are you a clitoral girl, a g spot girl? Penetration, friction?”

“It’s like a science to you huh?” You’re fascinated, but not as fascinated as Satoru Gojo is when he’s watching your tiny little fingers part your plump folds, pressing up to find your little clit. The action is sexier than anything he’s seen, and he’s seen so many lewd, wanton things, but this?

God you’re just art.

How your lips part, brows together in concentration, as his hands press into the plush of your thighs, blue eyes drawn right to your slick cunt, drooling wetness out of your little hole. He’s barely hanging on by a thread, a man of his experience and profession, decimated by the pretty girl tentatively rubbing her clit for him, in nothing but a little skirt shoved up her hips, that sweater laid out under her. 

“Mnh!” Your quiet little moan elicits something feral, he tries to remain calm on the outside, give you a smirk, as he leans down, pressing a kiss on your inner knee, feeling you tremble underneath him.

“So you like your clit played with?” His husky words just make you wetter, more sensitive, as you play with yourself spread wide for this man.

“Y-yes.” Your little nod is met with a gasp, as you look at his fingers, slipping slowly up.

“Can you cum from it?”

“Usually… the wand…” He kisses higher up your thigh, watching as you get so wet you’re slippery, fingers slipping as he watches you avidly, watches the way you’re shifting, tilts his head to see where you’re pressing.

“She’s probably tiny and hard to get. Allow me?”

“Yes sir.” He chuckles at that, taking his thumb and pressing up, hitting your clit so good you can’t take it. “Oh! Oh my god…”

“She’s very tiny. But that’s good, easily stimulated,” Satoru’s murmuring now, touching your slick, bare cunt, making him die to taste you, pressing the quivering little clit while you cling to his wrist, whining out. “You like that, sweets?”

All you can manage is a nod, as he brings you to the edge, pleasure filling you, the sighs mixing with the sounds of your slick cunt clicking in his room, echoing and making it even more lewd, wild, while you let the man you hardly know touch you. Fuck you want him to, as he presses up harder, and you’re gripping his forearm, feeling those muscles tense as he works you.

“Satoru!” He moans softly, god he loves how you say his name.

“Ready for a finger inside you? Bet you’re so tight.” You nod nervously, when he slips his middle finger in then, so long it’s insane, making you gasp out, as he exhales, moaning out softly with you. “Knew it, so tight, but… here’s a spot baby.”

He curls his finger just so, and you’re gasping for a breath, while his thumb still presses your clit, your body writhing as he builds pressure. You are so tight, he’s questioning how much work up you’d need for his cock, but he’s sure it’d be worth it, to stretch this perfect little cunt out. He swipes back a little drop of drool off your lips when your back arches off the bed, tits begging for his kisses.

You realize then, it’s not just his skill, how good his thick finger feels inside of you, how beautiful his lidded eyes are, it’s the energy emitting from his being, with every exhale, how he looks at you underneath him. You gasp as he hits a spot deep inside your slick walls, making you see white hot stars for just a moment, soft cry escaping your lips, you’re so wet you can hear it, the squelching of your cunt so loud in his penthouse.

But it’s not just how good it feels, you know it’s something more, how Satoru looks at you like you’re the prettiest thing there is, like you’re all there is. His other hand strokes your hair back, as your thigh hitches up over his hip, allowing him to sink deeper with an impossibly long finger now. The way he feels, his weight on you, everything about him overwhelming all your senses.

“Look at you, fuck…” His soft murmur causes his hot breath to brush your lips, you taste just how sweet he is, your hands gripping his chest, as your eyes roll back with how his fingers hit. “There you go, feel her pulsing around me, can you take two, sweetheart?”

“They’re so thick…” He chuckles now, cocky in his little grin, pulling one out to suck it off, and your throat goes dry, seeing his cheeks hollow, and his own eyes fluttering shut as he moans.

“It tastes so sweet, god.” He sucks his other clean finger, tapping your thigh now. “Relax, if you can’t we’ll go back to one, okay?”

“Y-yes.” You’re so cute laid under him, the little squeak when he slips two into your tight little cunt making him chuckle. “You’re laughing at me.”

“You’re so adorable. Sorry.” He’s smiling at your half assed little glare, but you’re all flustered, your cheeks heated to the touch when he presses his lips on one, sinking both fingers in now, making you cry out at the stretch. “Loosen up, sweets, relax. Just feel it.”

Just feel.

But you feel too much.

Fuck.

You nod as he leans up, dying to yank his lips down on yours, craving the connection even as he eases you to relax, to take more of him, and when you do, when you’re that full, your moans get throatier, cunt slicker. He exhales as he feels it, as he watches you, easing back to shove that skirt higher up, to look at your little hole sucking him in so greedily.

“God I wanna bury my fucking face in her, can I?” Your lips part in a gasp, when he’s laying prone between your thighs, easing his fingers out to spread your lips, watching your little hole wink and twitch as it leaks more of your arousal out of it.

“Y-you do?” He smirks now, soft tousled hair falling over his brow, you brush it back then, making him even harder, cock twitching in response to that, as he inhales your scent.

“I would die to have you cum all over my face, drown me in it.” How is he. He’s insane and ruining you. “Your cunt is even fucking cute.”

“How can it be cute!?” He’s chuckling again, breathing against you, and yours comes faster, breasts rising and falling in your open sweater.

“They can be cute, especially yours.” He smacks a kiss on it - ‘muah’ making you giggle then, instantly relaxing, as you realize…

You trust him.

He’s a stranger, but fuck if it doesn’t feel like you’ve known this insane man forever, exhaling and spreading your thighs more, he notices the action, you relaxing under his palms, earning more of him dying to enter you. But he has this feeling, that once he does?

You’ll fucking ruin him.

Your taste alone is sweeter than any wine he’s had, the most corny shit he should not come up with in his sex addled mind, but you make him think of more, of every reaction of your pretty body. How you cry out, your sighs, the way your hips shift now, your little hands gripping his shoulders, nails pressing in, making him vividly picture how good it’ll feel when they’re raking down his back.

“You want it, hmm sweets?” He asks again, kissing higher, sighing as he nears you, feels your heat against his face. You nod then, shyly, and he leans up a bit, pressing one more kiss over your hood, chin brushing your needy little clit. “I need explicit consent, enthusiastic consent before we go further.”

Fuck he’s perfect.

You’re playing a dangerous game, you already feel yourself falling into the unreal swirling blue storms of the eyes looking up at you, from between your thighs. Your hands relax then, cupping his cheek, which he presses a kiss on your palm, and you decide any of him is worth it, how badly he makes you need him, how willingly your body is ready to respond, your heart needs to stay in its chest.

“Yes, I would love you to, please.” Your words end him, sweeter from your lips than he could imagine, and with that he doesn’t just lick you, no, Satoru Gojo devours you then and there. “Ah! S-Satoru!”

“Mnh…” He’s buried his face against your pretty pussy, and fuck he’s ruined further just from it, from sweet arousal seeping into his tastebuds, as he dives that tongue in your pulsing little hole. You’re tensing under him, tummy trembling when he presses down on it, making his next stroke so intense you start to fall apart under him, hands yanking his silky locks.

You taste sweeter than anything.

And fuck if Satoru Gojo doesn’t have one hell of a sweet tooth.

The way he devours you then is surreal, you’re clinging to his hair just to grasp the earth, his hungry moans vibrating your sensitive clit as he flicks his tongue up to it, sucking it in his hot mouth, making your toes curl under those socks, the sensations so overwhelming, and he’s just getting started. He’s got that smug look in his blue eyes when he glances up at you.

Your taste is something he can’t describe, Satoru loves eating pussy, but fuck if you’re not an entire delicacy, spread just for him. Some possessive, psychotic instinct takes over then, knowing he’s the first to kiss your pussy, lap you up, having you pull his hair so hard it hurts, as he presses his cock against the mattress. Why is he so fucking feral over you?

Every insane fucking instinct kicks in while he slathers your cunt with his saliva, his tongue lapping up your juices, and god there’s so much. You’re soaking his face, manicured nails pressing against his scalp, while you scream out hoarsely. Your moans and little cries just make it more intense for him, when he’s flicking his tongue just so, making you writhe under him.

He grabs at your hips, dragging you more impossibly on his face, and sucks on your clit, hard, making you jolt and moan his name now, your body arching off the bed. Satoru is relentless, his tongue flicking and circling, his teeth grazing, and it’s driving you wild, making you want to grab him and push him deeper, grind against his face. But you hold back, biting your lip, your hands tight in his hair as he devours you.

“You can fuck my face till you cum, don’t hold back.” His whisper is met with a lewd kiss on your clit, grinning against you now, you feel every line of those straight white teeth on your sensitive cunt.

“I c-can’t do that!”

“Yeah you can. Use my face till you get off.” You’re blinking in confusion, even when he’s literally been with so many women, you can’t help but feel special, how he looks at you then.

“You sure?” He nods, and you yank him against you then, to his satisfied moan, hips arching up to fuck his pretty, perfect face now, grinding on his long, talented tongue, as he continues to fucking ruin you with each stroke. “M’cumming!”

He just moans, as you can feel your orgasm building, a crescendo of pleasure that’s going to shatter you, hitting your tummy and making it clench, the heat spreading while he works you so good, like he knows your body better than you do. And then he does it, he pushes his long tongue inside you, curling it just so and pressing on your gummy walls.

At the sensation your hips pause, his nose bumping your twitchy little clit, and you cum so hard you’re blinded, your body shaking as you scream out, so loud it should embarrass you, but he’s loving it all. Your cunt squeezing and spasming around his tongue, pussy pulsing with the force of your climax. He groans into you, the vibrations sending aftershocks through your body now.

“Oh my god, oh my f-fucking… Satoru!” You’re pushing at him now, when he flicks his tongue back on that clit, making you clench around nothing now, struggling as he pushes you into another fucking orgasm. “S-sensitive!”

“Good.” His first word since drinking you up. “Messy, slutty little cunt, she loves it huh?” He’s damn near talking to your cunt now, smacking another messy kiss along it, face glistening with you, making you flush. “Can you cum one more time?”

“It’s a lot I…”

“You can, hmm? C’mon, one more f’me, pretty please.” You manage a shaky breath, nodding while he sinks a finger into your pulsing hole.

“Oh! Mnh!” You’re reduced to noises, words can’t be formed when he curls his finger just so in your messy cunt now, pressing up and hitting the sweetest pressure, your hands grip his blankets until they crumple underneath your hands, as he pushes you once more, this time more intense. “Cumming, cumming!”

“Mhmm.” He just moans that, watching you with dilated blue eyes that appear almost black, curling a long finger so deep you shatter, weak and dazed as you come down from the high, blinking away stars.

“Holy fuck… what the…” He’s sighing now, easing his finger from your tight little cunt, pressing kisses to your inner thighs, as you brush back his hair, trying to catch your breath. “You’re better than any vibrator my god.”

“Of course I am.” He’s grinning, when you swipe off your slick, embarrassed and flustered. “You’re so messy baby.”

“I’m so sorry! I’ve never done all this!” You lean up on your elbows, looking at the wet spot under you, drooling across your thighs, and all over his lips and chin.

“It’s sexy, stop it.” He leans over you now, you gasp as his hot heavy length presses against you under his pants, taking several shaky breaths, eyeing his lips.

“Can you kiss me again?” Your whisper is raw and vulnerable, you’re trembling under him, as he leans closer. “Sorry I just need it.”

“Of course, you should taste yourself.” He slams his lips down, the charge between you both unreal, you’re drinking yourself off him, thighs pressing against his hips now. Your hands slip up his strong back, feeling how hot his skin is, while his tongue delves into your mouth, and you taste your sweetness.

“Thank you.” Your little whisper ends him then, between smacks of kisses between you two, he should be thanking you for letting him, since when has he thought that way? “God, fuck that was intense.”

“You came pretty easy for me, you know.”

“Oh!” He’s grinning and wiggling his brows, and for a moment it feels too natural, too easy to be under him, making you both pause.

This was what he did for a living.

He’s certainly having fun, but you can’t get too confused.

“What else would you like to do? Are you sure you’re ready for it all?” His intent makes you so nervous.

“I wanted to suck you? Is that okay?” Satoru’s cock hurts so bad it takes everything to hold himself back, from grabbing your pretty face and fucking it, stretching that little throat out. He thinks he’s dreaming, swathed in your taste, your scent, brushing your now messy hair back gently.

“Is that okay? Fuck yes.” You giggle now, as he helps you sit up, switching positions and lying on his back now. You are almost naked, the skirt still on along with your kneesocks - those kittens, so cute he thinks - something so seductive about you keeping them on as you get on your knees.

“He’s very pretty. Is that weird to say?” He shakes his head, letting you unbutton his pants now, watching you avidly, your hair falling to the side, just over one breast, which he puts back over your shoulder now. He watches you shiver from the contact, goosebumps on your breasts.

“He’s very pretty, I already know this.” You roll your eyes a bit at him, but his laughter dies when his cock is free, and he’s helping you take the rest of his boxers off his slim, long legs. “Blushing again?”

“It’s bigger in person!? How.” He’s just beaming, you’re sure this is merely stroking his enormous ego, but you can’t help it.

“The camera subtracts two inches.”

“Does it now?” You’re leaning down, hair brushing his thighs as your tiny hand wraps his thick, massive cock, tracing a pale blue vein under taut skin, watching as he jerks, whining out softly. “Is that okay?”

“God yes…” He’s swallowing now, it was easy to be conceited eating you out, but he’s a fucking mess when you barely touch him. He shuts his eyes, trying to pull himself together, he’s supposed to teach you, not get flustered like some damn virgin, about to bust from a touch. “Have you jerked one?” You shake your head. “I’m so confused, how did you have sex at all?”

“He just put it in, and it hurt.” Satoru frowns now, seeing the expression on your face.

“You can’t just put it in, you’re stupid - ah - tight.” You’re stroking a bit, laying down now, breaths against him.

“Two virgins I guess we sucked.” You muse softly, sighing a bit. “But you’re… much, much bigger.”

“Well I wouldn’t hurt you. Okay?” You nod then, smiling because you already know, pressing the flat of your tongue to his slit, making him whimper, the sound has you pause, as you taste him, sticky precum coating your tongue.

“You are yummy.” Satoru can’t take it then, yanking you up and making you gasp, pinning you beneath him. “Satoru, let me suck it please?”

“I can’t take it.” He kisses his taste off you, drool pooling in your mouth as he hastily unzips your skirt. “I’ll bust quick.”

“How? I’ve watched you, and your stamina-”

“No stamina right now. Shit stamina.” He’s kissing you again, and something shifts, hungry and desperate, overwhelming your senses, filled with him. Your hands grip his obliques, feeling them tense as he moves, as he breathes with you. “Let me have you cum again.”

“I wanted to make you cum.” Your soft whisper elicits a low growl from him, as he clutches you so tightly you almost can’t breathe, wondering just what the fuck you’re making him into. “If it’s fast won’t that mean I’m doing good?”

“That’s one way to look at it - ah!” You’re touching him between your bodies, stroking him again, watching how his lips part, his jaw clenched, muscles so tense his arms are shaking. “Shit, okay.”

He stands now, as you’re on your knees, brushing your hair into a ponytail and holding it there, pulling just a bit as he touches your cheek. “Tell me what to do?”

“Open.” His soft command is husky, reverberating through you, as you do just that, forward on your hands and knees, as he slips the tip of his cock against your open lips, painting the precum along them like the prettiest gloss. “Fuck…”

You stay open, god you’re a good girl, aren’t you?

“That’s it, use your tongue sweetheart- f-fuck…” As you do just that, and his cock fills your mouth, Satoru loses his tentative control, pulling your hair so hard you cry out just a bit. “Shit, you okay?”

You pull back with a pop, looking up at him with dilated eyes, lidded and full of desire. “I’m good, I um… liked it.”

He pulls it again, pricking pain that makes your cunt impossibly wet again, as you suck him in, trying to remember what you’ve seen before. Satoru’s moving now, sucking in a breath when he sinks deep in your throat, feeling you gag around it, he has to pause his thrusts, exhaling.

“Relax the throat, just like that, such a good girl, aren’t you?” You’re whining out, pressing your thighs together as you suck up and down his length, so long he makes you choke, tensing. “Breathe through the nose, there you go.”

You’re listening so perfectly, would you listen to anything he said?

Satoru’s never been one for too much bdsm, but fuck if you don’t elicit every goddamn thought of anything he’s seen. Tying you up, blindfolding you, making you cum until you faint from it, waking you up and doing it again. He struggles to cling to any sense of composure as you shut your eyes, nostrils flaring a bit, sucking him in so deep inside your tight throat, squeezing him.

“Fuck, you’re doing so good, look at you. Sucking him so deep, can you bottom out?” You try to concentrate, relaxing your throat, nodding just a bit, and Satoru can feel the bulge of his cock in your delicate throat as he brushes his hand along it, sighing at how goddamn sexy you are.

His abdomen flexes, the muscles taut and defined as his hips move, as his cock pulses in that tight chamber, gripping him and making him think just how perfect your pussy will feel. The thoughts of it have him fucking your face harder, faster, as you reach down, touching yourself, unable to take it, balancing on one arm now.

“Gotta touch your pussy again, love my cock so much?” This isn’t Satoru’s ‘pornstar voice’ no, it’s husky, desperate, broken, as he feels you pushing him closer and closer with each suck, flick, gag, god when you gag it feels so good, so much he wants to keep causing it.

You’re slipping two little fingers in your slick hole, they slip in easily which has never really happened before, but how can it not when Satoru had stretched you with one of his long, thick fingers? Something is heady when you look up at him under your lashes, hitting your own spot, whining and choking on his cock, watching the flush of his cheekbones, feeling him tense.

You feel so much, more than just sucking a beautiful cock, the intensity and care of him fucking your throat means too much, how he’s delicate, careful, holding back. You see it in his tense body, you feel him shaking, holding back so he doesn’t hurt you, testing just what you like. And you want to please him, god you do, you want him feeling just a bit of what he just gave you.

Satoru’s breaths themselves are pornographic, heavy and stuttering, his words broken as he fucks your face so goddamn good, you’re pumping your fingers in quicker, but god nothing felt like his. Long and thick, compared to yours, so short and not hitting a goddamn thing, squishing and clicking, along with the sound of your suction, slobbering all down Satoru’s length now.

“You’re so good, d-didn’t need a lesson, for shit- ah! Mmm!” He’s louder than you expected, in the clips you watched he was a little more quiet, he’s so loud and vocal while he thrusts, pausing then, pulling back, letting you take a dizzy breath.

“You like it?” Your whisper ends him, he shakes his head.

“Like it no.” That wasn’t a good word for whatever your innocent mouth is doing to him, he’s had the most practiced girls, he’s had multiple sucking him at once, as he came all over their faces, crossed eyes and tongues sticking out. But nothing is like your nervous little look, as he grabs your hand now, yanking it off you.

“Ah!” You’re gasping as he sucks your cunt off them, moaning as he does, making your jaw drop.

“I’m about to cum, where do you want it?” You turn into a flustered mess when he releases your spit soaked fingers.

“Wanna taste you.” Your answer has him desperate, he’s pressing your lips open again, cock shoving deep, you moan around him, pushing Satoru over that ledge.

“Wanna swallow all my cum, like a good girl?” He knows what that does, it’s so clear, and you manage a nod, when he fucks your face faster and faster, hands gripping your face delicately for as hard as he’s going. “Ready baby?”

You merely whine out, shaking as you feel him pulse in your throat, he pulls back, and then you feel it, hot and sticky, so much cum, ropes of it pouring in your mouth now, as Satoru whimpers again. This time you know it’s different from what you heard, his usual moans, looking up to see his eyes fluttering shut, his hands gripping your face harder as he keeps filling your mouth.

You swallow him all down, he is sweet, just a tiny bit bitter, but flooding your senses as your hands grip his thighs, and you suck him all down, every rope of white cum filling your throat and now your tummy. You’re so full, sucking more and more, until he’s sensitive, gasping.

“F-fuck, god, I’ve… you…” He can’t form a word, as an innocent, nerdy little thing has destroyed him, made him into a whimpering fucking mess.

How the fuck.

He eases back, and tilts your chin up, as your hands slip up his abdomen, brushing the soft white hair above his still hard cock. “Lemme see, did you swallow it all?”

You nod, opening as he guides your jaw, and he sees your pink tongue, your mouth devoid of his cum aside from some that had spilled on the corner of your mouth. Satoru exhales, swiping at it now.

“Want more of me?”

“Yes.” It’s instant, you don’t even think of it.

“Then open again.” You do just that, when Satoru spits right down into your open mouth, lewd and filthy, the saliva stringing down until it hits your tongue. “Swallow.”

You gulp him down, as his hand wraps your pretty throat, and he can’t stand it then, a cock that’s cum twice today won’t go away, it’s coming back if anything at how debauched he’s made you. How obedient you are, looking at him in shock, wiping at your lips, cheeks tinged with color.

“Pretty fucked out little doll.” You whine out as he kisses you again, craving his lips more than anything, the way you feel in his arms, as he presses you against his hard body. “Are you sure you’ve never done it?”

“Y-yes, um… you’re very sweet.”

God. Ruining him.

You’re ruining him.

He’s kissing you again and again as his phone goes off, he smacks at it, scowling, mouth back over yours, tits squished in his huge hands. His cock is hot and heavy against your thigh when it’s going off again, he sighs, leaning up and peering over at it on the nightstand.

“Manager, shit.”

“It’s fine, go ahead Satoru.” You whisper, stroking his cheek now, he moans and kisses you again, before leaning up now.

“Yep.” He answers, still running his hands down your tits, your nipples, eliciting cries you try to bite back, much to his pleasure. “Yeah I know I just… have wanted to do solo for a bit.”

You’re trying not to listen in, caressing a bicep, feeling just how strong and cut he is, while he smiles down at you. You hear the manager’s voice, and watch Satoru roll those baby blues, sighing now, sitting up a bit. You go to do so as well, but he gently pushes you down, shaking his head.

“I don’t wanna do the gang bang, too many dicks.” You can’t stop the little laugh, and Satoru smirks at you, pressing a little kiss to your collarbone. “You’re gonna scare my friend off. Yeah I have friends, the fuck?”

Satoru continues the conversation, still kissing on you, something you didn’t know how badly you needed or craved after doing so much with him, god his cum is inside you, along with his spit. Imagining him just… leaving you… or sending you home after he came was a big fear, and what you expected, but the fact that he’s so touchy is making you feel even more comfortable.

It’s like you’ve known him.

Since you met him you felt that way, your heart aches at his cute, almost boyish grin, while he keeps speaking. “Fine, I’ll do the shoot if it’s that much money, but I swear I’m tired of Sukuna lately. And Toji? Ugh. Fine, fine then.” He hangs up his phone, and you bite that lip, making him gently tug it. “I hate gang bangs.”

“That’s not something I thought I’d hear from anyone?” He tosses his phone aside, kissing up the side of your neck, making it tickle. “You have a shoot?”

“Yeah, I avoided them all week.” He pauses then, not wanting to say why, surely you don’t… feel anything other than pleasure, right? And if so, you’re a good girl - what if this life hurt you?

“Why are you avoiding it?”

Satoru sighs, kissing up to your ear, dying to say it - you.

But that’s fucking insane.

“I get a little exhausted sometimes from it all, I figured I’d focus on the OF.” He leans up, brushing fingers across your cheeks, still hot to the touch, your gaze affixed on his collarbone now. “I really hate working with Toji and Sukuna. Suguru is fine, we’re so close I guess. But those two are so annoying. And one girl, four dicks? Dicks touching, balls touching.”

“Oh god.” You’re nervously laughing as he does. “So why do it?”

“It’s my job, I can’t keep turning em all down, already got my manager angry as fuck clearly.” He sighs now, because he can’t even fathom having a girl under him, it’s like you’ve done something.

“So a gang bang.”

“Yep. Ugh. Let’s not talk about it.” He’s kissing you again, and you can’t help but again feel envious of anyone that gets him, and you damn sure should not think this fucking way. “Do you want more?”

“I think maybe a pause. Because that was a lot. I’m a little worn out.”

“Amateur.”

“I’m not a pornstar!” You shove at him playfully and he laughs again, but this time you feel it, the tension, his hand gripping yours gently, warm and wrapped around your little wrist, as it rests on his chest.

“There are amateur pornstars you know.”

“Well that certainly couldn’t be me. I don’t think I’d let so many people see me naked- not that I mind that you do! Did that seem judgy!? Shit-”

“Shh. No, you’re just you, and that’s okay.” You heave a breath of relief, hoping he would never think you’d judge him, as you fall deeper into that gaze. “So when is your next lesson, student?”

“Student!” You can’t stop the blush, the giggle, that makes him die for you over and over, when the door opens. “Oh!”

“I forgot to mention, I share the penthouse with Suguru.” He quickly buttons your cardigan, as you slip on your skirt, and the two of you hear kisses and soft moans, Satoru steps out curiously, literally still naked. “Oh, hey Mandy.”

“Gojo!” Suguru is kissing down a pretty girl's neck as Satoru leans in his doorway, dick just out like he couldn’t care less, and you step up behind him, earning Suguru’s curious gaze.

“It’s the pretty girl from the party.” He smiles, as the girl - Mandy, you guess - looks at you as well, and you recognize her.

“Oh it’s Jenna’s friend, hi.” You wave and she giggles, bouncing over to you, while Suguru takes his jacket and shoes off. She gives Satoru a kiss on the cheek, then takes your hand. “You take the best pictures of her, oh my god!”

“Oh, that’s sweet of you.” Satoru finally goes to slip on his jeans, giving you all a good look at his little round ass, as he slips them up over them. “She told you I took those?”

“She did. Hey, I’d pay good money for a shoot.”

“Oh, I don’t do it professionally…” Satoru comes back now, a hand at the small of your back.

“You took those of Jenna?” You nod now. “Shit they look pro.”

“There are always side hustles love.” Suguru says now, holding a hand out to you, and you put your much smaller one in his, as he brings it to his lips. “We didn’t officially meet. Suguru Geto.”

You give him your name shyly, and then he’s dragging Mandy to his room, as she waves at you now. “If you change your mind, let me know!”

“I will.” You’re fidgeting a bit as they shut the door, laughter echoing through Satoru - and Suguru’s - penthouse. “A co-star?”

“She’s mainly Suguru’s co-star, but I’ve joined in. That is about as close to dating as he gets I think.” There it is, the word - dating. He clears his throat then, tilting your chin up. “Seriously, those pictures are so good. I didn’t know you took them.”

“Jenna is just beautiful, it’s easy.” Satoru frowns, watching you look down nervously.

“I mean lighting, angles baby, that shit matters in the industry. You said you did graphic design?” You nod. “Not too far off art in general, and bodies are art.”

“You think bodies are art?” Satoru leans down now, one hand on either side of you.

“Yours sure is.” His words do too much damage, words you die to hear from his perfect lips, but here you are - falling - when you know damn well you can’t.

“You’re way too nice.”

“I am not even. I told you I’m an expert.” He grabs your waist now, and you can’t stop your heart from racing, from feeling too much, for a man that apparently will be having a whole gang bang tomorrow. No, you have to keep this separated, you got pleasure, he did, and that’s okay.

Right?

Get out of your head!

“Let’s get you something to eat, bet you forgot hmm? You’re all shaky.”

“You notice a lot.”

“I like to pay attention,”

He’s perfect, aside from… his job is to fuck people.

Shit stop caring!

“Let me heat you up something, come on.” You follow him into the kitchen, hearing the moans and cries, and Satoru smirks as he peeks at his phone. “They’re really on cam right now.”

“Oh!”

“Wanna see?”

“No, no. No way.” Satoru turns on the microwave, leaning on the counter, eyes raking over your body slowly, you feel it like a caress.

“Only watch me, hmm? I’m so special?” His lips turn up, and he’s teasing, but you almost say yes, he is, holding it back nervously.

“Maybe you are.” You want to seem teasing, fun, but your voice is just soft and nervous, Satoru’s lips part, as if to speak, then the microwave beeps. “You don’t have to feed me, Satoru.”

“Yes I do. It’s nothing, I have a million of these meals, and they’re full of protein- you need that after sex you know. Sit.” You sit up on the bar stool now, as he places the little meal in front of you, then turns to the fridge, to give you the best view of this man’s back.

God it’s sexy, the curve of his spine, the dimples in his lower back, the bulging muscles so defined, your mouth goes dry for a moment. He pulls out a water bottle, before going over to one of those pretty white cabinets, pristinely clean for two bachelors living here you notice. He takes a little packet, smiling at you as he tears it now, pouring it in.

“Electrolytes, for the waterfall.”

“Oh god.” You’re covering your face as he laughs, the sound is so nice, it’s too nice, how thoughtful he is, when he shakes up the bottle and hands it to you.

“It’s hot, stop. Eat.”

After eating as much as you could, and drinking most of the bottle he’s mixed up, Satoru has you in the bathroom, tenderly helping you clean up, fixing your outfit while you’re waiting on your ride. He is by far the sweetest guy you’ve met, careful when he wipes you up in places that make you blush, then tackling your hair with a flat black brush.

Satoru’s brushing your hair gently, you see him towering over you, behind you in the reflection, so careful as he slips that brush through your messy hair, so relaxing you almost fall asleep. “You’re spoiling me.”

“This isn’t spoiling, sweetheart.” God the thought of spoiling you fucks him up. Images of fucking you in just some diamond body chain, and nothing else, brings the cock he’s trying to calm down get hard all over again. “Aftercare is important.”

“I see this. You do… for your co-stars?”

“Of course I always make sure they’re cleaned up and okay, but especially for you and not being so experienced. I imagine you didn’t get that with your ex?” You shake your head a bit.

“I thought we were in love, after that I really closed off. But no he was sweet it was like we both were a little too sheltered, and then that kind of cinched it, that we weren’t compatible. Do you think everyone can be physically compatible?” Satoru purses his lips then, shaking his head.

“I can make anyone cum, because I know how, but,” his hand puts down the brush, now he’s eyeing you in the fancy gilded mirror, brushing your hair over your shoulders, studying your pretty face. “I don’t think everyone ‘vibes’ if that makes any sense.”

“It does, actually.” Was that it, you two mesh well? Not whatever fantastical ideas run rampant in your addled mind? When he rests his chin on your head now, holding you, you try to remember, Satoru is sweet, he does this with his costars. He’s just a good guy who knows women.

It can’t be more.

While Satoru remembers that he could not ever be good for a girl like you, and he shouldn’t even let this happen, because you’re fucking his brain up. The thought of fucking anyone makes him cringe, god all he wants to do is bury his face between your thighs again, keep having you cum. He’s got to remember you trust him to show you things, and that’s all it needs to be.

He has a career he loves, right?

His hands slip further down your body, your breaths quicken, his big hand splayed on your tugged cardigan. “You really are art.”

“Satoru, the things you say- mnh!” He’s lost now, cupping you between your thighs again, as he presses you against the counter, eyes so bright with those shrunken pupils, as you feel fingers glide against your panties again. Your eyes roll back, head falling against his chest.

“Let me have you cum one more time before your car gets here?” You weakly nod, how can you not, and he moans, bending low so he can slip your panties to the side, fingering you with two, you try to cover your cry, and he yanks your hand off your mouth. “Wanna watch that pretty face.”

You’re so fucked.

He has you gushing down his fingers, making a mess all down thick knuckles, hasty and quick in the bathroom, as his lips touch the shell of your ear. “I can’t wait to sink my cock so deep in this perfect cunt.”

“Ah! Satoru… ngh…” You’re ended, wrapped in his dangerous embrace, eyes losing focus when he murmurs again.

“Look at yourself when you cum.” You never have done this, you’ve never seen your face this way, the way your eyes are so dilated, you can barely see a ring of their color anymore, your parted lips, when he slips another hand under your chin, keeping your face forward.

You’re pulsing around his fingers once more, this time so sensitive from your orgasms it’s even easier for him, when he kisses up your neck, up to your ear, breaths heavy against it. Your vision shakes when you’re getting closer, ass arching while he presses you even more against the marble sink, the soft cream walls all fading as you begin to shatter.

“Art… see?” His whisper is so raw and genuine, you nod weakly, falling against his strong body as he eases his fingers, pressing them to your clit and eliciting one more orgasm, running in circles while he watches you, hungrily, and you know it even more, cunt spasming for him.

You really fucking like Satoru Gojo.

You want to be dumb and say what’s in your heart, but it can’t be, it’s his enigmatic charm, it’s his sweetness, it’s how sexy he makes you feel. It’s his presence it’s… god, all of him, intoxicating like some drug, and you’re not sure if a taste of him is anywhere close to enough, when he takes his fingers out, leaving you empty, putting his fingers to your lips.

“Suck.” His quiet orders are so easily obeyed by you it drives him to insanity, pulling you close as you taste his fingers, eyeing how sensual and fucked out you look in his arms, wondering how he lets you go.

*****

The Next Day 

The bright lights of the set are fucking blinding, there’s too many dicks, that must be it, not the girl that’s in his fucking head constantly, that he would do anything to have gushing down his face again. The one he kept thinking how beautiful her goddamn eyes were while she swallowed him, versus just thinking of the pleasure, no it was more, far more.

“Satoru, you really need Viagra buddy.” Sukuna says with a chuckle, when the director yells - cut! - and Satoru sighs.

“Oh fuck you, it’s all your dicks.”

“You look like you really don’t mind-”

“Toji, stop.” Suguru pauses him before Satoru and Toji fight as they tend to when they butt heads on a shoot. But, the directors wanted the top stars, and here they all were in one room with a beauty, who pauses sucking Sukuna and jerking Toji then, looking at Satoru curiously.

“I need a minute.” Satoru’s manager frowns now, having seen this before in the last shoot. He comes up to him now, as Satoru frowns at his usually at least semi hard cock just hanging there, irritating him to no end.

“Go take a break. Try to… get back to it.” Satoru nods, heading to the dressing room and downing a bottle of water from the fridge, leaning over the counter where they do their makeup, though Satoru never really needs anything but a little clear mascara for those long white lashes.

He came in your mouth, he had you on his face, shouldn’t that have fulfilled something, the longing and desire? Did he need to fuck you to actually be able to function? Or if he fucked you would he be good and ruined!? Considering her mouth and hand could do nothing to him, and his annoying co stars talking shit certainly didn’t help anything.

How were you?

He hadn’t heard from you today.

Since when does he care if a girl hits him up? He frowns now, wrapping a towel around his hips, hanging low, pulling up his cell phone and seeing it then, making him smile, and he sees how lovesick and goofy the smile is in the mirror. He immediately tries to stop it, the grin, but his lips keep twitching when he looks at the text again.

Good Girl🫦 (yes that’s what he saved you as, no he’s not sorry) I hope you have a great shoot today, Satoru. I am not working tomorrow if you’d like to get dinner? Is that weird? It’s weird. Just have a good day! Ignore me!

He laughs a bit, you’re too fucking adorable and just awkward, god he fucking loves it.

🌽🌟 Satoru (yes that’s his name in your phone, no you’re not sorry) You’re cute. Of course we can do dinner, you pick a spot?

He sits down as the three dots do more to make him hard than this stupid ass shot, wondering at you then. Was dinner code for a lesson, or did you want to hang out with him? Spend time? He fears that would make him fall just as much if not more as touching you, kissing you, because god if he doesn’t just love listening to you talk, like that night at the party.

You fascinate him.

Good Girl🫦- I sure can, six pm work for you?

🌽🌟 Satoru - Sure thing sweetheart.

When he calls you sweetheart you can’t stop the goofy smile on your face, but then you remember where he is. He’s probably on a break from… a fucking gang bang, and you can NOT be jealous about that. You cannot be upset that you already want him to yourself, greedy, stupid and selfish. God you knew you probably couldn’t handle this well, but the fact that it’s more intense than you anticipated is hard to swallow.

But you want him near you, even just for dinner, you were so nervous he’d turn you down, but god if you don’t enjoy his presence altogether. He makes you laugh, he makes you feel so good, as if this… emptiness you’ve had for a long time is filled by a big white grin and sparkling blue eyes.

🌽🌟 Satoru - We’re friends, right?

Good Girl🫦 - Absolutely, no matter what ‘lessons’ we do, I want to be your friend.

🌽🌟 Satoru - Then can I get a favor, pretty please? I will make it up by buying us dinner.

Good Girl🫦 - Of course, what is it?

🌽🌟 Gojo - Another picture of you.

You’re flushed now, surely on a shoot with a beautiful girl he didn’t need some picture of you? You’re home now, just in gym shorts and a crop top, hair in a messy bun, your glasses on.

Good Girl🫦 - Satoru I look like crap.

🌽🌟 Satoru - Bet you look hot.

Good Girl🫦 - Picture of what?

Satoru sighs in relief, biting his lower lip, wondering if he should just come out and fucking say it - he doesn’t think he can get hard if you’re not there, in his head, if he doesn’t see you. It’s a theory that’s getting more and more tangible by the moment, that he doesn’t know if he can perform his damn job anymore because your taste is soaked in his tastebuds.

🌽🌟 Satoru - Your perfect tits, please? I’ll show you mine.

You giggle then, shaking your head, skin so overheated when you nervously look in the mirror in your room, scattered books and stuffed animals covering the dresser. Can you do this, take a picture of… your body for him?

Good Girl🫦 - why? Aren’t there tits for you waiting?

You’re bratty, he didn’t realize till now. It makes you hotter.

🌽🌟 Satoru - Not even close to as pretty as yours - and there are so many dicks and balls. Help your friend out :’) I will make sure I kiss them as a thank you.

Good Girl🫦 - Image.

You freak out as you send it, the picture of your tits in your mirror, and Satoru moans out loud at it. Yeah, he saw them, but fuck, you’re perfect, hair up in some messy bun, your glasses on the bridge of your pretty nose, little baby yoda plush front and center against your mirror, god it makes you even hotter. You’ve wrapped an arm under them, pressing them up and together.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

He’s throbbing now, looking down at his cock straining the terry cloth towel, scowling back at the phone, realizing he thinks you have put some spell on his perfect cock. Are you some witch disguised as a sweet little thing!? He eyes your tits again, almost whining at how pretty they look, at how badly he’d love to fuck you between them, cum all over them.

He’d cum on every inch of your body.

🌽🌟 Satoru - You’re so perfect.

You’re covering your face, sighing as his words - probably just being nice - are too much, they mean too much from him. You’re questioning everything you are and everything you’ve ever known, throbbing with need from his mere words, nipples aching for his touch. You look back at the phone, fingers hovering on the cool dark screen, shaking slightly.

Good Girl🫦 - You still on set?

🌽🌟 Satoru - Unfortunately. That brightened my day. My cock is smiling, you know.

You snort at that.

Good Girl🫦 - You’re silly. I’ll let you get back to work.

He doesn’t want to get back to work.

He wants you on the set, but fuck if he’d let anyone else touch you if you were his-

Wait.

What fucking kind of thought is this!?

He doesn’t think that way.

Looking at your picture again, he rushes back out, trying his very best to keep up the tentative erection, he can’t manage to get involved however, touching skin that’s not yours seems wrong somehow. You’re not together - he doesn’t date, he can’t date - but he can’t stay away from thoughts of you here instead, and how he’d film just the perfect video with you instead.

You would never, but the porn he imagines you two could make is what feeds his brain for the next twenty minutes or so, he tries to let the other men fuck her, as he lets her jerk him, or suck him, shutting his eyes and picturing the tits on his screen. He doesn’t even know if he’ll be able to cum, finally settling to jerk himself, when they’re all putting the money shot on the star.

He wants to cum all over your pretty face, god. He vividly sees it as his ropes of cum pour out, and he notices with relief the shoot is over. Usually he would have some friendly banter, but he’s distant, odd as he cleans up, it feels like he’s so uninvolved, even that night he’s staring at your pretty tits again, cock in his hand when you’ve messaged him.

Good Girl🫦 - Sweet dreams, Satoru.

Fuck.

He wants you in his bed so bad, but not just to finally fuck into your perfect little pussy, shit it would be nice to hold you. He’s never done that. To just kiss on you and watch your cute reactions, the little giggles you make. His cock throbs in response, since when has Satoru became someone to masturbate to a fucking photo?

You’re laying there, hating the thoughts in your mind, that he was with someone else today - but you’re friends. Friends with some ‘lessons’ that should not mean as much as they did the other day, not just the pleasure, or how badly you want him inside you, no it was his sweet kisses, him brushing your hair, fuck he fed you and made sure you were okay constantly.

You just want him, any of him.

Cruel, cruel joke - making you fall for a pornstar who will never date. But, here you are, watching three dots move now.

🌽🌟 Satoru - Good night, sweetheart.

The LOVE on chap one is insane for me, I am so glad you all love it! Taglist is closed bc it's too much but I'll keep everyone updated!! <3 I hope you enjoy I can't waittt to hear your thoughts hehe

Taglist 1 - @rjreins @juicu @kalulakunundrum @gojoswaterbottle @aldebrana @simp-plague @wedojustbevibin @lucciferr0 @officialholyagua @privthemis @coffee-and-geto @homesickes @msniks @emi311 @mai-505 @gojoslovelylover @ren-ren23 @yihona-san06 @emochosoluvr @sylvermoon @bunheadusa @karvokr @starmapz @queenexplosonmurderr @musiclover2119 @saitamaswifey @reagan707 @midorissi @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @itsinherited @maisiefrancesca @gyarubunny @theonlyhonoredone @chosslut @simperisksksk @xlilycoco @howlsdarling @femaholicc @maymaymarch @miseryyouth-99 @swoozleee @zeunys @cryingdevil @leafynightmares @princess-bblgm @gojosconsort @insomnicshello @joonunivrs @myahfig4 @silviscosplay

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: I'm sorry lmaooo nine months... hopefully we can finish this thing!

You land hard, elbows hitting the ground with a jolt of pain, but it’s nothing compared to the realization that someone is screaming—Blue is screaming. The heat in your veins fizzles, your heart jolting. Ghost has already sped off toward camp, pulling a knife from his ankle, and you scramble to your feet to follow.

Your movements are clumsy, your mind replaying the last few seconds, searching for any signs of trouble you might have missed. The air is clear, the trees are quiet, the ground is still. Yet, as you weave through the tall grasses that swipe at your ankles, you finally hear it—muffled voices, unmistakably human. They grow sharper with each step you take. 

Ghost reaches camp first, stopping in a lethal stance. You roll in just behind him, eyes snapping to where Blue stands behind the fence, alive and aiming one of her dad’s rifles at four strangers. Still dressed in an oversized sleep shirt, she juts the rifle through a gap in the fortification. Two of the strangers are mounted on a brown horse, while the other two flank their sides, backs swollen with rucksacks and chests thick with gear. There is no doubt they have weapons.

"D-don't come any closer or I'll blow your heads off! I mean it!"

“We’re not here to hurt you,” one of them says calmly. A man.

“I don’t care why you’re here! You need to leave before my dad…” Her eyes flicker to you. “Dad!”

When their heads turn in your direction, you waste no time arching the knife over your head. You’re not much without your bow, but this is all you have.

In a split second, your eyes land on the burliest of the group, a man with a boonie hat and a dense, brown beard. He was the one speaking. The leader, maybe. You aim the knife for his head, but before you can throw it, Ghost grabs your wrist, wrenching you to his chest without warning, the knife falling to the ground.

"Wait," he says in your ear, his breath steady against your skin. There’s a detectable lilt of surprise in his voice. You try to squirm free, but he holds tight. "Stay here."

He lets go. Confusion reels through you. Everything in you screams to pick up the knife, but you hesitate as Ghost signals for Blue to lower the gun.

He calmly walks over to the intruders, heading to the man you were aiming for. The air feels thick as you watch with parted lips, stance still readied and breath racing. Ghost stops in front of him, and the two stare at each other strangely before the man smiles.

A strong hand reaches for Ghost’s shoulder.

“It’s good to see you, Simon.”

The clanking of metal against ceramic plates and the low murmurs of a fire fill the cabin.

Your spine presses into the wall.

There isn’t a free chair at the table, but you’re not sure you’d sit in one even if there was. Blue stands beside you, hands laced in front of her. She’s silent. You are, too. The cabin feels cramped with seven people in it. It makes your skin itch. 

You can inspect them more thoroughly now that you’re not thinking about who to kill first. 

There are two men—the older one you believe Ghost called Price, and a younger one you think he called Kyle. He’s fine-looking, you figure, underneath the overgrowth of facial hair and grime smudged on his dark skin. He had a tan cap on earlier but now a head of short, black hair is free for him to slick fingers through every now and then. Then there is a woman, some years older than you. She’s beautiful in a raw, Grecian sort of way, with long black hair and a violet undertone to her skin. Lastly, a boy, maybe twelve or thirteen. It doesn't take much to discern he is related to Kyle in some way.

They all look starving, though not as much as you once were. Nevertheless, Ghost is feeding them more than scraps. Canned beans, rice, and rabbit. They shovel it into their mouths. The men have muscles on them, so they can’t have been struggling much. Based on all the supplies they carry and the horse tied to a tree outside, you’ve figured they’ve been traveling for some time. A flurry of questions runs through your brain, but your lips remain in a tight line.

Ghost hasn’t said much yet. He hasn't even explained who they are. Your slitted eyes flicker to him. While the strangers fill up the table, he hovers beside it. His body speaks more than his expression. His shoulders are not tense and lethal as they'd been when you first sat at that table scarfing down food. But they're not relaxed, either; his arms crossed, still exposed from the black tee he'd put on for training, giving way to the slight flexes in his corded muscles that signal even he is thrown off by their presence. 

But he trusts them enough to let them in here. With the way they carry themselves, and the fact that Ghost hasn't killed them, they must've been in the military together. He doesn't seem like the type to have had normal friends. 

Kyle speaks first.

He thrums the pads of his fingertips against the wood and clears his throat, breaking your thoughts. "We were hoping you'd still be here, but it was a shot in the dark."

"I’ve never left," Ghost says, plainly.

Kyle sips from his mug and wipes his mouth, then his eyes shift toward you. You meet his gaze with a hardened look. 

"We're sorry for scaring you."

It takes a moment to realize his words aren't for you. Blue glances to her toes. "I wasn't scared." 

His lips lift. "Of course not. It's us who should've been scared of crossing paths with Simon Riley's kid. You did the right thing, you know. Protecting yourself."

"I didn't realize you knew my dad." She nibbles her lip and looks up. "My name is Blue, by the way. And this is..." Her eyes flick to you. "My friend, Twix."

Your tongue pokes your cheek as you look over the new faces. What are you supposed to say? 

"Hi," is all you settle on.

Ghost clears his throat. "Kid, why don't you clean some more water for them."

Blue nods dutifully, lingering only a second before pouring more river water into the pot over the fire.

"Thank you for your kindness. We haven't had a warm meal like this in days," the woman says kindly.

"It's a strong setup you've made for yourself," Price speaks, one hand stroking his beard while he pushes the cleared plate away with the other. He leans back, boonie hat still cradling his head and casting a shadow over his eyes, but you catch a glimpse of warm brown irises that might've comforted you in any other circumstance.

"It's lasted me this long." Ghost shifts his weight slightly. "Where are you coming from?"

"Near the base by the border, further north."

"Last I heard you were in Manchester."

"Once the radios went out, we picked up my wife," he touches the woman's shoulder, "Nereida, and Kyle's nephew here, Ari, from Newcastle. Made camp with a few others. Served us well for the past five years."

Ghost slowly nods and then drawls, "And Soap?”

Price leans his forearms on the table. "Not quite sure. The base was falling apart, but he stayed back, saying he'd meet up with us once he could. That was five years ago."

You're not sure who Soap is, someone else they worked with, maybe. There is a brief pause before Ghost asks, "Why did you leave?"

"More and more of 'em, Simon," Price replies with a slight shake of his head, emitting a low breath. "Made it difficult to even get food."

"Too many of them, not enough of us," Nereida murmurs distantly. Her hand slips under the table, out of view. You imagine it resting on Price's thigh as she leans into him with a weighted sigh. "They always seem to be moving. Not with a destination in mind, of course, but it was only a matter of time before they ruined our setup. We decided to leave before that could happen."

Kyles adds, "It wasn't an easy decision, but living in anticipation of the worst isn't really living at all."

Your brows lower. “Where exactly could you be headed that wouldn't mean living in anticipation of the worst?” you can't stop yourself from asking, the question burning in your mind. 

Price leans back, those warm brown eyes finding yours. A short heartbeat passes before he answers simply, "Switzerland."

The absurdity of that single word response forces a disbelieving, chuffed breath through your nose. Of all the things this stranger could have said, that would have to be the least expected. You anticipate an equally surprised reaction from Ghost, but he seems unnervingly unfazed. Blue, however, swivels her head from where she sits cross-legged in front of the fire.

"What the fuck is Switzerland?"

"It's another country," the boy—Ari—answers.

Blue glances between him and her dad. "Like... not in England?"

Ari snorts softly. "No, not in England. It's across the channel."

"The channel?" Blue frowns. "That's... far, isn't it?"

"Very far," Nereida confirms with a nod.

The subject is brusquely dropped when Ghost reaches for their cleared plates. "You must want to bathe while you're here. There's a river nearby."

Price clears his throat. "These two can go first." He gestures to the woman and child.

Soon enough, you become irritatingly aware of what's happening; you're being shooed away, along with the kids and Nereida, so the three of them can speak privately. There isn't much room to object as you shuffle out of the cabin, carrying a handful of rags for them to wash with along with the homemade soap that you once used to wash away the grime and earth that caked up from traveling. 

The sun beats hard, the river warmer now that spring has aged. Dried sweat clings to your spine from this morning, but bathing yourself is the last thing on your mind now, not when you're still reeling in the presence of people you don't know. You swing a glance at the cabin behind your shoulder, something in your gut twisting. Ghost doesn't want you there to hear whatever they're talking about. 

"This is a good spot," Blue says, stopping in front of a shallow part of the bank where the water is warmest. She hands Ari some soap and teeters on her toes. You realize why she keeps staring at him like that; he's probably the only other kid she's met in years. She is even more shy than when she first met you. "Twix and I will look away, don't worry."

You and Blue sit perched on a rock as they wash themselves. 

"This is weird," she admits quietly to you.

"Very," you mumble.

When they're done, you offer Nereida the only clean clothes you have at the moment: one of the oversized shirts Ghost gave you and some jeans. An annoyingly strange thought brandishes your brain... you don't like the way the black fabric sits on her bare chest, nipples poking through, and the hem hanging down to her knees as it does on you. You should've just given her the dirty blouse to wear.

She sits at the edge of the river, wringing her soaked hair with a rag. From the corner of your eye, you catch Blue helping Ari rinse his dirty clothes in the water. You want to keep an eye on him; your knife is still nestled around your ankle in case they try anything, though a woman and preteen don't heighten your paranoia as much. 

"How long have you two been together?"

Her soft voice makes you blink. "What?"

"You and Simon."

You're confused until you recall the revelation from earlier—the man you've known the past few months as Ghost, the one whose hard form laid beneath you just hours ago, is actually Simon. Simon Riley. You're tempted to say the name; try it out. But it is hard to reconcile with. It might taste strange on your tongue. The name fits a version of him that doesn't exist in this world now, you suppose. British. Simple. Like John or Kyle. The name of a lieutenant. The bits of his face you've witnessed crosses your mind; his nose, lips, and chin seem like Simon. The damn mask is Ghost, though.

"Jesus... I am not—" You shake your head, the sun even hotter on your neck. "I'm not with him like that. We're just allies." You glance back at the cabin in the distance and you fight a scowl. "If that."

She runs her fingers through ravenous tendrils. "Oh. I apologize for assuming."

You offer a small smile. "It's fine."

"How long have you been staying here then?"

"Um, a few months now. I used to stay with my sister and a friend, but they died."

Her eyes soften. "I'm sorry for your loss."

You shrug. "Everyone has lost important people."

"Doesn't make it easier," she says. "Ari's mom and younger sister used to be with us," she adds quietly with a solemn downward cast of her eyes, as if a memory has taken her for a moment. "They passed two years ago during a really rough winter along with this other couple we knew. Then it was just the four of us."

You inhale through your nose and release, frowning. "No child should have to experience that."

"No," she agrees, nodding. "They shouldn't. Which is why we're looking for a better life for him."

"And you think you'll find it in... Switzerland."

Nereida offers a half-smile, as if reading your thoughts. "We'd heard of a commune there, up in the mountains."

"A commune? Like what, a town?" 

"Sort of. Just... more people, living together. Protected. Greys make awful climbers, and the mountains there are much higher than anything in the UK."

This catches your attention, and the divot between your brows deepens. "How do you know it exists?"

"Well, we can't know for certain. John heard about it at the beginning of the spread, but it was too difficult to make arrangements at the time, especially when he had to help out at the medical site and then come find me. Things were a mess, I'm sure you remember."

"Yeah, I do." You reel in her words, thinking. "That was... years ago, though. Aren't you taking a huge risk going there now? What if nothing is there?"

"Staying in England would be a risk, too," she counters. "There is nothing here except death and hardship. You can't hide from it forever."

You look down at the water. Cicadas fill your ears, the buzzing drowning out your voice. "No, you can't."

You go on a hunt that afternoon, itching for some space to breathe. Deer tracks are harder to spot without the snow, but you find the unmistakeable marks of antlers against a tree and follow them. You glance around the forest. It feels endless and like a cage at the same time. Which way did they come from? If they made it to camp by morning, that means they spent the night here somewhere. You don't like the idea that others could be so close by, like that car.

The sun has turned orange by the time a healthy doe skirts in your peripherals. You stalk it behind an oak. An arrow flies from your bow, but you miss; the deer flees. You return in the dark empty-handed. No doubt, the visitors are fatigued, with Ghost already setting blankets across the cabin's floor for them to sleep on. You offer Ari the couch, figuring an exhausted kid needs it more than you do. He knocks out the moment he lays down.

"Here. For the night." Ghost offers you a heavy blanket and nods to the only bare spot of floor left after they've all settled down. 

You avoid his eyes and accept it. The moment he's disappeared to his room, you slip outside under the starlit night, finding the flattest patch of ground to lay the blanket down, which happens to be only a few paces away from a sleeping horse. It's not the couch, but it'll do for a night or two, and you refuse to sleep in the shed again. 

You're in the midst of standing back up after straightening out your makeshift bed when you bump into something solid. A hand grips your bicep and whirls you around, a pair of darkened eyes glowering down at you.

"What are you doing?" you breathe up at him. "I don't like when you grab me like that."

"What are you doing?" he retorts, voice low and hard.

"Trying to get some sleep."

"Out here?"

You look away and shimmy out of his hold. "Does it matter where I sleep?"

"It's not safe out here."

"You had no problem sending me out here before."

"You have since earned your keep," he mutters, as if annoyed you're even mentioning the past. 

"My spot is taken for the night by your lovely friends, so for however long you plan to let them stay, I will sleep out here."

"There is a spot on the floor for you inside."

"I'm not sleeping in there." With them. 

The whites of his eyes flash as he darts his gaze over your face. His tone softens perceptibly. A mere breath. "They won't hurt you, Twix."

You roll your eyes away from him. "I would just rather sleep out here by myself, okay? I prefer solitude at my most vulnerable. And it's not like my experiences with militant men have been pleasant so far." You keep your tone neutral, but a chill touches your spine at the memory.

Ghost emits a low huff. He suddenly rips the blanket from the ground and turns his back to you. "What are you doing?" you gape at him.

"You'll take my bed," he throws over his shoulder.

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty-one —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3.5k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: I'm sorry lmaooo nine months... hopefully we can finish this thing!

The last bed you laid in smelled like lemon mint detergent. It was the full bed in your sister's guest room. Everything was crisp and white. They rarely had guests besides you. Some of your clothes stayed in that closet, one of your toothbrushes stayed in the connected bathroom, waiting for your visits. You'd awaken that last morning not thinking you'd never sleep in bed for another five years. You left it unmade.

This bed smells like pine and warmth.

Ghost's room is small and dimly lit. The ceiling slants so that one end is not tall enough for him to fully stand. There's a dresser and a nightstand, leaving only a sliver of floorspace.

After the metal latch on the door clicks shut, Ghost lays the blanket down and grabs a pillow for himself. That leaves the bed to you. Springs creak beneath your weight as you silently slip under a heavy, rustic quilt. The years-embedded scent of him wraps around you like a drug-induced fog. You hesitate to move, frozen as he flicks off the light. You wonder if he always locks the door or did it for you, to make you feel safer.

Only when his moving about ceases do you allow yourself to get comfortable. You cocoon your body under the quilt and turn to your side, closing your eyes.

A thought reopens them minutes later. You roll onto your back and speak into the darkness. "Have you known about this Switzerland place?"

For a moment, you think he's already asleep. Then, from below the bed by your feet, he says, "Heard of it."

"That is what you guys talked about, isn't it?" you ask absentmindedly.

"Among other things."

You sit up so you can see him, but all that you can make out is a dark shadow. "Care to share?"

"Some things are on a need-to-know basis," is all he gives.

"And I don't need to know?"

"Precisely."

It stings; you don't know why. "Some team we make, huh? Or I guess we're only a team when you need me to do something for you."

You quickly realize how petulant you must sound. The shadow sits upright. "They asked me to go with them. I said no. Too far. Too many variables that are hard to predict, and she's not ready for them. Happy?"

Happy—no, but relief replaces the slight uncertainty in your gut since your conversation with Nereida. Joining them was shut down. You wouldn't tell her, but their idea sounds asinine, whether or not that commune exists. The trip will be risky at best, fatal at worst. You're tempted to ask him how many days he thinks they'll recoup here before continuing their journey, but opt for sleep instead. He seems done with the conversation, too, lying back down. Then, you have the best sleep you've had in years in his bed.

When the sun turns pink, you awaken to a room void of Ghost. He's gone. It should be expected, but you'd thought he might wake you up to train like normal. Though, the past twenty-four hours haven't been normal. You look around, the details of his room more visible now. On the nightstand, there is a stack of books and you scan the titled spines. Mostly classics. One Hemingway. All tattered and read frequently. Beside them lays a silver chain attached to a dog tag. You gently finger the engraved metal so as not to move it out of place: Simon Riley. 

Snooping through his things is more tempting than you're willing to admit. You slip out of bed, socked feet padding over to the dresser. There are mostly papers. His map with the marked circle around what you now realize is Switzerland, a notepad with scribbled half-cursive on it, and then a faded photo beneath it. You freeze, breath hitching, as if you've done something dangerous just by stumbling upon it. Curiosity is thick in your chest, difficult to ignore. Gentle fingers reach to shift it out, revealing a picture that you know right away is of Blue and her mom. Blue is a baby. Maybe one year old. A woman with light brown hair holds her up, sitting on a bench in front of a playground. She's pretty and young. There is a sadness when you wonder if this is the only picture he has of them—before her death. Then, there is another feeling. You swallow it. 

You quickly slip the photo back just the way you found it and leave the room. The living room is quiet, people still sleeping. Price and Kyle's blankets are empty, but Kyle is the only one you spot outside. He sits on a tree stump, using a knife and some soap to shave his beard. He looks at you the moment you step outside.

"Good morning." He splashes a scoop of water on his smoothed jaw. 

You tuck your hands in your pockets. "Morning."

Without the facial hair, he looks even younger. Maybe in his early thirties. He pushes to his feet and you are reminded of his above-average height, though he is not as monstrous as Ghost. His form is lean, all muscle, with much less ink on his exposed skin. It is now you notice a scar across his jaw. Thick but faded. It trails halfway down his neck.

"Do you know where Ghost went?" you ask.

"Working on that truck of his. With Price."

A glance over your shoulder confirms it; you spot some movement behind the cabin where you know his truck sits. Guess that means no training. You nod. "So, um, you were in the military together, right?"

He takes a moment to look at you before answering. "Yeah. Same unit. Price was our captain."

"I kind of figured. He is... captain-y."

"'Captain-y.' Good way of putting it."

You're ready to turn away when he asks, "I hate to pry, but I admit I'm curious how you ended up here with him."

You force a smile. "It's not a very interesting story, sorry."

"I'm not looking for entertainment."

"What are you looking for, then?" You sound more defensive than you mean to. 

He shrugs. "Just curious, is all. You're a bit young."

"I'm not fucking him if that's what you're getting at." His brows lift to his hairline, and you're almost embarrassed for assuming that is what he was thinking, but before he can speak you add, "And you're young, too. I can handle myself just as you can."

"Of course." He shakes his head, moving his hand over his chest in earnest. "I apologize if I insinuated otherwise. Though, I am older than you."

"How old?"

"Let's see. Thirty-one last November. Or maybe it's just thirty. Hard to keep track, innit?" His smile is more genuine than yours, flashing white teeth. Then, his face turns more serious and he sighs through his nose, head tilting. "Look, I understand."

"Understand what?"

"I don't know your story, but I'm sure it is a gruesome one, and you have every right to feel uncomfortable. We'll be out of your hair soon enough. I appreciate you having us, though."

You want to tell him it's not like you have a choice; you're not the host here. But he already knows that. He's trying to be nice. "Thank you," you tell him honestly. 

Kyle bends to pick up his knife, wiping it off on his shirt. "So what did you need Ghost for?"

"Oh, nothing really."

"Care to accompany me for some breakfast, then?"

You consider saying no, but you need to hunt, anyway. Besides, you don't think he'd try anything in broad daylight. In another life, you may have looked at him with a more appreciative eye. But as you wade in silence through the woods, bow cinched to your back, you study him like an opponent. He's more agile than Ghost, likely quicker. When he crests the hill, it's hard to match his strides. 

Small conversation picks up by the pond and you find yourself easing up. You learn he's from London, too.

"What part?"

"Islington. I shared an apartment with my girlfriend. The rent was shit but it was worth it. Top floor loft with a good view and this insane Turkish bakery just below us." His tone is so casual you forget where you are for a second, until he suddenly throws his knife. It pins a squirrel to one of the trees. He bends to dislodge it and carries the dead animal, blood on his fingers. 

You keep walking. "What happened to her?"

"I had to make a choice. Go to London and find her, or go with Price and get my nephew, niece, and sister-in-law."

The understanding hits with the force of a fallen tree, and you pale. 

He notices your expression and continues. "I don't regret my decision. I've come to terms with it. There was no chance of me finding her in London, not with how quickly the infection spread there and the phone lines went out. I didn't even know where to look for her. At work? Home? Up north, things weren't as bad yet. I got in contact with my sister-in-law, Ameena, and told her to meet us at the small college up there where Nereida worked."

You recall what Nereida said, about Ari's mom and sister dying, so you don't pry about them. "What about your brother? Ari's dad?"

"He died before shit happened. He was in the military, too. Different unit. Multiple gun wounds while in Afghanistan a few years back."

"I think your story is more gruesome than mine," you admit.

His lips twitch ruefully. "Not a competition. Gruesome world, gruesome stories."

A more comfortable quiet settles. He is not so different than you, you realize. Only difference is he still has his nephew to look after.

The sun is already high, enough to make a collar of sweat appear on your shirt. There is a small dirt ridge you have to climb and the effort reminds you of the still-healing bruises on your body. A skirt of movement catches your eye and this time, you act quick. You use your bow to kill a squirrel up on a branch. It falls to the ground.

"Damn." Kyle whistles, low and long, as you wriggle the arrow free. "Hell of an aim you got."

"I'm... alright."

"No need to be modest."

You straighten and wipe your bloodied hand on your shirt. The movement lifts it, and you hear him suck in a breath behind you. A hand touches your shoulder, gentle than firm, as he spins you around. You're confused, then follow his gaze to the sliver of exposed skin on your hip. It's a gross yellow. 

"Twix." His voice lowers, and his friendly eyes are confused. 

Shit. "It's not whatever you're thinking."

"I'm thinking someone has put their hands on you." He frowns and shifts closer. "I know you have no reason to tell me things, but I can tell you I am not okay with that shit, no matter who it is."

You inwardly cringe. "Ghost is not... hitting me. Well, he is—"

"Fucking hell—"

"No, no. I asked him to." The bewildered look on his face makes you palm your forehead. "Not like that. Jesus. We train together, okay?"

"Train together," he repeats, shoulders loosening. 

"Yeah, like to help me get stronger." The embarrassment remains on your cheeks. "It's silly, really."

Kyle shakes his head and grins, clearly amused now that he knows you're not being abused against your will. "Not silly. Thought you two were into some kinky shit for a second there." He continues walking over a patch of dryer land, stepping onto a small rock and chuffing a breath under his nose. "Wouldn't have been surprised."

Your fingers absentmindedly tighten around the squirrel's limp neck. Your feet are frozen for a moment as you shake off a deep blush, then call out behind him. "Did you miss the part where I said I'm not fucking him!"

He simply laughs. 

---

The rest of the day passes in languid warmth. 

It's weird having so many people here, but you try to continue your day like usual, skinning the kill and washing your clothes. You learn more about Nereida as you eat together. You haven't had a female friend in... a long time. Save Blue. She used to be an arts professor at a private school. Sculpting, mainly. That is how she came to meet John Price, when he attended one of her galleries, buying a piece from her for far more than the listing price. He was just looking for a way to take me out to dinner. The way she speaks of him is that of a doting wife, despite everything they've been through. She tells you they were engaged before the infection. A makeshift ceremony at their old camp was the best they could do. 

"No wedding ring, but we do both have this." She pulls up her sleeve to show you a small scar carved on her shoulder—a faint letter 'J'. Price has the 'N'.

You're not sure what Ghost needed to fix on his truck that morning, or why it was important to do it with Price, but when you returned with Kyle, something felt off. Ghost's tension was palpable. He usually seems in thought, but even more-so. When Ari takes Blue for a quick ride on the horse—apparently Cherry used to be owned by his parents on their family ranch in Newcastle—he watches for only a minute before disappearing somewhere with Price. You pretend to need something from the cabin. You sneak around the back way, finding them again by his truck, muttering in low voices. Only pieces reach your ears.

"...through the rural parts. Not a straight path..."

"...could take months..."

"Got quite a bit of those."

Then, he's showing Price something under the tuck bed's tarp where you catch sight of that kayak once again. 

"Find it?"

A low voice in your ear. You startle and turn around.

"Huh?"

Kyle raises a brow. "You said you needed something."

Your hand flattens against the side of the cabin. "Right. Um, I just—"

Boots scuffle behind you. You don't need to turn to know Ghost and Price have detected your presence, making their way over. Kyle's gaze flicks to them and you feel like a child who's been caught by her parents—embarrassment laced over your irritation. You wouldn't have been eavesdropping if they weren't so secretive.

"Everything alright?" Price's timbre is calm. Your neck prickles where you feel Ghost's stare.

You find yourself nodding. "Yes. Just fine. Sorry."

It gets cooler by nightfall. Your knee bounces slightly under the table during dinner. You listen to Blue explain the rules of battleship to Ari. You don't eat much more of the meat you caught with Kyle. With a mostly empty stomach, you enter Ghost's room after everyone else has gone to bed. His broad form hovers over his dresser. For a moment, you fear he's somehow noticed that you looked at his things earlier. But then you realize his eyes are glued to the map, and he's penciling some things on the margins.

He looks up when you close the door behind you. His brows are deeply knotted. 

"Figured you would be sleeping out there for tonight."

"What?"

"Seems like you feel just fine around them now." 

He looks away from you as if you're not even there. He places the map down and opens the top drawer. Without warning, he pulls out a clean shirt and changes, revealing his bare chest. His shoulders flex as he slips it over his head by the collar. Then, he moves toward you, eyes dully expectant.

"Being asleep near them is different than hanging out during the day," you finally respond. Mouth feeling dry, you swallow. "What's going on? I can tell that you... you've been thinking about something."

"You mean you've been listening." His brow lifts. He shakes his head before you can defend yourself. "I am always thinking about something."

"Would it kill you to not be cryptic for once? I thought that we were..."

"That we were what?"

"Being honest with each other now."

A dark, slightly amused breath leaves his nose. He contemplates your words for a moment. "It is my plan to go there," he then says. "I'm not stupid. I know she needs more than what I can offer her here. It has always been my plan. Just not now."

"Because she's not ready," you breathe.

"Because she's not ready," he repeats, chin tilting. His eyes darken, veering to the left. "Price seems to disagree."

Your nails curl in your palms. "And?"

He looks back at you. "And I am thinking of your camp. What happened to you. I can't grow complacent."

The mention unsettles your stomach. Of course, he needn't elaborate, not when the memory is more fresh than you'd like. "But going to Switzerland would take days, weeks. And they have no idea what they might run into out there. It's not like we have inside info on the state of France and—and wherever the hell else we'd have to cross through to get there. They could be worse than London."

"I'm aware."

"So what, then? You're considering it now? I thought you told them no," your hushed voice edges a bit harsher, and the pulse in your neck quickens.

You hate what you think he's saying, even if you understand it. He has his daughter's future to think of. Even if he were to try finding some safe community when she's older, the opportunity of traveling with two other military-experienced men would be gone, along with whatever weapons and supplies they bring to the table.

The contemplation is vivid in his eyes as you study them. Ghost's head lowers, dipping down at the same time that he emits a harsh breath, and you realize how close the two of you have become in this quiet exchange, keeping your voices safe from any awakened ears. So close, in fact, that his exhalation hits the space between your neck and collarbones, where a small patch of skin tingles with alertness. 

His voice emerges low and thoughtful after a drawn moment. "I haven't fully decided."

You nod with deep breath to steady yourself, taking in his answer. "Will you tell me when you do?" 

"I can do that."

And that's all he offers—four words that give a minuscule amount of comfort, because now bitter uncertainty has snuck upon you once again. Your fate lays in his decision. You can't survive on your own, not even here, so if he leaves you have to go with him. The impending doom fogs your brain. You fail to notice his hand has moved, pinching the hem of your shirt between thumb and forefinger, and beginning to carefully lift it up. A breath hitches at the top of your throat and your eyes unfurl, only to find that he is pensively looking down at your exposed stomach.

"What the fuck are you—"

You're cut off when his bent knuckles gently brush over your mottled abdomen, sweeping down the sore midline, leaving you frozen. It's a thoughtful, slow touch—calloused skin against smooth softness. His thumb traces a particularly bad one by your hip, causing your muscles to flutter as a pleasant heat blossoms. For the second time today, your bruises are under scrutiny, and you curse yourself for not applying more of that paste on them.

"They're healing well," he murmurs, more to himself than to you, and lowers the shirt back down. He steps back. Eyes find yours. "Don't get too comfortable."

You blink dazedly, then stiffen. "Um, what?"

"Sleeping in my bed. My room isn't a hotel."

The change of topic gives you whiplash. "You're the one who made me sleep here," you remind him pointedly. "I'll just take the floor tonight, and you have the bed."

"You're a woman. Take it."

"As if you give a fuck about being a gentleman."

"You're right, I don't." A dismissive shoulder shrugs, then his back turns to you. He lays in the bed before you have the chance to even move, which leaves the blanket on the floor for you.

You should've just accepted the bed.

Once the room is shrouded in darkness, you bury your head in the pillow. 

"Comfortable?" he says sarcastically above you.

"Fuck off."

Then it's silent. You don't sleep nearly as well.

The Red Lord (Chapter 2 of 2)

On the hills above your village stands a magnificent but supposedly cursed castle where the mysterious Red Lord lives. Lord Sukuna is a man of breathtaking beauty. Too beautiful. Rumors claim that there is something wrong with him. But what happens when an accident makes you end up in the care of that mysterious man? Will you uncover the truth about him?

Chapter 1

Pairing: Vampire!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: Vampire AU, gothic fairytale, smut, fluff Word Count: 8k Warnings: 18+, Sukuna is a vampire, blood, mentions of murder and death, mentions of past domestic violence and abuse (NOT from Sukuna! But Reader's father, brother, and the man she was promised to didn't treat her well), smut, virginity loss, fingering, oral, creampie. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

As much as the evening in the rose garden and the tender kisses distracted you, you can't stop thinking about the villagers' accusations. Their words play over and over in your head.

Three men were killed.

But what do you know about what has happened down in the village? No one mentioned any names of the victims. For all you know, it could be anyone. There is no evidence that it is connected to you. So why should you presume that the victims were the three men that had wronged you? And why should you assume Lord Sukuna had anything to do with that?

The burn marks on his hand? A foolish mind could interpret them as proof that Lord Sukuna is a vampire. You remember how he didn't fully step into the sunlight but stopped in the doorway. Only his left hand must have come into direct touch with the sunlight. But isn't this a bit far-fetched?

Maybe Lord Sukuna just burned himself on candle wax. That's a far more likely explanation.

It would be convenient to wrap yourself in sweet ignorance and pretend everything is fine.

But you can't ignore the voice of reason screaming at you that all those coincidences are very suspicious indeed. The part about Sukuna being a vampire is still too wild for you to allow it. But what about those mysterious deaths that have occurred?

You have to acknowledge that there could be a connection to you.

Three men posed a threat to you. Three men were killed.

You catch yourself watching Lord Sukuna more closely. Wondering if those strong hands that are so carefully handing you a crystal glass filled to the brim with red wine could be the hands of a murderer. Wondering if those glittering diamond eyes and the confident and handsome smile are hiding his true monstrous nature beneath a beautiful mask.

Is the man who took you in a monster after all?

But the thing is, you find that you don't care either way. Because isn't it all a question of perspective? When is a monster an actual monster? Generally speaking, you don't condone murder, of course. But is it still murder if it was done out of the wish to protect someone? You don't think so.

So that leads to a conviction: Even if Lord Sukuna is the one who killed those men who you assume were your father, brother, and future husband, that doesn't make him a monster in your eyes. To everyone else in your village, he might be. But to you, he is the brave man who ensured that the men harming you would never lay a hand on you again. So you could say Lord Sukuna is your hero. Your knight who slayed the dragon.

You don't mind that he has some strange habits or that the way he speaks is a bit odd sometimes, old-fashioned. It is probably because he never really comes into contact with other people. Lord Sukuna lives here alone with only a loyal servant at his proposal.

He seems to be a lonely man in self-inflicted isolation. You tell yourself you would feel guilty at the thought of saying farewell to him, and so you decide you will stay a while longer even though all your injuries have long healed.

And wouldn't you miss him too? Wouldn't you miss the inspiring book discussions the two of you hold? Or the way Sukuna's face lights up when he laughs at a joke you made? When he looks so devastatingly beautiful in the candlelight, it almost makes you cry?

Wouldn't you miss the sweet kisses he shares with you? Stolen kisses in the rose garden at night. Gentle and sweet, but with an ever-growing passion on Lord Sukuna's and your part. The lingering touches when you pass him in the doorway. A brush of his hand against yours in passing by. A strong arm that sneaks around your waist to guide you down the stairs. A smile and an intense look out of those gorgeous eyes that make the fluttery feeling in your stomach and chest intensify.

You would miss all of those things.

And so you stay. Even after that incident in the village and Lord Sukuna's possible connection to it, you stay.

The doubt remains, though. As crazy as you tell yourself it is to believe in such foolish tales as vampires, there are so many weird things about this place and about Sukuna that it's hard to ignore them.

But one particular incident makes you spin out of control.

Lord Sukuna brings you roses all the time. He puts them on your dinner plate or hands them to you with a smile and a soft kiss pressed to your cheek. Those roses from his garden are magnificent, red, and flawless. They never have any thorns.

Lord Sukuna told you that he asked Uraume to cut off the thorns so you won't hurt yourself on them. You always assumed he was just caring and thoughtful.

But then, one night, a single little thorn is left on a rose, and you prick yourself on it.

"Ouch!"

You gasp and lift your hand, inspecting the small cut, where a big drop of blood already wells up.

Lord Sukuna makes a strangled sound next to you. His eyes seem even redder suddenly, glimmering in an unnatural bright scarlet red as they stare at the thick drop of blood on your fingertip.

Before you can do anything, he grabs your hand and brings it to his lips. You can only watch in astonishment, and dawning horror as Sukuna's soft tongue flicks over your finger, licking up that drop of blood.

Your gaze meets his, and you can see a hunger in it that you have never seen before. So intense that it looks almost feral.

Those bright red eyes widen suddenly, and Lord Sukuna drops your hand and hastily takes a step back. Before you can process what is happening, he has already fled the room, and the dark wooden door falls shut behind him with a loud bang.

It's that incident with the rose that keeps you up for hours this night.

You have never seen Lord Sukuna like this. He usually is so calm and in control. So it seems strange to see him so distraught. The way his eyes were burning with hunger. Glowing red like never before. The way he had licked the blood off your finger. His hurried escape afterward. As if he wanted to hide something from you. Or as if he was scared, he did something bad...or would do something bad if he stayed near you.

You sit up with a gasp. Your head is spinning. It is time, you realize. Time to acknowledge those thoughts that have been haunting you for weeks.

What if vampires exist after all? What if you are living with one at the moment?

Suddenly you're filled with an unbearable restlessness, driven by the need to finally discover the truth.

Is there any base for those suspicions? Or are you just getting carried away by crazy thoughts and fantasies? You know what you need. Cold hard facts! More knowledge about this topic!

Only one floor beneath you is the vastest collection of books you have ever seen. So if there is a likely place to find more information about vampires, it will be there!

You are out of bed in seconds, not even bothering to put on shoes or wrap a cape around your shoulders to keep you warm. You just grab a candle holder and leave your room barefooted, only dressed in your thin nightdress.

The luxurious plush carpets feel soft under your feet as you rush through the long corridors and down the flight of stairs. The heavy wooden door closes softly behind you after you enter the spacious library.

You should start your search in the mythological section and then continue to go through the science section and look for medical encyclopedias.

You are so focused on your mission to find a book that will contain the information you seek that you don't see him until his low velvety voice drifts through the dimly lit room.

"Can't sleep, sweetheart?"

You almost drop the candle, your heart jumping to your throat as your head whips around to stare at the big red armchair Lord Sukuna is sitting on.

"L...Lord Sukuna! I am sorry for disturbing you!"

A lazy smirk spreads over his beautiful face, red eyes sparkling in amusement as he cocks his head and watches you curiously,

"Don't worry, darling. You can come here at any time of the day or night. This is your castle too. And I, for one, understand the nightly craving for information and the fantastic world books can offer us. I come here almost every night to read. Can I help you? Are you looking for anything specific?"

His glittering gaze holds yours for a long moment before slowly traveling down your body. Suddenly you become aware of the way you are dressed. Only standing in front of him in your thin nightdress that slips off your shoulders, sitting low on your breasts. Delicate white silk that is too thin for walking around at night at this time of year. 

Your nipples are stiff peaks because of the chilly temperatures, clearly visible through the thin material of your nightdress. You are sure that the snug fit of the dress does nothing to hide your body from Lord Sukuna's gaze.

Your free hand self-consciously tugs on one of the lacy straps, trying to pull it up over your shoulder.

"I... no, I am not looking for anything in particular. I just... I just need something to calm me down, I think. So I can find rest afterward."

The smirk on Lord Sukuna's pretty face turns even bigger, even more dazzling in its beauty. There is something in his eyes and in his voice, a certain sparkle, a specific timbre, that seems almost hypnotic, making you slowly walk towards him when he says,

"Then I have something for you, my dear. Come to me."

You are breathing too fast when you stop in front of the red armchair where Lord Sukuna is lounging, still in the formal and luxurious clothes he has been wearing the whole day. He took off his fine red velvet frock coat and draped it over the backrest of the armchair, allowing you a good look at his muscular figure in the red silk vest and white dress shirt he's wearing beneath it. His thighs in his red silk pants are spread slightly.

He looks gorgeous. Majestic, like a King sitting on his throne. A beautiful and powerful King. A man of such beauty that it makes your head spin.

He smiles at you, mouth opening wide enough to reveal his straight white teeth with the canines that are slightly too long, slightly too pointed.

"Let me read to you, my love. I am sure it will help you feel better. Come, sit."

Your mouth feels dry as you follow the movement of his elegant hand as he pats his muscular thigh, indicating unmistakenly where you should sit.

It's a scandalous offer. Highly inappropriate. Your heart is beating so fast, and you gulp hard. A decent woman would decline politely. It's what has been drummed into you ever since you were a young girl.

But you have left this old life behind. It's not like you haven't done worse things than sit on a man's lap. After all, you have shared many kisses with Lord Sukuna during the last few weeks.

Since he is here, you can't follow through with your plan of doing research anyways. So it won't hurt to spend a little time with him. Wouldn't it be suspicious if you turned down his offer?

And he is so beautiful, so tempting. You have never felt desire stir in your core when interacting with a man before. But Lord Sukuna makes something deep inside you feel so hot.

Before you can think too much about it, you quickly walk over to him and slip onto his lap.

After all, who is here to judge you? Who is here to call you a whore for sitting on a man's lap who isn't your husband? It feels oddly freeing to do this. To let go of all the guilt and strict rules forced upon you, which made you feel like a prisoner in an invisible cage.

Lord Sukuna's strong arms encircle you instantly. He takes the candle holder from you and puts it on the table beside his chair, and then those firm hands land on your waist, always holding you so securely in his arms, always making you feel so taken care of, so safe.

But tonight you aren't wearing several layers of clothes. Tonight there is only a thin layer of silk between your skin and Lord Sukuna's fingers. You can feel their coldness seep through the flimsy fabric, making goosebumps appear on your naked arms.

"Good girl. You don't have to be afraid."

He whispers, his voice as seductive as a caress.

"I am not afraid."

It's true. You aren't scared of him. Even though you came down here to research the possibility of him not being human. But as strange as it seems, you feel safe with Lord Sukuna.

Instinctively you snuggle into his arms, leaning against his broad chest, breathing in the luxurious and tantalizing smell of his perfume. A shy smile spreads over your face as you lift your head to look at him, caught in his spell, mesmerized by his beauty and strength.

He smiles back at you, and his strong hands tighten their hold on you, long fingers sprawling over your waist, thumbs caressing your sides gently. And you catch yourself craving more of his caresses, more of his touch, his kisses, his affection.

Your left hand lands on his firm chest, feeling his muscles even through the layers of expensive clothing. If there is a heartbeat underneath those clothes, you cannot feel it. But you find that you don't care.

You don't care if there is something unusual about Lord Sukuna. You don't care if he might not be human. If being this close to him feels so good even though it is supposed to be wrong, you are very willing to do the supposedly bad thing.

You are willing to let him taint you. To let him steal your innocence. You don't need it anymore. You left all that behind when you left your future husband, your cruel father, and your brother. It feels like for the first time you are truly alive. Truly living for yourself. Truly allowed to be yourself. To feel and to want and to desire.

And you desire him.

You want Sukuna, want to feel more of his muscular body, his firm but gentle touch, his kisses that are so sweet and addictive as if you ran right into one of those absinthe taverns your chaperon always warned you about.

He picks up the book he had been reading when you entered the library, opening it to the page he was currently on. There's a soft smile on his face as he begins to read to you,

"No man knows till he has suffered from the night how sweet and dear to his heart and eye the morning can be." 

You feel comfortable in his arms, resting your head on his broad shoulder and letting his low sultry voice lull you into a state of blissful drowsiness.

His long fingers are still sprawled over your waist, caressing you lightly through your thin nightdress.

You sigh and open your eyes to watch him. To bask in the beauty of his handsome face, the angular jawline, the high cheekbones. His sparkling jewel eyes focused on the page before him, his full lips moving so gracefully as he reads to you with that seductive voice that makes your heart flutter.

It doesn't take long for you to become bold and cup his beautiful cheek, distracting him from reading, and his pretty glittering gaze lands on you, raising an elegant eyebrow curiously.

His lips lift in a smile right before you cover them with yours.

The book falls from his hand, tumbling down and landing on the thick plush carpet with a soft thud.

But neither you nor Sukuna cares about that. Instead, his hand grabs the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as his lips move against yours, mouth opening to deepen the kiss. You sigh softly when his tongue brushes against yours when he lets you explore his mouth, licking and kissing, groaning when the tip of your tongue comes in contact with the sharp point of one of his canines.

Your breath comes out in soft huffs when the lord's cold lips trail down your neck, teeth grazing over your sensitive skin, making your hips buck involuntarily when his mouth closes over your pulse point, and he starts sucking.

Your fingers find Sukuna's soft reddish-pink hair, running through it, marveling at the way it feels like silk. You cannot get enough of the tingling sensation of his lips on your skin. A gasp fills the dimly lit library when Lord Sukuna's mouth travels further down your neck, leaving soft kisses on your exposed shoulders.

You let your head fall back, giving him better access, leaning back in his strong arms that hold you so safely.

His mouth travels to the low neckline of your silky nightdress, making you shudder in anticipation when Sukuna's kisses caress the curves of your breasts.

You press your chest against his mouth, eager for more. The thought of his lips on your body sends a surge of longing through you. You want more of him, want to give yourself to him in any way he wants.

And then Sukuna pulls the neckline of your nightdress down, freeing your breasts, and making them spill out against his beautiful face.

You whimper needily when his soft lips close around one of your stiff peaks, kissing it lovingly and gently pulling it into his silky mouth. He is suckling on it and flicking his velvety tongue over it in tender caresses that make your whole body tremble with desire.

You never thought this was how it feels to be with a man. All those tales about how it is a disgusting thing that no woman enjoys and only has to do for her husband to please him made you believe it would be bad. But what Lord Sukuna is doing to your body feels so good. Better than anything you ever could imagine in your wildest dreams.

Heat is throbbing between your legs, and you spread them unconsciously, opening them only to feel a wetness between them that you have never felt there before. So slick and hot, throbbing with such intense craving, it makes you gasp and squirm against Lord Sukuna's muscular thigh.

He laughs softly, where his face is buried between your breasts, loving them with soft kisses and licks. And then he pulls away only to capture your lips with his a moment later, meeting you again in a deep passionate kiss.

You kiss him back feverishly, naked breasts pressing against his chest, moaning at the feeling of his silk vest brushing over your sensitive flesh.

One of Lord Sukuna's large, firm hands slips under your nightdress, caressing your knee and slowly traveling upwards. He is so cold, like marble. But his hand stays on your thigh long enough to warm up against your skin until it feels like a human hand should feel.

Your pulse is racing, your head spinning as you let yourself get lost in Sukuna's sweet passionate kiss and the feeling of his strong body against you. You can feel a hardness press against your thigh where you are sitting on his lap, making you feel dizzy with need at the thought of what that means. He is affected by this too. He desires you just as you desire him. It's exhilarating.

And then Sukuna's now warm hand slips further under your nightdress, long fingers caressing your inner thighs, making more wetness coat your womanhood as your thighs begin to tremble.

You gasp loudly when that strong but gentle hand finally reaches your hot wet cunt. 

Your initial reaction is shame. Not because you don't desire his touch but because you are ashamed of how wet you are down there.

You don't know much about the act of sexual intercourse. But what you know so far made you believe firmly that men don't want to touch women down there. That they only use your cunt to bring pleasure to themselves, to sink their manhood deep into it and take what they need.

You try to close your legs, pushing Lord Sukuna's hand away as your face feels hot with shame. 

Sukuna stops, his hand lingering gently between your thighs, fingertips only a breath away from your throbbing heat. You feel his lips on your neck again, showering it with more tender kisses, and then his low voice murmurs soothingly against your skin,

"Don't be shy, my love. Please let me touch you. I want to make you feel good, want to spoil you, my pretty little dove."

"B... but isn't this dirty? You don't have to do this..."

He laughs softly against your skin, the vibrations of his laughter sending shock waves through your body, making pleasure pool even more between your legs.

"I want to touch you, darling. It's the biggest blessing you could grant me to let me touch you like this. May I?"

And you let out a shaky breath and nod, whispering,

"Y...yes, please touch me."

A sob escapes your mouth when his fingers slip back between your thighs, brushing gently over your wet folds, and then your hips buck as those loving fingers rub over a very sensitive part.

He is tender as his fingers travel lovingly over your cunt, gently spreading your lips down there and gathering your creamy wetness on his long fingers, rubbing it all over your folds while soft moans fall from your lips.

His fingers find that place again that makes you cry out in pleasure. He caresses slow loving circles around your swollen nub, making you moan and spread your legs for him, abandoning all earlier shame.

Suddenly you are bold. You want to do more. You want him to do everything a husband is supposed to do to you on your wedding night. You want him to claim you, to make you his, and push his manhood deep into your waiting cunt. No one else but Lord Sukuna should be gifted with your virginity.

"Please take me, Sukuna. I want to be yours, all yours."

There's a fire in his eyes, and his voice sounds rough, full of need as he flicks his thumb over your nub again, making you moan his name as he answers you,

"Then I'll make you mine, sweetheart."

He lifts you as if you are a mere feather. Carrying you over to his large wooden desk and carefully sets you back on your feet, letting you lean against the desk, your back to him. You are breathing heavily, your body brimming with pleasure and nervousness.

Before your nerves get the better of you, Sukuna's strong hands grab the thin fabric of your night dress, his fingers twisting in it, and then he rips the dress off your body in one powerful motion.

The dress slips to the floor, leaving you completely naked in front of The Red Lord. You gulp hard, knowing that his hungry gaze must be traveling over your bare skin right now.

"You are so beautiful, my love. And all mine."

A gentle kiss is pressed to the back of your neck, making you shudder with need, and then you hear the rustling of clothes.

You can't stop yourself from looking over your shoulder, wanting to see him. He is already naked.

He looks like an angel, so glorious and breathtakingly beautiful. Firm defined muscles everywhere, strong arms, and a broad chest. And even down there, he is gorgeous. His cock is thick and long, already erect, resting heavily against the defined muscles of his abdomen.

A dazzling smile blooms on his handsome face when he catches you looking at him. And then he is with you again, stepping behind you, so close that his tall body brushes against your back.

You tremble lightly as his strong hands land on your hips, holding you as he begins to kiss your neck once again. You sigh, relaxing against him, feeling your cunt pulse with arousal, craving him so much that you fear you will pass out.

But Sukuna is there to take care of you, strong and firm behind you, one hand on your hip, the other cupping one of your breasts, massaging it gently, playing with your stiff nipple. And he presses his body against you, his thick cock pushing between your thighs.

He rubs his stiff hard length against you, letting it glide through your wet folds by rolling his hips in a tender slow rhythm. Letting you feel all of him, coating his long, girthy cock with your cream, making it slippery and warm the longer he stays between your legs. You cry out shakily when his gorgeous cock does what his fingers did earlier, massaging your swollen bud.

You are panting loudly by now, your body brimming with pleasure and your face feeling hot as you lean back against Lord Sukuna's broad chest and let him spoil you with his lips and his hands, and his cock.

You're trembling helplessly in his strong arms when the pleasure heightens, and suddenly you get drowned by it, crying out loudly as his cockhead kisses your swollen wet pearl in a way that makes pleasure explode in the little bud. You cling desperately to Sukuna's muscular arms as your body convulses and your cunt twitches and pulses hotly over his thick length.

You have never felt something like this before. It must be what the women in those steamy novels were experiencing with their lovers. And finally, you understand the fascination, the craving to want to feel this again and again.

Lord Sukuna's voice comes out in a low groan when he kisses your neck, and his strong hands caress your breasts with gentle touches. Allowing you to experience that high until the last wave ebbs off.

You turn around in his strong embrace, wrapping your arms around him and kissing him deeply, unashamed now that you feel this bliss. 

You press your naked body against him, whimpering with need when Lord Sukuna pushes your back against the desk, and then he lifts you with a fast, fluid motion, making you sit on the desk with your legs spread for him. You can feel your slick coating the wooden desk beneath you, spreading your heat and arousal over it. But you don't care.

Lord Sukuna's gorgeous cock is back between your folds, caressing you again down there, renewing your arousal. But this time, he leaves your bud after a few strokes and instead settles his thick cockhead at your wet entrance. You tremble for a moment in a mix of arousal and fear. Will it hurt when he takes you? He is so big. 

His cockhead is kissing your tight heat gently, stretching you open around his thick tip for the first time. Your first man, your first lover.

You gasp loudly when Sukuna pushes deeper into your virgin cunt, truly claiming you now. Taking your virginity with a gentle but powerful snap of his hips.

You hiss as a stinging pain makes your legs jerk, but Lord Sukuna stops immediately, long elegant fingers caressing your sides soothingly, and he murmurs against your neck,

"The pain will be over quickly, my love. I will be careful. I'll take good care of you, my sweet girl. You feel so good around me. So warm and wet."

His fingers grab your chin, tilt your face up to him, and he kisses you sweetly as his other hand wanders between your legs to caress those sweet slow circles around your nub again, making your cunt tighten around him as new pleasure surges through you. 

He rocks his hips again, pushing his thick girth into your slick cunt, and your initial pain lessens and gets replaced by a wonderful feeling of being full.

You wrap your arms around him, caressing his muscular back and lifting your hips to welcome him, to let him know you crave him, let him know that he can take you. And he does.

Sukuna groans loudly. His long eyelashes flutter prettily as he moves his hips, thrusting his manhood deep into you and finding a delicious pace that makes you gasp anytime he rams his thick girth back into you, filling you completely.

You discover there is a specific spot deep inside you that makes your body jerk and your hips stutter anytime Lord Sukuna's manhood kisses it. It only takes a short while until your nails dig into Sukuna's back, and you writhe in pleasure against him, feeling hot tears run down your cheeks as the bliss you feel gets more intense with every thrust of his gorgeous thick cock.

But you aren't the only one who gets increasingly lost in the pleasure your lovemaking causes. Loud moans fall from Sukuna's lips, whispered endearments and needy grunts, and then his teeth graze over your neck, and he growls. A sound that sends a shiver down your spine. But not in fear but in excitement.

You cling to him desperately, meeting his powerful deep thrusts, and you catch yourself whimpering,

"Please, take anything you need from me. I want to be yours."

Your mind is hazy with lust, but at the same time, you know full well what you are trying to say. What you are offering to him.

This man in your arms might not be human, and you are fine with it. You want him to show his true self. Need him to do it now that you are as close to him as you can be. Now that you are one with him, filled by his thick cock, your cunt twitching needily around him.

His low voice sounds strained, as if it takes all his strength to hold back.

"You don't know what you're asking for, sweetheart. I can't..."

"I know it, Sukuna. Please...just claim me in every way. I need you to..."

The rest of your words get drowned out by the feral-sounding growl coming from Sukuna. His hands tighten on your waist, and the next thing you know, a sharp pain explodes on your neck.

He did it! He really bit you!

His sharp canines are buried in your neck, drawing blood.

You cry out, but at the same time, intense pleasure washes over you, making your body jerk and your cunt clench needily around Sukuna's manhood.

The pain is gone in a second. Instead, pleasure engulfs you.

You whimper needily, feeling your lover's fangs buried in your flesh. He is sucking at the wound, making your blood spill out, which he drinks hungrily.

You gasp his name, full of longing, and feel something warm trickle down your chest and between your breasts which bounce with every powerful snap of Sukuna's hips.

His mouth leaves your neck to follow that warmth. You realize it is a small rivulet of blood that Sukuna licks up thoroughly, red eyes burning into yours as he looks up at you, tongue flicking over your breasts, licking them clean, moaning at the taste of your life essence in his mouth.

"So sweet, my love. You taste so sweet."

He takes you with even more vigor now, hard deep thrusts that make both of you gasp and moan loudly. A frantic mating, like two animals in heat.

You cry his name when the pressure in your core snaps, and you feel this heavenly bliss wash over you again. The only thing you can do is cling to Sukuna's tall, muscular body sobbing from pleasure while you are coming undone on his gorgeous cock.

His thrusts become faster and harder, making you gasp loudly at the sheer strength he possesses. And then his gorgeous eyes fall shut, and his lips open in a low moan, showing his teeth with the canines that are much longer than usual, looking like a feral beast's fangs, long and sharp with some blood still sticking to them.

You cannot stop looking at him. Sukuna is always stunning, of course, but especially now, at the peak of his pleasure. When his cock is buried to the hilt in your wet cunt as he cums deep inside you. Pulsing his seed into you while your blood is still on his teeth.

You are truly his in every way now.

You are breathing heavily when Sukuna's gaze meets yours, and he captures your lips in a tender kiss before pulling away.

You can't help but look down between your legs, watching in curious fascination as Sukuna pulls out of you. His long thick cock slowly slips out of your stretched cunt, glistening with wetness, coated in your creamy arousal and the evidence of your virginity that he took tonight. Traces of blood paint a filigree pattern on his gorgeous length.

Sukuna moans loudly at the sight, a sound that sends more arousal through you. You want to slip down from the desk, but Sukuna stops you with his hands on your hips. He shakes his head, and before you can ask what he wants, he already sinks to his knees between your legs, strong hands pushing your thighs further apart, exposing all of you to him. His beautiful face disappears between your thighs.

His mouth is soft and tender on your leaking wet heat. He licks and kisses it so gently and lovingly that it makes you cry as your fingers run through his silky hair, lost in the pleasure he gives you.

Sukuna is moaning against your heat as if it brings him just as much joy as it brings you. It's only then that you realize what he is doing. Licking all your virgin blood out of you, tasting the sweetest treat you could offer him.

He kisses a third high out of you, making you whimper weakly as your body shudders and your hips buck as your desire peaks and your cunt twitches against his beautiful face and soft mouth. And Sukuna drinks your pleasure eagerly. Licks your essence out of you as if it is his favorite food.

When he pulls away, you see a faint red stain on his lips. But Sukuna's tongue darts out immediately to lick it up, and his eyes close in pleasure when he gets more of your taste.

As grotesque as it looks, it somehow sends a spark of pride through you. This gorgeous man claimed you in every way. He took your virginity and drank your blood. He made you his like no other man ever could.

A decent maiden shouldn't find this appealing. But you are far from decent nowadays and also not a maiden anymore. The proof of it is still lingering there on Lord Sukuna's tongue.

You don't need to find books about the topic of vampires anymore. You are pretty sure now. All the evidence leads to one assumption: The lord of this castle, the man who kissed you, caressed you and made you his, is a vampire.

And yet you don't leave. You don't even consider it. Because as strange as it may sound, you are happy here in this castle and with The Red Lord.

With Sukuna. Your lover.

He is sweet. He is alluring. He makes you crave him every day. Crave his kiss and his touch and the comfort of his strength and protectiveness.

Love was something you never thought would be possible in your life. A life that had been planned by other people.

Your chaperone had advised you to stop daydreaming about foolish notions like romance. She told you love is something for books or theater plays, but it has no place in everyday life. A woman is supposed to marry a man who her family sees as beneficial, not someone she picks herself and who she loves. She had constantly lectured you that marriage wasn't about love. It was about obedience, learning how to serve your husband, and make his life more comfortable. The sooner you understood this, the sooner you'd be happy.

But that thought never made you happy. The opposite was the case. It made you despair.

But now you feel your chest fill with warmth anytime you think about Sukuna. Your heart beats faster when he is near you. You feel happiness fill you when he smiles at you.

Lord Sukuna is different from how everyone told you a man would be.

He is gentle and respectful. A passionate lover in the bedroom who always makes sure that you find completion and enjoy what he is doing to you. Oh, and how you enjoy it. His kisses and touches are addictive, making you tumble into a hazy blissfulness that sends your head spinning.

But it's not just that carnal aspect that draws you so much to Sukuna. It's the way he treats you in every other aspect too. The respectfulness, the care, the humor. It's the shared interests the two of you have. It's the tenderness that this powerful man allows you to see.

He asks you to keep him company in his library. Invites you to read to him, and in turn, he reads to you. He recites love poems and dark gothic tales in his velvety low voice while his strong arms wrap around you in a loving embrace.

He lets you help him pick new roses for his garden, names them after you, and watches you with pride in those beautiful glittering jewel eyes when you tell him you want to water them yourself from now on.

He plays the piano for you, making tears well up in your eyes at how beautiful and delicate the sounds of his music are. How tragic and heart-wrenching those songs sound. The melodies carry a tale of centuries of loneliness to your ears.

When you ask him with a choked-up voice who composed those pieces since you have never heard them before, he smiles and tells you he is the one who did.

"I had a lot of time to do those things, my angel. But I didn't make music for a long time since it didn't bring me joy to perform for an empty room. I'm truly blessed I can play for you now, darling."

He visits you in your room almost every night. Comes to your bed and wraps you in his strong embrace. His body is so solid and heavy on top of you, but his touch is loving and tender, and he always takes the utmost care of you. He makes love to your whole body, kisses you, and caresses you in all the right places, sets your senses on fire as you gasp his name and come undone on his gorgeous manhood over and over again.

He feels cold to the touch, but his skin grows warmer when he lies with you. That may be why he likes to stay for hours in your bed. And after a few weeks, he doesn't bother getting up again but stays the whole night, wrapping his tall, muscular body around you and holding you to his firm chest.

You have never slept that peacefully before.

You have long accepted that your lover must be a vampire. And yet, Sukuna never admits it. He apologized to you after that passionate night in the library. Apologized for losing control and biting you. Claimed that it was a stupid accident and he never meant to actually drink your blood.

"I am deeply sorry, my love. It was in the heat of pleasure, and I wanted to claim you as mine, give you a little bite mark. But I misjudged my strength. It won't happen again."

You try to reassure him, try to make him see that it is fine. But Sukuna changes the topic anytime you try to confront him. He smiles his most charming smile and ignores your attempts to discuss the matter, distracting you with a new book or a new idea for the rose garden, or, if nothing else works, he just kisses you until you shut up.

You try to come to terms with the fact that you might never be able to get him to confess the truth. But it bugs you. You stare at the beautiful man in your arms, wanting to know everything about him and wanting him to see that you love him the way he is and that he doesn't have to hide from you. 

But how can you achieve that?

And then fate offers you a chance you didn't expect. One of your excursions through the castle leads you to a dusty room in the highest tower, and you stumble upon an old battered box that contains things from a former inhabitant, apparently. Some necklaces and old letters, lacey handkerchiefs, and a pearl ring. But you only have eyes for one thing:

A golden hand mirror.

Your heart is hammering in your chest when you hear the door of your bedroom open and the soft footsteps of the man you love as he makes his way over to where you are sitting with your back to him at your desk.

With shaky hands, you lift the small hand mirror and angle it in a way that lets you see yourself and the room behind you.

Your breath catches in your throat. You see your own face very clearly, but where the reflection of Sukuna should be is nothing.

You turn around in your chair, staring at him with wide eyes. His gaze meets yours. A shadow flickers over his beautiful face, and there is a deep sadness in his gorgeous red jewel eyes.

"So you found out after all."

He sounds defeated. His usually so sultry voice is full of regret as he continues softly,

"You can leave anytime you want, my love. I will arrange everything for safe travel and ensure you find a good place to live and never have to worry about money."

You blink at him, tears gathering in your eyes. It breaks your heart to see him like this, to see the sadness in his eyes.

You drop the mirror, and before Sukuna can utter another word, you get up from your desk so fast that you knock your chair over and send the mirror flying.

But you don't care about the chair or the mirror. You fling yourself at Sukuna. Wrapping your arms around him and hugging him tightly, pressing your body against his and burying your face in his firm chest as you cling tightly to him.

"No! I don't want to go! I want to stay with you!"

You lift your head to look at him, seeing the surprise flash over his flawless features, the way his pretty eyes widen, and he blinks as if he can't understand what is happening. A tentative cold hand cups the back of your head and gently pets your hair.

"But... aren't you scared of me now, darling?"

He says it as if he can't believe you are still here. That he can't believe you are touching him, holding him, when he expected you to scream and run.

You smile softly at him and shake your head.

"No, I am not scared. What difference does it make what you are, Sukuna? That was what I was trying to make you see. That's why I was so adamant about finding out the truth. I know many people call your kind monsters, but I haven't encountered a single monster since I came to this castle. I only met a very kind man who took me in when I was injured and who took care of me and protected me from the people who wanted to bring harm to me. You aren't a monster to me, Sukuna. The only monsters I have met so far have all been human."

The sadness in his eyes gets replaced by a tenderness that makes your heart clench. Lord Sukuna's hand tightens in your hair, bringing you closer to him. He leans down to press a gentle kiss on your forehead.

His low velvety voice is full of wonder when he says,

"You never cease to amaze me, my love."

You laugh softly as you tighten your arms around him, feeling relief wash over you.

"I love you, Sukuna. Can I please stay with you?"

You can see the warmth in his eyes and the wonderous joy on his handsome features as he smiles at you and laughs softly.

"Of course, you can stay. I will be delighted if you stay forever. I love you too, darling."

The months pass, but here in the castle, time doesn't seem to exist. Not when every day spent with Sukuna is so full of joy. And now that he doesn't have to hide his true self anymore, you are blessed with learning about the life of an immortal.

You love the long evenings you and Sukuna spend cuddling together on the large red settee in the library, naked under a warm blanket, letting your hands and lips explore Sukuna's gorgeous body while he tells you tales about his life. About all the different cultures and traditions he encountered in all the centuries he spent on this earth.

There is no heartbeat thrumming under your palms when you press them against your lover's chiseled chest. There is no pulse when you brush heated kisses over his neck. But there is so much warmth inside you when you are this close to him. And a matching warmth is in his gorgeous eyes when he cups your face and smiles at you.

"One day, I will show you all of this. We can go anywhere you like, my love. People get suspicious if I stay in one place too long. So we will have to keep moving. But you can pick our next destination."

You smile at the implications of Sukuna's words. 

Three days ago, he got on one knee in front of you in the middle of the rose garden, holding out a beautiful gold ring with a ruby as red as his eyes in its center. Now that ring sparkles on your finger.

It's a promise. A promise that you will be Sukuna's companion through countless lifetimes. His beloved bride, who he will turn into one of his kind so the two of you can be together for eternity.

Lovers until the end of time itself.

Thank you so much for reading part two of my Sukuna vampire story! I am happy but, at the same time, a bit sad to leave Lord Sukuna and his gothic castle behind now. It was so comforting to disappear into this world. I hope this story could offer you comfort too!

Thank you so much for all the love I received for this short series! It means a lot to me to see that you enjoyed it! Please let me know what you think about the second part. Comments and reblogs make me happy!

The book Sukuna reads to Reader in his library is "Dracula" by Bram Stoker, a new novel that had just been released, and of course, Sukuna had to get his hands on it to check how Mr. Stoker portrayed someone of Sukuna's kind :) 

Cowboy Sukuna (Part 1)

Sukuna became a cowboy so he wouldn't have to let anyone tell him what to do. And because he wanted to put some distance between himself and his little brother so Sukuna wouldn't drag him into his mess. Sukuna is made for the lonesome cowboy life. He doesn't need anyone by his side. He isn't looking for love. At least that's what he thinks until he meets you, a pretty girl in a flowery dress and cowboy boots who somehow knows how to tear Sukuna's walls down.

Cowboy!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: Cowboy AU, fluff + smut Word Count: 7.5k Playlist: Cowboy Sukuna Warnings: 18+, smut, cigarettes, alcohol, fistfights, blood. Minors don't interact. This story is inspired by @sweetlandspos fanart of Cowboy Sukuna (also this is the selfie he sends Reader). I saw him and fell in love, and I just HAD to write a story about this sexy cowboy. Divider @/benkeibear. The art in the header was used with permission from @/sweetlandspos

Sukuna grew up thinking he belonged nowhere. He can't even remember his dad and his mama didn't want him either. He was raised by his grandpa, but Sukuna was a wild one, a rebel and troublemaker, famous in his small town but for all the wrong reasons. He got all those tattoos when he was far too young, got into all those fistfights, broke all those hearts, and even got into trouble with the cops once. His gramps told Sukuna he was a bad influence on his little brother, so when Sukuna was old enough, he left it all behind and bought this old ranch in the middle of nowhere.

He renovated the old farmhouse all by himself and built his own life out here. A life he could be proud of. It's a lonely life. No wife, no kids, not even a girlfriend. Just Sukuna and his dog and horse and the cows. And lots of hard work. But it's what Sukuna tells himself he wants. The bad boy cowboy never even considered getting married. He doesn't think he is made for love. He isn't even sure he deserves it or is capable of it. Sukuna enjoys life out here in the middle of nowhere and tells himself he doesn't need anyone by his side, anyway.

If he wants to fuck, he can drive to town and flirt his way into some pretty girl's bed. It's never anything serious. Just a few hours of fun and then Sukuna is gone again. No goodbye kiss, no exchange of phone numbers. The only thing he leaves behind are some muddy bootprints on her front porch, and some cigarette ash flicked out of his car window.

Sukuna doesn't expect to ever find love or even want to find it. And he certainly doesn't think that he will meet his future wife on a random Tuesday morning in the shabby old hardware store he has been frequenting for years.

He got into his pickup truck at sunrise, driving several hours to the small town to buy some things in the hardware store, and that's where he runs into you, a sweet little thing in a flowery dress and pretty cowboy boots, wringing your hands nervously when Sukuna has some questions regarding the pond supplies he wants to buy.

He grins at you, taking his cowboy hat off and nodding at you respectfully, all polite because contrary to what he looks like with all his tattoos and the intimidating height and muscular build, he can be a gentleman if he wants to, and you seem like such a sweetheart, Sukuna thinks you deserve his best charming self.

You tell him it's your first day working here and you have to check with your boss. You apologize profusely to Sukuna, and he can't stop the smirk from spreading over his tattooed face because you are so damn cute.

He tells you, "It's okay, ma'am, I have time.", and watches you get all flustered before you hurry to the back of the store.

You return a few minutes later with a warm smile on your face and answer Sukuna's questions, showing him around and also helping him pick some other things he says he needs (which he doesn't, but he likes the way you smile at him and the way your sweet flowery perfume fills his nose anytime you move).

You even insist on helping him load the items into his pickup truck,

"See it as compensation for my earlier lack of fishing pond knowledge."

And Sukuna laughs and thanks you,

"There is nothing you have to compensate for. I am very pleased with your service."

He eyes the nameplate attached to your dress and addresses you by your name, letting it roll off his tongue in his low, velvety voice that he knows girls find sexy. Sukuna can see that you are affected by his charm, and he grins broadly at you when he tips his cowboy hat in a farewell. And you smile so sweetly at him, and Sukuna is pretty sure you really mean it when you tell him to come back again soon.

Sukuna is back in town only a week later, picking up a new saddle he ordered at the local saddler, but he drives past the hardware store on his way back, and something makes him slow down, makes him take one last deep drag from his cigarette and then flick the cigarette butt out the open window before Sukuna pulls into the small parking lot.

Sukuna tells himself it's a good idea to have a little look around when he already made the long drive into town anyway. He could use a new toolbox. The old one is still functioning, but this new one comes with a sweet girl in a cute little skirt and those shiny cowboy boots. Sukuna spends thirty minutes in the little shop until he finally sees you coming out from the back.

Your gaze meets his, and he sees the way your eyes widen just as Sukuna grins at you, tipping his cowboy hat in greeting and casually strolling over to you.

You smile brightly at him, remembering him (Of course you do. Sukuna knows he always leaves an impression), greeting him by his name, and asking him how you can be of help.

Sukuna cocks his head, a lazy smirk spreading over his handsome, tattooed face, letting his gaze travel over your pretty face and cute curves, thinking that he definitely knows some things you could help him with. He is pretty sure he could have you in his truck in no time at all, his calloused hands slipping under your cute little skirt while your pretty mouth moans his name. But something makes him hold back.

It's untypical for Sukuna. He drove all the way to town and will only be here for a few hours. Usually, he makes good use of that time to get his fill of some sweet pussy wrapped around his cock to keep him satisfied for the long lonely nights to come once he is back home again, riding over the plains, herding his cows.

But Sukuna looks at your sweet smile and your genuine kindness, and it doesn't feel right to only fuck you and then leave again to never see you again.

And so Sukuna doesn't try to get under your skirt but instead leans down to grin at you and ask you to help him pick a nice new toolbox.

He walks out of the store an hour later, not just with a new toolbox but also a new BBQ grill, some lawn chairs, and a saddle bag he could have gotten in much better quality at the saddler he just came from. But it's okay because it meant that he could spend a whole hour with you in the shitty little hardware store, letting you show him around, talking to him in your sweet voice with the thick accent, while Sukuna watched your little skirt sway around your knees.

You accompany him to his truck again, and Sukuna smirks at you like the devil that he is, asking in a teasing voice,

"Is this some new service your store offers? Helping every customer load their stuff into their cars? Or is this a special service just for me?"

His smirk grows bigger when he sees how flustered you get once again, and he adds,

"No need to get all shy on me, sweetheart. I like being your favorite customer."

You giggle nervously but smile that bright smile at him again and quickly ask him where he lives and what he's doing for a living. And Sukuna laughs and points at his cowboy hat,

"This is what I'm doing. The hat isn't just a sexy accessory."

"Oh? So you're really a cowboy?"

"Yeah, as real as you can meet one. I have my own ranch a few hours from here. Just me and my animals."

You smile at him, getting a slightly dreamy look in your eyes, telling him,

"That sounds nice."

Sukuna doesn't know why his chest feels so fluttery and warm the whole drive home. He even catches himself humming along softly to one of those stupid, catchy lovesongs playing on the country station on his shitty old car radio.

Cowboy Sukuna doesn't know what it is, but lately, he keeps coming to town more often than usual. It's Friday night, and he's sitting in the small bar with the roses on the wooden sign above the old-fashioned saloon doors.

Sukuna is drinking whiskey with some rancher who wants to buy several cows from him, when Sukuna suddenly sees you. All pretty and sexy without knowing it, in your blue jeans and the cropped blouse, laughing unrestrainedly with your girls after a long work day.

Sukuna can't take his eyes off you. He watches you over the rim of his whiskey glass, feeling that strange warmth in his chest again. He's about to put his glass down and walk over to you when he sees a guy bump into you.

The asshole is acting as if it was by accident, but he is far too handsy for Sukuna's taste. Standing much too close to you, his shoulders brushing against yours, his mouth at your ear, saying something to you.

Sukuna grits his teeth.

You smile politely at the guy, laughing awkwardly, not at all like when you laugh with Sukuna. You are uncomfortable. That much is clear to see, but Sukuna can tell you are a good girl who was taught to always be nice and polite, even to that guy with the grabby hands. That pathetic worm puts a hand on your hip, and Sukuna sees red.

He slams his whiskey glass down on the table and crosses the small bar in a few large steps, grabbing that handsy guy and pulling him off you with an angry growl. Sukuna slams him into the wall, glaring at him, his voice low and dangerous,

"Get your dirty hands off her, or I'll fucking kill you!"

Your wide, surprised eyes stare at Sukuna, and that nameless guy screams and tries to punch him, but Sukuna just laughs about the pathetic attempt and drags him further away from you, grabbing him by the collar as Sukuna's right fist connects with the asshole's face.

Sukuna has always been good at fistfights. He is a rough guy, a dirty fighter, sadistic when someone pisses him off. He tried to stay out of trouble those last few years, but tonight, he is not restraining his anger, not when it comes to protecting you.

He smirks devilishly at the guy when that asshole manages to land a hit on Sukuna's face. It just manages to rile Sukuna up even more. He laughs and taunts that loser for hitting like a little boy before Sukuna attacks again and sends the guy tumbling to the floor with the next hard punch.

It's then that your small, soft hands wrap around Sukuna's tattooed biceps, and your sweet voice says his name with so much worry that it makes Sukuna stop going after that guy on the floor. He just jerks his head at the guy, telling him to get lost,

"If you know what's good for you, you better stay a mile away from that sweet lady in the future. Now apologize to her."

And the guy scrambles to his feet, mumbling a sorry before he flees from the bar and from Sukuna.

Sukuna slowly turns around, running a tattooed hand through his pink hair. He wipes his split lip on his sleeve, gives you a lopsided grin, and asks if you are okay.

And you stare at him with big, worried eyes, taking in the blood on his tattooed face, but a small smile plays around your lips as you tell Sukuna,

"Thank you for getting him away from me. I am fine... but what about you? Your lip... let me fix that, please."

You take Sukuna's large hand in your smaller one, tugging gently on it, and Sukuna follows you out of the bar.

You lead him down the road to your small house, inviting him in, not to have sex with him, but to patch him up, and somehow it feels a lot more intimate than all the times combined that Sukuna went home with another girl.

You are so sweet to him, scolding him for getting into a fight and getting himself hurt, but your fingers are so gentle when you wipe the blood off Sukuna's face and put a band-aid on his split lip. You smile softly as you trace the tattoos on Sukuna's jaw with your fingers and whisper a thank you to him.

"Thank you for protecting me from that guy and teaching him a lesson. You're a good guy."

And Sukuna laughs roughly, grinning at you and shaking his head,

"That's a first. Usually, I get called the opposite."

And you laugh with him, your soft fingers still cupping his chin and touching his tattoos oh so gently, insisting that even though he looks like a bad boy, Sukuna seems really nice.

Sukuna is so close to just pulling you on his lap and kissing you, but he refrains from doing it. Because he knows where it would lead, and for once in his life, Sukuna doesn't want a one-night stand. He doesn't want to fuck you and then drive back to his life out on the ranch to never see you again.

He doesn't want that with you. He wants to see you again, and he wants to take things slow. He wants to court you in an old-fashioned way.

Sukuna eats the homemade pie you bring him and drinks the coffee you insist he should drink before he drives back home. He thanks you politely for playing nurse for him and for feeding him, looking at you with the most charming smile he can give you with his split lip. And you tell him he is welcome and that he knows now where to find you if he ever needs someone to patch him up again.

Sukuna returns a week later to the hardware store, not because he needs to buy anything, but for you. He sees you smile when you spot him leaning casually against a wooden fence display, twirling his cowboy hat in his fingers and smirking that lazy grin at you.

You only have eyes for him, forgetting what you want to say to the customers you are serving. Looking at them in confusion and stuttering an excuse before your gaze wanders back to Sukuna. And Sukuna's smirk grows bigger.

He didn't even dress nice. He is just wearing his typical black jeans and cowboy boots, and one of the flannel shirts he always wears on the ranch. But he knows he looks good anyway. Sukuna knows the ladies love his handsome face and his tall and strong body with all those well-defined muscles from all the hard work. And his pink hair and tattoos are very popular with the country girls, too. They all get weak in the knees for a bad boy like Sukuna.

But somehow, he doesn't want to be a bad boy when it comes to you. A strange warmth spreads through Sukuna's chest when you leave the other customers standing and come over to him with that big smile on your pretty face, greeting him and telling him that it's nice to see him again.

No, Sukuna doesn't want to be an asshole or a bad boy when it comes to you. He wants to be a good man for you. He is polite to you, sweet, and respectful. A true cowboy and gentleman.

He grins his boyish grin at you, cocking his head and drawls,

"I thought I should stop by to check on you. Make sure there aren't any weird guys I have to fistfight for you."

Sukuna flirts with you and makes you laugh and giggle until your boss gives you side eyes and informs you that you shouldn't pester customers. But Sukuna turns to the man, towering over him,

"She is just helping me decide which products to buy. You shouldn't berate her but rather give her a raise. This sweet lady is the best thing about this shitty store. The only reason I keep coming back."

You burst out laughing the moment your boss has left and Sukuna thinks his stomach has never felt so fluttery. He asks you when your shift is over and if he can take you out for dinner. He is delighted when you say yes.

Sukuna waits until your shift is over and then leads you to his old pickup truck, holding open the door for you, giving you a hand, and helping you climb into it. His hand rests a bit longer than necessary on the small of your back, but you don't seem to mind.

He takes you to a cozy little restaurant that he has been to several times before. Always alone because Sukuna never went on dates in the past. But the elderly lady who owns the restaurant always tells Sukuna that she knows the type of cowboy Sukuna is from the time when she was still a young girl.

"Oh, I have had several boys like you in my life. Y'all are such handsome devils, but always breaking hearts everywhere you go because you are always running from something, and you don't even know from what. I wish for you to find the right girl one day. And if you do, bring her here."

And now Sukuna is here with you, walking into the restaurant with his arm wrapped lightly around you, catching the knowing gaze of the old lady behind the counter. She leads the two of you to a table on the patio, all romantic with wildflowers in a mason jar and fairy lights overhead.

Sukuna has never been on a real date, but he likes this. He likes to be here with you, chat with you, laugh with you, and hold your hand on the table, watching his long tattooed fingers interlace with your smaller ones, which feel so soft.

The hours slip by without either of you noticing how late it is.

When it is time to bring you home, Sukuna drives you to your house, parks the truck in front of it, and turns to you to say the typical flirty stuff that he usually says to girls, but he stops when he sees your smile, and somehow anything he usually says seems so hollow and fake, and it wouldn't be right to say it to you.

Sukuna closes his mouth again, gulping hard, the bad boy cowboy at a loss for words for the first time in his life.

This feeling is new to Sukuna. All of this is new to him. This warmth in his chest and the fluttery feeling in his stomach. And how he is so damn scared to fuck things up and lose you before you even are his.

How can Sukuna even say anything at all to you when everything he wants to tell you is so fucking raw and loaded with feelings he has never felt before? When it all makes him feel so fucking vulnerable?

Like the fact that Sukuna really enjoys spending time with you and that he wants to see you again. Or that he is pretty sure he gets butterflies when hearing your laugh. Or that he never believed in love, but he thinks he is starting to do it now.

He can't say those things, can he?

In the end, it doesn't need any words from him. You smile at him and thank him for the lovely evening, adding a bit shyly that you aren't used to going on dates, and then stutter because you realize what you said and you are worried that it wasn't really a date and you made a fool of yourself by assuming it was one.

And Sukuna can't help but grin and then do the one thing that will shut you up and hopefully ease your worries:

He kisses you right there in his truck. Cups your chin with his calloused hand and brushes his lips softly over yours. Careful, gentle. Something Sukuna usually isn't, but you bring out some part of him that was dormant until now.

Sukuna wants this kiss to be special. He wants to be gentle with you because you are gentle with him, too. You are sweet and kind. You treat him as if he is deserving of tenderness.

You make a cute, surprised sound, but don't pull away. Instead, your hand lands on Sukuna's neck, caressing the short stubble of his undercut, pulling him closer as your lips begin to move against his, too, and Sukuna can't help but smile into the sweetest kiss he ever had.

When the two of you pull apart again, Sukuna smiles at you, a genuine, soft smile, and tells you,

"It was absolutely a date. And I had a lovely evening, too, princess. Let me take you out to dinner again soon."

Sukuna watches you get out of his truck and walk to your front door. He lifts a hand to give you a little wave when you turn around in the open doorway to smile at him once again, whisper-shouting to him that you wish him a safe drive home.

Sukuna stays in his truck outside your house until the light in your living room goes on, and he knows you are safe and sound before he finally pulls out of your driveway and makes his long way home, his thoughts filled with your smile and the taste of your sweet lips and tongue in his mouth.

Sukuna stays true to the promise he made to himself and really takes things slow with you. He has to work anyway, look after his ranch, fix some fences, and ride across the plains, where he meets no other human being for several days. But you are on his mind the whole time.

He sends you pictures from his rides when he is lucky and gets a signal. Selfies of him on horseback, grinning at you with a cigarette dangling from the corner of his lips. And some pics of some of his cows, smiling when you ask for their names.

"They don't have names. I just numbered them. But you can give them names if you like, sweetheart."

And you do. You send Sukuna the stupidest names you can think of, and he can't stop grinning,

"I sure hope you won't be in charge of naming any kids."

"Well, I will let their daddy help choose the names if he has such a problem with my name-giving skills."

And Sukuna's head spins at the implication. You're a tease in such a sweet way, and it drives him completely insane.

But Sukuna knows he drives you crazy for him, too. He knows that as much as you like the normal pictures he sends you, you also love the thirst traps he blesses you with.

The pictures where he is shirtless, all his tattoos and defined muscles on display for you, sweat glistening on his strong body, his faded, ripped jeans sitting low on his hips and doing nothing to hide the massive bulge throbbing in them.

You send him pictures, too, not as shameless as the thirst traps Sukuna sends you, but enough to drive him crazy. He has never held himself back so long, but damn, he thinks you are worth all the hard-ons he has and only his own hand to take care of them. Sure, Sukuna could drive to the next bar and find a random girl to ease that pressure, but he doesn't want it. There is only one girl he wants.

Sukuna can wait. He knows you are worth it.

And as much as he wants to have you under him, leaving scratches on his back and squealing his name in pleasure, he also wants to just talk to you or maybe take you on a little ride on his horse.

He calls you every night just to hear your voice and ask about your day, laughing about all the rude customers at the hardware store. Sukuna asks you what you had for dinner and listens to all the latest gossip your mama told you. Sometimes, he falls asleep while listening to your sweet voice and sees a text from you in the morning telling him that he sounds cute when he snores.

Maybe that's ruining the bad-boy reputation that Sukuna has all over your small town, but he doesn't give a fuck. You can see this other side of him. You are the exception, and he finds that he likes that.

Sukuna visits the town as often as his ranch duties allow so he can take you on dates. Sometimes, he drives his old pickup truck, but sometimes, he takes his motorcycle, grinning at you when he parks it in front of your house and takes off his helmet, running a hand through his ruffled hair to smooth it down again, and telling you to come hop on so he can take you on a ride. And you raise an eyebrow jokingly,

"When you said you are a cowboy, I pictured a guy on a real horse..."

And there is this happy sparkle in your eyes, and that sweet laugh falling from your lips. And fuck, Sukuna knows he is a lost man.

He grins back at you, leaning down to greet you with a slow, deep kiss before he holds out his helmet to you,

"This cowboy will let you ride his horse soon, too, but for now, let me show you a bit more horsepower."

Sukuna loves the feeling of your body snuggling against his back, your hands wrapped tightly around his waist, your hands caressing his chest and his abs through his shirt, and your loud, excited laugh when Sukuna accelerates his bike and speeds down the dirt road leading to nowhere, leaving a cloud of dust and dirt behind.

Sukuna parks his motorcycle at a pretty pond and spreads out a picnic blanket in the grass. The two of you sit down to eat something, but it only takes a few minutes before the snacks are forgotten, and Sukuna rolls on top of you and kisses you until he feels dizzy, and you sigh into his mouth.

When you look up at him and touch his face, trace his tattoos with your fingertips, and smile at him, Sukuna knows that he has never been this genuinely happy in his life. But at the same time, it scares him. It terrifies him to feel so much.

He strolls down to the pond, smoking a cigarette while looking over the smooth surface of the water, trying to calm down and stop his fears from swallowing him. Trying to stop that voice in his head that whispers to him that this cowboy should do what he is best at and just run and isolate himself and live his life in solitude.

But your sweet laugh carries to Sukuna's ears as you run towards him, pulling him out of his dark thoughts. Your small hand wraps around his tattooed biceps, and you lean against his side,

"Hey cowboy, come back. I have some homemade lemonade and cake in my bag."

Sukuna turns his head to look at you, at the way you tilt your head to smile up at him, eyes full of affection. How could he walk away from this? Yeah, he is scared out of his mind of all those feelings, but he would regret it even more if he ran.

He blows out his cigarette smoke slowly as a lazy grin spreads over his face, and he leans down to press a kiss on your forehead.

"Homemade lemonade? You sure know the way to my heart, huh, princess?"

He lets you take his hand and pull him back to the picnic blanket, sipping your lemonade and letting you climb in his lap and feed him the cake you baked for him, and Sukuna wraps his arms around your waist, capturing your lips in a sweet, sexy kiss, hoping you can understand the silent promises his tongue writes against yours.

All the words he doesn't dare say out loud because they scare him. But Sukuna knows it's you for him. He knows that he wants by his side. He knows you are his girl and hopes he is your boy, too. He hopes he is a man who is deserving of you and your sweetness. Sukuna promises you silently that he will work damn hard to be that man.

It takes weeks before the two of you have sex.

Sukuna takes you on another date with his old truck this time, driving far out to watch the stars with you and lying in the bed of his truck with you in his arms.

He brought you flowers. The wild ones which grow on his ranch because he feels like you enjoy them more than the ones from the flower shops, and it makes him happy to see you with something from his life.

You thanked him with a sweet kiss and put some of the flowers in your hair, laughing when they fell out again, and Sukuna picked them up again and tucked them behind your ear.

And now those flowers are already out of your hair again, strewn all over the truck bed because the two of you are so lost in your deep tongue kisses and the feeling of your bodies grinding against each other.

The flowers are forgotten, just like the stars above. The only thing you know is each other's mouths and hands that tug on each other's clothes, craving more, needing skin-on-skin contact.

Sukuna's shirt has been long gone, and yours too, leaving you only in your lacey bra and the little skirt, driving Sukuna crazy. Your hands explore the naked skin of his broad back and his biceps, and your lips trail sweet kisses down Sukuna's neck, leaving your lipstick marks on him.

And Sukuna licks and kisses the swell of your breasts above your bra, finally pulling the pretty lacey thing down to reveal your even prettier tits. He sucks one nipple into his warm mouth as he looks up at your face, grinning when he sees your eyelashes flutter and hears the cute little noises you make for him.

You straddle Sukuna's lap, smiling at him with desire burning in your eyes while your small hands wander a bit shyly over his tattooed chest, and Sukuna thinks he will lose his mind if he doesn't finally take you.

He flips you over on your back, pushes his head under your skirt, and eats you out until your legs are shaking and your hands tug on his pink hair, and you cry out his name into the night.

You look up at Sukuna with parted lips and heavy-lidded eyes as you unbutton his jeans and get his achingly hard cock out, stroking him lovingly while you tell him to please make you his girl.

Sukuna has held back for so long but cannot do it anymore. Not when you look at him like that and stroke his cock like that and ask him to claim you. He pushes you down on the truck bed, his arms on each side of your head, his heavy body on top of yours, his lips claiming yours in a possessive, hungry kiss at the same time as his cock claims your sweet, warm pussy.

He takes you with hard, rough thrusts, fucking you almost feverishly once he feels your warm pussy around his cock. And for the first time in his life, Sukuna apologizes for the way he fucks. For his roughness, for his strength. But you cling to him and moan his name and tell him it's okay and that you want him exactly like this.

You leave scratches on Sukuna's back, and he fucks his seed into you over and over again. The two of you can't get enough of each other that night, making out and fucking in various positions until the sky becomes pink with the approaching sunrise, and both of you are sated and exhausted, and you slump against Sukuna's body, hugging him, pressing your tits firmly against his tattooed chest as his spent cock softens gradually inside you.

Sukuna lets his head fall back on the truck bed, his large hands lazily caressing your back, and he looks up at the sky that brings a new morning, thinking that it feels like it's a whole new life that is beginning today.

He drives you back to town an hour later, stealing glances at you the whole drive long, one tattooed hand resting on your naked thigh under your skirt, and your small hand lands on top of Sukuna's, caressing the back of his hand while you sing along to the country songs on the radio. Sukuna can't stop grinning the whole time.

But even after you start to have sex with each other, you still take time to get to know each other even better. It's fun and sexy but also deep and meaningful, and Sukuna catches himself being more open with you than he ever was with anyone before.

He tells you the truth when you ask about his family, tells you that it's messy, that he can't even remember his dad, and that his mama didn't want him either. He tells you about his little brother, who he hasn't seen in many years because Sukuna ran from home the moment he was 18. He confesses all the shit he did. All the stupid things a rebellious teenage Sukuna got involved in. All the trouble and pain he caused his family. All the regrets he has, when he looks back at his former life now.

And you take his large hand into both of yours and hold it so gently, and smile that sweet smile at him, telling him that sometimes families simply are like that. A mess.

You tell him that you like him the way he is, with all his rough edges, and that you wish Sukuna had more love in his life when he needed it the most as a child.

"But you have me now, Kuna. And I will make sure you don't feel alone."

You tear down his walls so easily, break him in the most beautiful way, and build him up again, even stronger than before, because now Sukuna knows what it feels like to be loved.

And Sukuna says those famous three words for the first time in his life.

He pulls you to him, holds you in his arms, and rests his chin on your head, swaying you softly from side to side as he murmurs those words into your hair, words he never thought he would say,

"I love you. And I want to be with you. I know it's hard to love a man like me, but I want this to work. I want you. I want us. And I will work hard for it."

He thinks he will melt when you tell him you love him too and that there is nothing hard about loving him at all.

For the first time in his life, Sukuna stays in someone's bed the whole night.

The two of you kiss at your front door, and you gently pull him inside. You kiss and laugh and playfully tease each other all the way to your bedroom, undressing each other on the way, leaving behind a trail of clothes on your floor.

You call him baby, and Sukuna thinks he will go crazy. He picks you up and carries you the rest of the way until he lays you down on your bed, his lips never leaving yours.

You don't fuck that night but make love, nice and slow. You look so beautiful lying under Sukuna, your face so close to his, your small hands caressing his biceps and his muscular back while Sukuna takes you with slow, deep thrusts, unable to tear his gaze away from you and the love in your eyes when you whisper his name.

Sukuna tells you he loves you again when he is about to cum, and it feels more intense than anything else he has ever experienced. Especially when he feels you cum on his cock, too, sobbing his name and returning the "I love you" several times while you shudder in pleasure beneath him.

Sukuna doesn't let go of you the whole night. He lets you use his chest as your pillow, wraps you in his strong arms, and holds you. The wild, freedom-loving cowboy who usually runs, suddenly all tame.

Sukuna thinks he is right where he should be. He wants to stay forever in your bed and in your arms, holding the girl he loves.

Of course, a cowboy like Sukuna has to leave again in the morning. His ranch needs him. There are miles and miles of fences to fix, horses to train, and cattle to herd. But Sukuna promises to call you every night.

"And if I don't have a signal, I want you to know that I will still think of you, okay princess? Let's make a deal. Every night at ten pm, I want you to look at the sky. And I'll do the same, wherever I am, and imagine you are by my side."

And he laughs softly and hugs you to his strong body, adding,

"I will think about you every second of the day anyway. And I am damn sure you can't get me out of your mind either, huh?"

He winks at you and grins his boyish grin, and you chuckle and get on your tiptoes to kiss his grin off him.

Before Sukuna drives off, you give him a leather cord with a small charm in the form of a horseshoe, telling him you saw it on the farmers market last weekend and thought of him.

"I want to give it to you because I hope it will bring you luck and keep you safe out there on all those lonely nights and long rides."

And Sukuna leaves his bandana at your place,

"So you have something to remind you of me while I am away, princess. Wear it around your pretty throat to keep the chilly winds away and to think of your favorite cowboy."

Sukuna calls you every day just like he promised.

But out here on the plains, where Sukuna is on horseback, with only his dog running along beside him, his life still feels lonely. This solitude used to be something Sukuna chose willingly for himself. Something he thought was the only life that was right for a man like him.

But now Sukuna feels this longing inside his chest, and the questions keep filling his mind. Does a cowboy really have to be alone? Does Sukuna really have to be alone?

His ranch and his life out here are the last parts of him, which Sukuna hasn't opened to you yet. It seemed too risky to bring you here, too intimate. This is the place, after all, where Sukuna fled to so he wouldn't hurt his little brother anymore. A place he used to see as some kind of fortress that kept other people safe from Sukuna and also kept him safe from feeling too much. A place where he was free from all the complications of human interactions.

But things have changed, haven't they?

Sukuna visits you as often as he can, and he catches himself telling you more about his everyday life as a cowboy while watching you closely for your reactions. He tells you what he loves about his life on the ranch, tells you that it is a lot of hard work and that it can be tough at times, but that it is also peaceful, and that he likes that he is free out there.

"I like that I am my own boss because I really don't do well with people trying to tell me what to do."

And you laugh and roll your eyes, and Sukuna grins at you with a wink and adds,

"Well, you are the exception, baby."

And as teasing and light-hearted as it sounds, Sukuna knows that he is telling the truth. He doesn't mind if you tell him what to do. He doesn't mind if he has to take responsibility for his actions. Not when it comes to you.

You beam at him and kiss his tattooed cheek and ask in that sweet voice,

"Will you finally show me your ranch, Sukuna?"

And he knows what you are really asking is for Sukuna to finally let you in. To let this last wall tumble to the ground and allow you into his life in every way.

Sukuna feels strangely nervous when driving you to his ranch. But not because he is scared of losing his last refuge. He is nervous because he is worried you won't like the life out here in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but endless miles of uninhabited land around you and only Sukuna and his animals to keep you company.

Sukuna hopes you will like it. Because there is this small voice in his mind that whispers to him, "I want her to stay."

Sukuna watches you carefully while he shows you around his small ranch, showing you the old farmhouse he renovated, the barn he built with his own hands, and the stables he gave a new paint and a modern interior.

Relief floods Sukuna's chest when he sees the genuine smile on your pretty face and the joy when you pet his favorite horse. You turn to him, telling him that you love his ranch and praising him for turning an old abandoned farm into this pretty place.

"You are so passionate about the things you want, Sukuna, and you work hard for them. That's an admirable trait. This place is beautiful."

Sukuna smirks proudly at you, feeling this warmth in his chest again. He wraps a strong, tattooed arm around your waist and pulls you against him. And he knows exactly what he wants.

"This place is even more beautiful with you here. You remember what I said about enjoying my freedom out here? I feel free with you by my side, too. It doesn't feel like I am giving anything up when I am with you. It feels like I am gaining something."

There are happy tears shining in your eyes when you look up at him, and you smile and put a small hand on Sukuna's defined chest, right where his heart is beating strong and fast,

"I would love to live here with you, cowboy. I could help you with the crops and make sure you always have something warm to eat when you come home in the evening. I could even help with the horses and the cows, I think. And I can keep you company out here and keep you warm at night."

Sukuna doesn't believe in a God, but he thinks some kind of higher power or fate or whatever must have finally blessed him. Must have finally allowed a fallen angel like him some sort of heaven, too.

Sukuna smiles at you, a gentle, genuine smile that he never gives to anyone else, and he takes his cowboy hat off and puts it carefully onto your head,

"Then welcome to your new home, cowgirl."

SIGHHHHH, this cowboy makes me swoon 😭😭💗💗 I didn't expect this story to become so long, but I just couldn't stop writing. It was one of those moments where Sukuna took things into his hands and made me tell the whole story, and of course I do what my man wants ;)

I hope you enjoyed falling in love with Cowboy!Sukuna, too 💗

Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

There will be a Part 2 in which we see our life on Sukuna's ranch.

And once again: Thank you Émilie @sweetlandspos for drawing your beautiful and sexy Cowboy!Sukuna, who inspired me to write this AU!! I hope you find joy in this story!!

houndtooth [16]

hey ao3 besties, here is chapter 16. i'll post the full chap on here once i get home from work!! <3

Took you Like a Shot

Pairings- Rich Frat/fuckboi Toru x Preppy Sorority reader

Summary- One VERY drunk encounter between your greatest rival ever - on your last day of college- leads to you being knocked up. Satoru Gojo, a fuckboy, fratboy, rich little jerk, has been a rival of yours since you all met in College, every damn grade you fought for he got with ease. He crashed every Sorority party you threw. The two of you are so infamous in your rivalry, your friend groups were rivals, and for some reason, life is playing some damn joke on you both. Now... you have to tell him the news - but how Satoru takes it surprises you. Can you both raise a baby together!? And do you even really know each other?

Contents/Warnings- gonna be flashbacks to the rivalry/that night, nerdjo but make him a fratboy, enemies to kind of begrudging partners, but then as the pregnancy progresses, they fall in love hehe (gojo is an idiot) - fluffy and smutty, MDNI -will have explicit sex etc- 4 parts (I THINK) in this chap- flashbacks of explicit sex with dirty talk, weed smoking (Satoru and his boys aha) mentions of sex, lots of humor, enemies to loversss- WC- this chap- 8k- art in the banner by Yuana on X

Comments and reblogs so appreciated if you enjoyy <3

Masterlist - Playlist- Chapter Two>>> (coming soon)

Chapter One

It had been an absolutely filthy night, that led to your doctor coming in and informing you three months later-

'You're pregnant'

You came in for a normal checkup, you're on the pill and you have no sex life, aside from one encounter almost three months ago. A filthy, questionable ass encounter with what so happened to be your former 'bully' - rich boy, frat boy, pretty boy, pretentious boy- Satoru Gojo.

For years, the two of you were rivals, not just academic either, since you were both top of your class all through college, but at everything. He'd hold your notebooks high and laugh at you, he'd try to ruin and crash every sorority event he could. Known as the Queen and King of the campus, you ran the rivaling Sorority to his Fraternity. The amount of times you all had gone toe to toe was literally notorious, even your best friends hated each other on your behalf, starting an entire war between you all.

You have no clue how it happened, still, how the two of you had the best sex of your life at that damn party, fueled by drinks but also something you'd never admit- you've always wondered. Hearing those stories about his... skills, seeing his perfect body and the way his pretty lips smirked so cruelly in your direction, even after all these years- how it all led to this moment.

'Hah, sweets, ya finally admit I'm good at something?' Satoru had murmured in your ear, while he'd had you bent right over some bed at some party- both of you were seniors in college on your last and final party, finally you thought you'd be rid of him, of this ass of a man. He was going to live the rich life, working for his family, and you were moving on to a whole different career.

'One t-thing... that's it...' You had cried out when his cock had shoved in so deep, making you cum all over him, his fingers gripping your hips while he'd pumped deeper and deeper, impossibly until he'd been right on your cervix. 'F-fuck!'

'Fuck... you had a pussy like this and we've been fighting!?' Satoru is whispering, resting his snowy locks against your neck, biting it with sharp teeth as you milk his cock. 'So greedy, huh?'

'S-shut up, mnh- just... keep... there, there shit!' Satoru had slammed right against your cervix, feeling you pulsing around him, it had been too good, too tight, too fucking wet, he'd paused then, looking at your arched ass, your skirt shoved over your hips. 'Keep g-going, please...'

'M'gonna cum, tho-she's too tight- shit can I?' 

Your drunk ass had said- sure. You're precise on that pill, every day your alarm goes off in the morning, you take it. How could...

"Pregnant!?" You repeat. Unbelievable. No fucking way. You...

"Yes sweetie I suggest prenatal and an ultrasound, hmm?" The nurse says so sweetly, as you feel sick to your stomach, which your hand goes down to touch.

Pregnant. With rich, notorious fuckboy Satoru Gojo’s baby- now you would have to tell him!?

Shit.

You take the results in a shaky hand, mind swirling as the doctor goes on and on, some crazy distant humming in your head, there’s no way, it can’t be. You’re literally starting your journalism career, thinking you’d maybe gained a few pounds from stress and ramen, the interning was absolutely brutal, you’re never regular on your periods, hence the birth control in the first place.

Running coffees here and there, grabbing this and that for everyone above you, but you were now officially hired, and you were making good money for once, finally able to pay down some of your pesky student loans and get a nice car. You worked hard for it, for everything, despite many thinking leading a sorority meant you came from money, you were a scholarship girl.

That’s a huge reason you and Satoru always clashed, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, easily acing every test that you busted your ass for, things came easy to him, you worked for it. Achieving the highest you could in your graduating class, the little shit that came to school hungover grinned right next to you, like a goddamn plague, and you hoped that finally he was gone for good.

What bonded two people like you now?

Well…

“Do you need to go over your options, hunny?” One of the nurses says, touching your shoulder with a gentle smile, you shake your head then, clearing your throat.

“I just need to… think.”

You’re pacing back and forth in your apartment, feet padding gently along the hardwood floor, cell phone in your hand, staring at the phone number that just got sent to you by Shoko. She was Satoru’s friend and yours, which was rare given the ongoing student warfare zone you all created. You’d texted her a simple- hey do you have Gojo’s number- not going into details.

How do you even tell him?

What do you say!?

You psych yourself up, finally dialing it, when he picks up the phone after the second ring, murmuring - “Hello.” God, even him answering what he assumes is a stranger is snarky.

“Um, hey.” Gojo pauses at the sound of your voice, faltering just for a moment, as his friends bounce a basketball around a court outside, he sits down on the bench, vivid images filling his head. “It’s-”

“Think I don’t know your annoying voice by heart, sweetheart?” You roll your eyes, sighing and plopping down on your couch.

“Yeah, well… I got your number from Shoko.”

“Need a second round? Should have guessed.” He’s gesturing to Suguru and Sukuna, who roll their eyes at him, and he puts his voice down an octave. “I could be convinced.”

“Jesus christ, Gojo.” You almost hang up, feeling your tummy tighten then, almost nauseous, realizing you had to talk to him. “Are you, I don’t know, um… free for lunch or anything?” You despise the words falling from your lips.

“Asking me on a date, huh? So bold, I like it.” Satoru winks now at his friend’s shocked expressions, muting for a moment, telling them it was you.

“No fucking way.” Sukuna says, Suguru snorts in laughter and Satoru just grins, unmuting you again.

“I guess I could be convinced.” He purrs out those words, chuckling. “Hmm, we could go to that nice place on Hollywood ave hmm? Perfect Sushi.”

Your tummy growls, but then you frown, remembering that Sushi is on your damn list not to eat, you curse internally, peering at this list of everything you should never do or consume, and it specifically says raw fish right there. “Do they have cooked Sushi there?”

“Pshh, you’re such a prissy ass, can’t eat raw huh? Didn’t mind it raw from what I remember.” You hate this man.

“You know what never-”

“Shit, I was just kidding.” He panics, thinking you hung up, hearing your irritated sigh then. “Yeah I think they do. Why do you even wanna hang out, ya wanna nag me in person?” He spins his basketball effortlessly on his finger, acting all calm, as if he wasn’t dying to be buried in your perfect pussy again. “Miss being bitchy to me so bad?”

God he wanted to have you on his face, have you sucking him, he wanted for so much more than you all got to do, drunken fingers and your muted cries as he’d had a big hand tight over your mouth. His cock twitches under his basketball shorts just remembering how slick and hot you were, god how you fucking felt gripping him so damn tight.

Satoru had felt you pulsing around him as he reached his arm around you, pressing his fingertips to your clit in circles, as you’re crying out against his palm, practically drooling against him. ‘There you go, cumming so easy f’me huh?’ he taunts, as his own eyes roll back, feeling your pussy drool against his hand.

‘Mnh!’ was all you managed to murmur against his hand, as he feels your gummy walls spasm around his cock, his blue eyes roll back at how perfect you feel, how long he’s dreamed of this.

‘F-finally got you to shut up, hmm?’ He taunts you, normally you’d have something smart to say, but not as he’s overstimulating your little clit, pulling it away as you damn near collapse on the mattress, your thighs shaking, he wants to kiss you so bad, but you’re burying your face, arching your ass.

‘F-fuck you, Gojo- ah!’

The memories are so vivid Satoru can barely calm his thoughts, hearing you say his name in that irritated little voice, the one that drove him insane from day fucking one, the moment he’d met you. Prissy little thing with so much to prove, he thinks you still feel that way, which the biggest secret Satoru had for you had almost spilled on that last drunken night, the night he was inside you was…

He's always wanted you, not that he'd ever admit that however.

Ever.

“Is like three okay?” You're interrupting his thoughts now, as he clears his throat.

“Three rounds?”

You’re scowling at the phone as you question your life’s choices at this very moment. “Three o'clock, my god, for lunch.”

“Sounds good, it gives us time later, to… you know.” You glare at the phone, unbelievable, he’s ridiculous! 

“Time for what?” Satoru chuckles at your high pitched question.

“Don't be shy, sweets, no need to pretend. I remember it all in vivid detail, every little bit.” Your cheeks heat up, hand clutching the phone tightly, trying to calm yourself and focus.

“Just lunch, that’s all I’m asking you for. Sounds good?”

“Want me to pick you up in my-”

“No, I'll meet you. Okay um…. Bye.” You hang up, breath coming quickly, you couldn't just tell him on the damn phone, this needed to be in person.

The thought of his pretty yet annoying ass presence damn near makes your head spin… would he think it's all a joke? Some scam to get with him or get money?

You're fucking terrified, standing and staring in the mirror, rubbing your tummy and frowning as you do. A damn baby… Likely raising it alone, knowing Satoru all these years, partying, insane and so immature. Even on the phone, he’s so damn cocky and self sure, that this must absolutely be what you want, to have him, as if you are over here pining away.

The sex was amazing to put it lightly, and sure if he was a decent guy, and not a fucking ass of a man, you’d have done it again, but the walk of shame that morning had been the most embarrassing day of your life. His little smirk after you woke up, plump lips too damn glossy for his own good, yawning and stretching half naked, cock already hard as he’d tapped his lap.

‘Another round, sweets? Come to daddy.’

You scoff even at the memory, at the audacity of fuckboi Satoru Gojo, you had run out so quickly he hadn’t had a moment to speak, and you swore to yourself never, ever again. Who cared if his cock was so big it hit places you didn’t know existed, and who cared if you’ve never felt that way, fuck you wish he actually wasn’t as good at it as he was.

Perfect at everything, infuriatingly, even fucking.

You get a text from the guy you were currently at least flirting with a bit here and there, the one you suggested going on a date, and then it all starts to hit, you’re pregnant and quite likely going to be some single mom. You couldn’t just go on dates, everything is completely different, maybe forever truly.

“Twenty Two year old single mom.” You grumble, sighing a bit as you text him you’re busy.

Busy.

*****

Satoru waits nervously at the restaurant, he doesn’t really do dates, he usually spends his time in the bedroom with a girl then runs right off. Shit, he’s never even gone without a condom before you, but when you’d said hurry up and put it in, who the fuck was he to tell you no? Not only had it felt superb, he never wanted to leave that perfect pussy.

Of course you would have the most perfect pussy.

You had to be the best at everything, all the time, didn’t you? Always competing for that top spot, but Satoru always just barely got past you, that .01% of that GPA, winning every contest over you always by just a tiny bit. From the moment you glared up at him and crossed your arms, he knew it, he had to do everything he could to win against your cute little ass.

Here’s the thing… Satoru never hated you, but he loves to say he does, you both say you do, or… well, said. Considering you slept with him and didn’t say a single word after, it’s not like he’s hard to find, but each of you actively refused to add each other on socials, though Satoru will admit he stalks your IG, you’re too fucking pretty not to do so, not that he’d ever like a post.

Once he accidentally did, god he wanted to be like those pathetic simps in your comments, but he’s not that, he’s Satoru Gojo. Women come to him, women come easy too, you of course were never one to come near him in that way, no you’d look at him getting smacked in the face on campus with a grin, vowing to your friends that you’d never be one of his conquests.

That night, though, it was like he lost himself, the most stupid, corny shit Satoru could think of, that last night of his freedom before being forced to take over his family’s business. You and everyone probably thought he wanted to, but of course he fucking didn’t, he didn’t want a part of the Gojo corporation in any way, shape or form.

Satoru felt lost, honestly.

Self sure, confident, conceited clearly, talking far too much shit and laughing, picking on you every chance he got, showing up to all your sorority parties in various stages of undress to lure your friends to him. He’ll never forget him, Sukuna and Suguru crashing your ABC party, wearing nothing but cut open beer boxes, and you so happened to have some white claw box made bikini.

God you’d been sexy, but when he stole all the attention? Oh he’s never seen you more mad.

Well no, he has.

Gojo loved to make you mad, because you’re so damn cute when your nose scrunches up, when your pretty eyes narrow, there was nothing like your huffs as you would cross your arms and shift your hips just so. And if there was anything Gojo was absolutely perfect at, amongst well damn near everything, it was making you absolutely furious.

Finally Satoru sees you, dressed in this pretty blue summer dress that juts out just a bit at the waist, making his heart race for just a moment at how pretty you are. It’s not like he forgot… but god. Are your tits bigger he wonders, or is he just obsessed with them, as always, looking too hard. Your cheeks are this beautiful color, your eyes so bright, like… some damn glow about you.

How corny is he lately.

He puts on a smirk as he leans back, waving with his fingers to gesture you over, and you look at him so damn seriously, sitting across from him, hands entwined together in front of you on the table for a moment, as you eye him carefully. “Gojo, um… how are you?’

Who the fuck is this girl in your body!?

You don’t nervously ask shit, you tell Gojo to fuck off, you glare or scowl while he smirks, what’s this… shy ass shit? He frowns a bit now, you exhale and slide off your purse, letting it sit on the seat next to you, he can’t stop staring at your lips, clearly bitten to fucking hell.

He tries to feign that he’s fine, that he hasn’t missed you, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. He missed your daily arguments on campus, he missed you being a total brat. He misses your scent, god that vanilla sugar body spray was haunting his very dream.

He acts as if he hadn’t died to hit you up, but he stopped himself. He couldn’t go that far, not with you, not with what you did to him, how you’ve damn near destroyed any game for himself any longer. That one night with you had sunk into him so deeply, he wishes it was just good pussy, and not whatever this was.

He’s jerked it off to you every fucking night since, to the point is damn dick doesn’t even work, he sure also wouldn’t admit that he can’t even fuck a girl because you were so good. Some evil witch that did something, it must be, he has at this point just given up trying, until whatever curse you gave him falls the fuck off.

But god you look good in front of him.

He should tell you, but instead he swipes a hand through his silky white locks and smirks right at you. “Missed me so badly, sweets?”

You roll your pretty eyes as the menu comes, smiling and thanking the hostess, a smile reserved for anyone in the world but him, even when he’d had you cumming all over him, you weren’t smiling. No, but you were drooling then.

‘Ah, look at you, so fuckin pathetic f’me, huh? Thought you hated me, sorority brat’ Satoru had huffed, as he’d fingered your cunt, curling inside of your slick walls, watching your pretty fucked out face. ‘Just from fingers?’

‘I do h-hate you- mnh!’ Your sparkly manicured nails dug into his broad shoulders as your tight walls convulsed around him, as he hit that spot that no man had ever found in a moment.

Perfect at everything, stupid Satoru.

‘Feel her, god she’s so desperate, huh?’

“Fuck you I- there, shit!’ you’d rolled your hips, grinding right on his hand, pussy drooling as you came from his fingers before he’d even put his cock inside you, and Satoru’s cock was leaking against his boxers, twitching as he pictures how perfect you’d felt around him. ‘Fuck you for being so g-good at that!’

‘Oh, I’ll fuck you, sweetheart.’ He’d turned you then, whispering a ‘bend over, just like that, gonna be a big stretch, hmm?’

Satoru struggles to calm his memory, focusing on that sexy mouth of yours moving, realizing words are coming out of them, blinking to focus.

“How are you doing, Gojo?” You ask softly, always Gojo, you never called him Satoru, and he always called you sweets, short stuff, your last name, also never your first.

But he wanted to call you a lot of things, one of them being-

Stop that Satoru.

“I’m doing great, of course, miss me so much?” He teases, winking at you and sipping on the sickeningly sweet Shirley temple he’d had them buy, you just grab a water, hand flitting to your tummy for a moment. “You’re not sick are you?”

“No, not sick just… yeah we needed to talk. Is that okay?”

Satoru leans forward, raising a thin white brow. “You seem weird, everything okay?”

“Well… shit. I guess I’ll just say this. Um…” You tuck your hair behind your ear, looking out the window at the bustling city for a moment, before looking back at him. “Remember that night?”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to do all this to have a repeat.” His hand comes to your thigh, and that’s when you curse this pregnancy, because your nipples tighten, your cunt gets hot and wet from that.

Fuck hormones.

You take a breath, glaring as you always do at Satoru, the only time you never had was when he’s had your face with a slutty O for your mouth, your eyes rolled back, nails gripping those sheets. You shove his hand off, hoping he couldn’t feel your heat that quickly, as your body responds stupidly in a damn sushi restaurant.

“It’s not that, it’s important. Can you ever be serious in your life!?” You say quietly, and it’s his turn to glare, taking his hand back, sipping his drink again.

“Well just spit it out. What is all this, then?”

“It’s… I… You…” Shit, if ever you needed a drink it was now, and you damn sure wouldn’t have one for a good six months or more.

“It’s… I…. You…” He mocks, and you stand then, so furious your heart is racing, snatching up your purse.

“Never mind, I should have known you’re-”

“Shit, just sit. Sorry. Okay?” He grips your delicate wrist in his big hand, and even that is wrecking you, against your better judgement and everything you feel. “I’m sorry, it seems… serious. Just sit down and spit it out.”

You sit back down now, shifting as you both make your orders, a thankful distraction. As the waitress leaves, you sigh. “I don’t want anything from you, first off, so don’t think that.”

“What?” He blinks in confusion.

“I don’t need help, I can do it myself.”

“Do what!?”

“But you have to know… it’s the right thing to do, to tell you.” You look up at the ceiling, gathering your thoughts.

“Is this… are you in love with me, because of how good it was? Shit, that’s okay baby, everyone-”

“I’m pregnant.”

“What!?” You just sit there, seriously staring, as he blinks, looking at fuller breasts, your damn glow, thinking of every dumb thing he’s heard. “You’re… by who?” He whispers, and you flush then, shifting in your seat, sipping more of your water, condensation cool on your hot palm, your skin is burning, heart is racing.

“I was on the pill, religiously, I swear, I never missed one. Shit, until I found out I never missed… I… never would have done it like we did if I knew.” You feel sick as he gapes at you, his pretty blue eyes bulging out damn near, his mouth dropped open. “I expect no help, no involvement, we’re young. I just-”

“This a joke, right?” You take another breath, hand gripping the glass, eyeing those around you all, engulfed in conversations.

“It’s not a joke.” He’s laughing now, smacking his thigh, and your jaw tenses as he does.

“It’s you and your damn friends, someone recording!? Hah-”

“It’s not a joke.” You clear your throat now, leaning in your purse and pulling out the papers, with your name, the results, watching his expression shift, brows drawing low, his jaw tense. “It’s only been you, no one else for an entire year.”

“A whole year?” He eyes you again, and you flush under his gaze, as his hands shake, hands you’ve never seen shake, hands that dribble basketballs, that tossed footballs, all with ease.

Hands that…

Fuck, don’t think of it.

“I’m not… I was too busy.” Besting Gojo, competing with Gojo, you had no time for shit with him, your anger at him shone so brightly it was hard to think about men. “As I said, you don’t need to pay for anything, this isn’t that conversation, this is just me letting you know. I’m keeping it.”

Satoru continues to blink at you, staring open mouthed, at your face, then your body, then back to your face, over and over, while the waitress brings out the food, smiling curiously at the two of you. Satoru doesn’t make a move to touch his food, running his hand through his now messy white locks again, as his mind spins.

“I know you’re wealthy, I don’t want you thinking I want some piece of it. I’ll take care of them alone, please don’t worry.” You touch your tummy, the motion making Satoru fucking feral in some way he can’t put together, just continuing to stare at you in utter shock as the sushi sits in front of the two of you. “I can leave, now, we don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?” He murmurs finally, voice hoarse.

“Act like we are civil, act like we’re anything but college enemies, fucking rivals, not even friends. God I know you hate me, I know this was a mistake.”

“A mistake?” He whispers.

“Yes, for both of us. You don’t deserve your life uprooted, sure I can’t stand you, but this is my fuck up. I said those words…”

‘Cum in me, f-fucking cum in me, mnh…’ you’d arched your back, as his long fingers wrapped your throat, god he’d never felt anything like you.

‘Want me to fill your pussy s’good, huh lil brat?’ you just whine, muscles clenching on his cock, and he’d groaned in your ear then, shoving deep inside your drooly cunt. ‘Beg for it, then’

Oh, you had.

You hated him for it.

“It’s my fault, so don’t worry. But I wanted to be transparent, but I am… indeed, pregnant.”

“Pregnant, like, with a baby?” Satoru whispers, and You giggle then, for the first time since you found out, covering your mouth just a bit as he just stares.

“Yeah, a baby.”

“Mine…” His words send something through the both of you.

“Yours, but only if you want to be involved. I know it was a hate fuck, we’re young, we have lives-”

“You got a… like that scan shit set up?”

“Ultrasound?” He nods, nervously, hands clenching the table so hard you see the veins popping up through his thin skin. “I do, next week. I mean it is a couple months already, so I will see something, not like… the sex but…”

“Can I go?”

You blink in shock now. “You want to?”

“Yeah. I mean… why wouldn’t I?” He rubs the back of his neck, as the life he thought, the mundane one of following his damn family, of being a pawn in a bigger scheme, everything flashes.

It changes.

He’s scared shitless, but…

“I want to be involved. If you want me to be.” You blink back tears, but you fail, and if it’s one thing, Satoru Gojo has never seen his preppy ass Sorority rival cry, not fucking once.

He falters as those tears run down your cheeks, he leans over, hesitantly, the only physical contact aside from that fateful night was him shoving at you teasingly, or you smacking at him. Shit you all hadn’t hugged, you never even kissed aside from that night, sloppy and messy. But he doesn’t stop, until his thumb brushes your cheek, and you gasp.

“Shit I’m crying. Stupid hormones.” You huff now, swiping at your own eyes with shaky little hands. “You really wanna go?”

“Yeah if it’s cool?”

Satoru’s shocking you, the world tilts on its axis, like you’re having some insane dream. This can’t be real, can it? It’s fuckboi, frat boy Gojo, the man who goes through girls like they’re candy, the man who takes nothing serious, who has the world handed to him.

“Gojo, if you want to go of course you can, to any and all appointments, but you’re under no obligation, and please know I can cover the costs.”

“I know you’d never take my money, shit even if I offered, stubborn ass little brat that you are.” You manage a breathless giggle, the second one, realizing he is still brushing that thumb against your cheek, before he clears his throat. “So, tell me what day, I'll be there.”

“Yeah, are you sure? It will make it so… real, you know?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Now eat your cooked sushi, aren’t you like eating for two or some shit?”

You take your chopsticks with a shaky hand, exhaling. “I was reading, I think they are like the size of a pea maybe. But, this is yummy looking.”

“Gonna be a huge ass baby, shit.”

“Oh god!” You eye his lanky body, and he’s grinning, Satoru is grinning!? Shocking you further.

Maybe you don’t know him like you think?

“Tits are gonna get so big.”

Never mind.

*****

“An ultrasound!? A baby? Fuck…” Suguru Geto inhales the blunt, sucking the smoke into his lungs as Satoru nervously paces Sukuna and Suguru’s apartment, Satoru chose to live in his own place, closer to work. But he frequently gets shitfaced and crashes out at their place.

“Sounds fucking insane, shit.” Sukuna chuckles, as he’s hitting a bong, inhaling and exhaling, broad shoulders shaking as he coughs. “You look like you could use a hit or something.

“Before the ultrasound? Shit I need more than weed. I’m freaking the fuck out right now.”

“Imagine you as a dad though hah!” Sukuna smacks his thigh, as Satoru glares now, stopping his pacing while the music plays, the same music Satoru remembers doing keg stands and playing beer pong in togas to, only to now have the possibility of being responsible for a whole human being.

“Can’t even keep a plant alive, shit.” Suguru says in between laughs, and Satoru raises a white brow at the two of them on the couch.

“You two are so supportive.”

“Well shit, she said you don’t have to be involved, you can always just like… send money and shit? Do you really want a whole kid?” Sukuna asks, and Satoru takes a breath, pacing once more as he runs hands through disheveled hair over and over.

“Do I want a whole kid, no, I never even… I mean I figured eventually, as the Gojo heir, blah blah blah.” Satoru slumps in a nearby recliner, as Suguru hands him the blunt, frowning a bit now.

“You do need a hit. You’re young, it’s not time to give your family fuckin’ heirs yet, is it?”

“They’d probably be delighted.” Satoru rolls those cerulean eyes, inhaling the smoke into his lungs and leaning back, staring up at the ceiling, as the black fans above them swirl, moving the puffy clouds of smoke all around. His nostrils fill with the scent of the Sativa, wishing he could make sense of his thoughts. “Not delighted that it’s out of wedlock and unplanned.”

“Imagine her marrying you.” Sukuna and Suguru laugh loudly again, as Satoru hits the blunt again, not passing it.

“The fucks that mean?”

“She hates you. God I think more than anyone.” Suguru says, and Satoru smirks just a bit.

“She sure didn’t hate this dick.”

“Oh!” He’s slapping hands with his friends as Sukuna and Suguru start to make the most obscene gestures, while you call, and he shushes them quickly, trying to compose himself.

“Hello?”

“Gojo, hey. Um, ultrasound is in an hour, I’m heading out soon if you want to meet up?”

“Why don’t I have my driver pick you up?” He asks, and Suguru and Sukuna continue the gestures, making Satoru snort in laughter, the weed starting to enter his bloodstream.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just thought it would be more convenient in this traffic.” He shoots a wink at his friends.

“I mean… sure?” Satoru mouths yes, pumping his fist, clearing his throat now.

“It’ll be easier this way, alright send me your addy I’ll head out.”

“All right.” You just hang up, such a rude little thing. Satoru has changed your name to Sorority Brat in his phone for a good reason.

“What are you gonna do though, man?” Suguru murmurs thoughtfully, his dark violet eyes narrowed, clearly blitzed. “Gonna like… be with her?”

“Could cum in her whenever now.” Sukuna bursts out in laughter as Satoru glares at the two of them.

“Grow up…” They blink at him, then Satoru grins wide. “Nah, that would be a perk, because her pussy my god.”

They both scooch up, elbows on their thighs, avidly staring at Satoru now. “Details, man, it’s like the one girl you never told us about?” Sukuna asks.

“Because you’re in love.”

“Pshh, in love!?”

“Haven’t seen you with anyone since.” Suguru earns Satoru’s middle finger, as he puts out the blunt, stretching and earning their pouts.

“Bet she’s so good, though, all angry and shit, bet she’s a freak.” Satoru doesn’t even know if you’re a freak necessarily, but as Suguru agrees, he glares at them both, crossing his arms.

“This has been the worst pep talk in fucking history.”

“Shit, what’s your decision?” Suguru asks, and Satoru’s mind races, peeking at his watch now.

“I think I’ll make it when I like… see it?”

“Alright big Daddy, then if you decide to be involved we’ll be like… their uncles and shit.” Suguru says, and Satoru grimaces.

“God no, you’ll ruin my kid.”

“Fuck off now.” Sukuna starts hitting his blunt again, Satoru walks out away from them and spritzes cologne all along himself, he knows your prissy self never smoked weed, no you were a little goodie goodie. He thinks the only time he saw you drink was a little at parties, but never like that last night.

He remembers just looking at you asleep when he’d woken up, and the tenderness he felt when he had brushed your hair off your pretty face, and you’d stirred a bit. For a moment he felt his heart hammer in his chest, stone cold sober, seeing the bite marks he’d left on your delicate skin, feeling affection like he couldn’t describe, Satoru never felt that way.

He didn’t cuddle, he didn’t linger.

He ran out before they could wake up, he ran out like you did to him, perhaps he was a little nicer about it, though, you’d given no fucks when you darted out the damn door in a hurry. He had acted cocky though, full on hard just by the damn thought of your slick sticking to his cock, but instead of perhaps kissing you, he’d patted his lap and been a little shit.

He hated the recognition on your face, like he’d been a mistake, so he decided to shove you out of his brain, though he clearly failed.

Jogging down the stairs, he has his driver sent in your direction, and you get the text he’s there, stepping out in front of your little house, cute Satoru thinks, it’s small but it’s immaculate from the exterior. You have pink flowers and succulents all over the front of it when he steps out, eyeing your pretty dress, nerves starting to eat at him, but he puts on an easy smile.

“Ready to go see this little parasyte?’

“A what!?”

“Technically, it sort of is. Right, you’re like its host.” Your mouth is wide open, as you touch your tummy, and he curses. “Shit…”

“A parasyte, you’re calling our… I mean I guess my… the baby a-”

“I’m sure it’s a cute parasyte? It has a pretty host.” Satoru tries to put on the charm, the smolder, as you stare at him in shock.

Was it shocking, this was Gojo.

“Dear God.”

How’d you end up pregnant with this idiot’s baby?!

You slide into the car as you shake your head, and he covers his face, grimacing as he realizes he just told his… god what even were you, a baby mama!? That his baby was a… parasyte. Well, it is, and Satoru would typically just argue with you and let you know he’s correct and you’re wrong, but he keeps quiet, feeling you seething.

“Fire signs.” He mumbles, you look at him again.

“What?”

“You’re a fire sign, it’s why you’re so feisty. I am too, you know.” You relax just a bit, curiously.

“You believe in astrology?” You ask in shock, for as long as you’ve known Satoru Gojo, the two of you don’t really know each other.

“Baby I’m the most Saggitarius man there is.” You giggle again, fuck that’s three giggles Satgoru has counted, and how it lights up your already glowing makes him ache for you, suddenly realizing one of his long legs is brushing against you. Your warmth alone makes him throb, the vanilla sugar filling the space in the car.

“You certainly are the epitome of a Saggitarius. Don’t call me feisty, yuck.” You shove at him playfully almost, pausing a bit when you realize his body feels far too good against yours.

You may or may not have masturbated last night, and he may or may not have popped in your head, over and over. But, don’t worry, because Satoru has spent months jerking his thick length to the thought of you, not that either of you would admit that it may or may not have happened.

“This baby would be a fire sign.” You murmur then, letting your hand fall, and nervously fidgeting, Gojo’s long limbs take over so much of the car, as big as it is, Gojo’s always taken over everything, even apparently your senses.

“Would it?” He asks quietly, for once just a little serious it seems.

“Yeah, an Aries if it comes when it should.”

“So it’ll be a brat like you.”

“Psh, like you.” You roll your eyes, and the two of you fall into a bit of a silence, so much unspoken between you. “Do you know if…”

“That’s why I want to see. Make it real?”

You actually nod in understanding, surprising him then. “I get it.”

The ultrasound tech is rolling the wand over cold gel soon, as you’re embarrassingly propped up with your feet in stirrups, and Satoru stands to the side, glaring at the man who’s inserting this wand in you. He gets angry that he’s getting such a view, he doesn’t even think he saw you that much.

What he remembers…

Your pussy is very pretty.

You wince a bit as the doctor smiles up at you. “Tight muscles, huh?”

Satoru snorts in laughter, and you glare. “What!?”

“You are so tight.”

“Gojo!” You glare, and even the doctor laughs, also earning your scowl, which makes them both sober up.

“Sorry, Miss. Alright… relax, would you?” How do you relax as a doctor is shoving a wand in your coochie and your enemy, who got you pregnant somehow, is turning red holding in his lewd thoughts!? “Look at the screen.”

You and Satoru both look over now, your breath catches then, as does his, when the doctor begins to tap keys on the keyboard, and you hear it for the first time, this little… heartbeat. It’s a heartbeat.

“There it is, congratulations you two. About… ten weeks?” You’re enamored as you stare at the screen, and he moves the wand inside you. “Look there, that’s the little baby.”

Baby.

A baby.

It’s all real.

Satoru’s completely silent as tears fill your eyes, a myriad of emotions, some that you’re so connected already to a little peanut inside you, some that you don’t know how you’ll do this, some of your life. How will it alter, how will it go, what will people think… and what does the man next to you think? What will he do!?

But overwhelmingly as you feel yourself begin to cry, and the screen turns off, you feel warmth spread, touching your tummy in wonder, there’s a damn baby in your body. Your baby. Something you never considered or thought of, you figured much, much later in life, not now.

And you’d likely be…

Alone in this.

“I’ll go get a picture printed for you two.” The doctor smiles kindly, as you’re left alone, with a for once silent Satoru Gojo.

You hesitate to look at him, a stunned expression on his face as you sit up, closing your legs and biting your lower lip, he finally looks at you and exhales, seeing your tear streaked cheeks. A girl he never knew to cry or giggle has done both, and a man you never thought to be serious or quiet… was.

“Satoru um…”

“Satoru?” He asks quietly, and you flush.

“Sorry…”

“No, I don’t mind, just… crazy. This is crazy. There’s a whole life inside you!? And we made it?” You sigh, nodding then, and he shocks you as he leans down, as you’re sitting in the bed, coming so close to you, eyes swirling storms of emotions.

“You can back out now, it’s okay. I won’t put this on you, keeping it is an insane idea but… it feels right to me?” He tilts your chin up, leaning closer, to where you can taste the sweetness of his breath, as your heart pounds right in your chest. “But if you’re backing out, do it now, it will hurt… fuck it will hurt more if you get too involved, okay? Do it now.”

“I’m not backing out of shit.” You gasp, and he exhales, wiping your tears away. “We both did this. I’ll not live in some world knowing my baby is raised with no help of mine in any way, fuck that.”

“But you-”

“I get it, we… aren’t… together. But in this I will be.”

“Satoru, I think I may have a cardiac arrest  before I get this baby out.” You sniffle and he smirks a bit.

“So unbelievable that I’d want to?”

“Yes. The Gojo I know…”

“You may not know me as well as you think. And maybe I don’t know you that much… aside from I agree about that tight-”

“I swear!” You shove at him, as he snorts in laughter, still a little shit, as they bring in two pictures, and Satoru takes one thoughtfully.

“That’s it, huh?” He tilts his head curiously. “Looks like me.”

“It looks like nothing yet, what?” You’re taking tissue and cleaning up a bit, as they give you privacy to pull back on your panties, but Satoru gives you no privacy, just looking. “You could turn?”

“Why, that’s one benefit you know.”

“What?”

“Could fuck any time, cum inside whenever.”

“Oh you wish.” You shove at his chest, and he’s grinning and wiggling his brows, grabbing your waist, pulling you against him.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.”

“Shut it.” Yes.

“Sex is good for pregnancy.”

“You’re so full of shit! I can’t with you. Rizzing me up at a gyno?”

“Perfect place, see that doctor, he wants a piece.”

“You’re so dumb, I swear.” You look at the picture then, thumb brushing against the baby’s… maybe it’s a face?

“Are we gonna live together?”

“I mean… what?” You eye him in shock.

“When the baby’s here.”

“No, we don’t have to do all that, we live close. Can you imagine us living together, we’d kill each other.” He envisions it, the fights surely but… the sex, and seeing you in the morning?

“Or fuck. Alot.”

“That’s how this happened.” You mumble, and soon you’re back home, and trying to ignore your body’s insane responses while he stands on your porch, looking far too fucking sexy. “Thank you for being there.”

“You thanking me? the world is ending.”

“Hush. I appreciate this, you standing by me. You don’t have to.”

“I… want to. Um, what will we say?”

You bite your lip more, until he gently takes it out from under your top row of teeth, brushing against the indentations. “We could say we’re together, if you don’t mind, dating I guess? My parents would trip if they knew it’s like…”

“Same. My parents would be happy for a Gojo heir though.” You hear it, the surprising resentment in his voice.

There’s a lot you don’t know.

“Well, I can act like I like you for them if you want.” You tease, and he leans against your doorway, so fucking tall, just looming over you, and you have to clench your hands not to give in to the temptation of touching him.

“Act like you like me- you?”

“I could! If you could act like you like me, in front of my family.”

“How will we explain the whole not living together thing?”

“It’s new, it’s 2025 Gojo, not 1810. We’ll be okay. You're so old school huh, gonna marry me?”

“You’d leave me at the altar.” You both laugh again, as he straightens up now. “Alright, so when should we tell them?”

“When you want to. So work on those acting skills. I’ll set up brunch with mine, you set up dinner with yours?”

“Sounds good. Alright don’t miss Daddy too much.” You snort and roll your eyes, turning away now.

“Daddy? Whatever.”

Satoru presses you against the door, wrapping an arm around your waist, pressing a hand gently on your tummy, splaying the expanse of it with long fingers, as your breath comes quicker and quicker. “Could swear you called me daddy when I beat up that pretty pussy hmm?”

You falter, whining softly, hating your body’s reaction, scowling right up at him, your hand on your doorknob, while this tall ass of a man makes your body light up. “Never called you daddy, no way.” Your voice is a pathetic whisper, why does he do this to you, you want to arch into his damn touch, press against his length, to the point you make yourself stiffen.

“Oh? Must have been the liquor.” He caresses your face, leaning so close you wildly think he’ll kiss you, and you know damn well you can’t handle that, not with your pussy soaking your damn panties just from this.

You hate Satoru Gojo, and he hates you.

This is… because you both are having a baby.

Right?

“It must have been.”

“Ah, I see. Good night, then sweetheart.” He leans his lips up, kissing the top of your head, a gesture so oddly sweet it doesn’t even fit him. “Text me the details, Sorority brat.”

“Sure will, Frat boy.” He sticks his tongue out as you do, walking in and leaning against the door, overwhelmed by the scent of his cologne, the feel of his hands, the memories that surfaced. You slide down it slowly, burying your face in your hands, as your body trembles with this insane need.

Shit. A baby with your enemy?

A baby with Frat Boy Gojo?

Faking that you like him, would it really be that fake?

Satoru’s leaning against it too, for just a moment, trying to compose himself… finally he’s in the back of the car again, as his driver looks  in the rearview mirror curiously, tired eyes focusing as Satoru looks at the picture again. The little peanut that’s apparently a…

A baby.

With his enemy.

An enemy he really wants to be inside again.

“Everything alright, Mr. Gojo?” Kiyotaka asks, Satoru runs a hand through his hair now, leaning back in his seat as he peers out the dark tinted windows.

“I’m having… a baby with a girl who hates me.”

“Why does she hate you?” Kiyotaka asks, driving off, as Satoru chuckles just a bit, remembering bits and pieces of college, out of order, out of sync.

“Because honestly, I was kind of a complete dick to her?”

“That’s… oddly self observant.”

“You saying I’m a dick to you?”

“No Mr. Gojo!”

“I’m kidding, relax.” Kiyotaka’s tense shoulders relax when Satoru leans forward, hand on his shoulder through the little divider that’s opened. “Do you know shit about kids at all?”

“I have nephews, they’re pretty good kids. But babies, not really.”

“I could ask my parents but they basically had nannies raise me.”

“Many nannies, I heard.”

“Well, I was a menace to be honest. Where do I learn about these… things?”

“Babies?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I think there are books?”

“Hmm.” Satoru pulls out his phone then.

Fratboy Gojo🙄(yes that’s his name in your phone now, no you’re not sorry): Should I order us baby books?

Sorority Brat💦😻(of course that’s your name in his phone): Yes, if you want to? That would be good. Thank you… for today.

Fratboy Gojo🙄: Two thank yous!? That baby is making you a mush.

Sorority Brat💦😻: Whatever!

Satoru snorts then, but when you’re in your bed later that night, nibbling on a bag of hot cheetos that have been screaming at you all day, how is that your first craving!? He writes to you again, and you pick your phone up with your clean hand, sans hot cheeto dust, rolling your eyes.

Fratboy Gojo🙄: Need some nudes for your spank bank?

You’re gonna kill him.

Sorority Brat 💦😻: Good night, Gojo.

Satoru frowns, because his dick is already in his hand, but for a moment you think about it, and would it be so bad to-

No, no no.

You aggressively eat those hot cheetos, wondering just what you were in for with that damn boy in your life now, shit forever.

“Fuck.” You’ll never drink again.

I say four parts but I feel like this is gonna be long aha, bc god Gojo is a lil shithead hehe (as I like him) this just a teensy bit similar to the Knocked Up movie premise so expect a LOT of humor here! <3

Taglist one- @jannythewriter-pt2 @gojosoups @lycoris-radiata-4-sale @cutiepi-iee @poisonousspiderlily @closerbutnevertogether @myahfig4 @shokosbunny @coq1myun @rinny27 @abibliolife @coq1myun @megumisthirdog @p4lli @turtlebangtan @webshooterrr9 @aldebrana @msqudo18 @s0ulsnatchaaa @ovela @midnaamethyste @nearlyfuckingwitches @shibataimu @msniks @missthatgirl @fantasy1nightmare0 @maddyhehehehhe @yourst3pm0mmy @haithamsbb @rentheannihilator @ilovebeansyay @lemonswirlz @dilfkentolover @evelynxxo @bkgnotsuma @suki91 @burntasian @nakiich @hyunjinsruinedpainting @miniv1x3n @minascasket @ihrtmack @contaminatedcupcake @girlwithn0j0b @tokyi999 @vamqyx @queenofthekill @verriees @vullzo @jkslaugh97

who’s your (baby) daddy. [4] 

╰┈➤ After being dumped by your boyfriend of 3 years, you decide to switch things up and go on your own version of a “hot girl summer”—subsequently finding yourself with a surprise that would arrive in 9 months time. The catch? You have absolutely no idea which of the men you slept with is your baby’s daddy.

𖨆♡𖨆 nanami x reader, gojou x reader, toji x reader, sukuna x reader

# tattoo artist sukuna, talks of pregnancy, semi-public sex, mentions of blood, reader gets a tattoo, mentions of food, fem!reader, pregnant!reader, ieiri is a girlboss, gojo is actually sweet in this, soft!sukuna

‗ ❍ masterlist  

If you thought your already wacky life could not get anymore crazier, that was nothing compared to the shitshow that waited for you one fine Monday.

Nothing was out of the blue; it had been two weeks since that altercation in the OBGYN room and you decided that even if Gojo would walk out, at least you still had your job and burgeoning career to support you.

… or not. 

“You’re fired.”

For the longest second, you did not speak, swivelling your head to the side to check if there were cameras spotlighting you; whether there was a man in a chicken suit standing in the corner waiting to jump out and yell you’ve been pranked!

But, there were no cameras—not even a goofy dude in a chicken suit—just the strict-faced new HR and Mia’s pinched expression. 

You gazed at her in aghast, crying, “Huh? You can’t just fire me for being pregnant!” 

The woman with slicked-red lips pouted those obviously fake plumpers at you in an attempt to seem sympathetic yet righteous at the same time. “It’s not because you’re pregnant, Y/N. That whistleblower piece put us in hot water and we have to cut our losses.”

Turning your gaze to your boss, you gesture wildly for her to butt in. “Mia—!” 

“Y/N is one of the best and she’s right—she’s pregnant. What would other companies say when they hear how badly we treated someone who has been with us from the very start?” Despite your boss’ furrowed brow and solid argument, Miss I-Have-A-Stick-Up-My-Ass did not seem too pleased.

“I understand that Y/N has been with us for a long time, but trouble is trouble and she is plenty of it.” 

Knowing that not even your boss could fight off regional HR if they chose to take action, you stood up, albeit with some difficulty with your four-month baby bump. Sure, you may not have been the model employee; you often stole sachets of coffee from the pantry, occasionally threw up in your waste paper basket because you were too tired to walk to the toilet and even once used Mia’s face spray liberally to cool down your neck in a flash of maternal hormones, but you were an asset.

You were an asset to this company. 

Or at least, that was what you had deluded yourself into thinking. Hands cradling your palms, you fixed her with a determined glare. “Look whatever-your-name is—”

“It’s Kuragi-san.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you muttered dismissively. “If being a mother has taught me one thing, it’s that integrity and the truth is very, very important.” You swallowed at the thought of your future now that you were jobless, but the anger forced you to spill out the words you might not otherwise have had the courage to say. 

“And if I were to be working for an organisation that does not value the truth—as painful and dangerous as it can be sometimes—then you can keep destroying this once grand company with your narrow-minded, and frankly, cowardly ways.”

You spun on your heel, passing Mia who gave you a high-five. The clacks of your low heels resounded through the halls, and you almost missed how the other staff—from the junior reporters to even the office girls—drew their heads back into the cubicles, chagrined at having been found eavesdropping on your bombastic statement.

But after the high of standing up to Kuwagari or whatever-the-fuck her name was subsided, you found yourself on the roadside curb next to your car, pregnant, jobless and carrying a small box filled with the sparse office mementos you had collected from your decade at Tokyo Today. The building loomed over you, its shadow keeping you cool from the striking sun and you allowed yourself to exhale—to truly absorb the fact that you had done it now. 

Did I make a mistake? 

There was nothing for you to do but to accept and acknowledge that it was your own doing that led you here today. You palmed your rotund belly, whispering to it softly. “I’m so sorry, baby girl. I thought I could make it better for you but I went and messed it up.”

Okay, new goal in life: no matter what, you were still going to provide for your baby by any means necessary. You still had some savings in your bank and if all else failed, you supposed your parents would rather you home (albeit pregnant and unemployed), than if you were off searching for fast money in clubs and bars to feed your daughter. 

The thought alone scared you and for the first time in your life, you came to terms with just how small of a speck of your life was in the great fabric of things. In some ways, you were still that little girl looking both ways before she crossed the street; always ready for the first sign of danger so she could run away and hide. 

No. Nope. This was not happening. You would rather trade your left kidney than to be caught crying in front of a company that booted you out heartlessly. Mia had already texted you and left you some numbers that you could call; connections that were searching for a business writer, but you had left her on read to lick your wounds in peace. 

Perhaps you would return her messages tomorrow. With any luck, maybe you would sleep past the morning so you would not have to wake up for breakfast—one meal of the day saved from your sheer laziness. 

You staggered into your old car and locked the doors, starting the engine and sinking back into the worn leather seats. 

This was it. It was time to say goodbye. You glanced up at the place you had paved your career for a good ten years and sighed. Since your pride was already in shambles and you had no one to share your sudden sadness with, you dialled the first number that came to mind. 

“Hey, mama,” Gojo’s voice chirped from the other end and you never expected that simple greeting to lift your spirits. 

“Hey,” you muttered, tapping your steering wheel with one finger. “Something happened.”

“Damn. Are you going into labour already?”

You scoffed, biting down the urge to grin widely. “Really funny, Satoru.”

“What can I say—I strive to be the best at everything, including cheering you up. So, what’s up?”

Trying hard not to burst into tears, you cursed your raging hormones when wetness trickled down your cheeks, expelling a quick laugh and swiping at your eyes. “I just got fired.”

There was a crackle of silence over the line. “Fired? Why?” 

“Apparently we’re getting sued… and I was the cause of it.” 

You could imagine cerulean blue eyes lowering and perhaps, his peachy lips would be turned down into a frown. Part of you expected him to mutter some form of half-assed condolences, and not say: 

“Stay put, okay?” 

“Satoru—”

“I’m coming for you. You’re still at the building?” 

You gripped the phone tighter, unable to believe the extent of his kindness. “Mhm hmm.”

“Okay, be there in a flash.”

He stayed true to his word. Gojo arrived in all his glory; a sleek white Aston Martin, neatly pressed suit and shades lowered to hide the twinkle in his eye. He took your keys and tossed it to a familiar woman who smiled at you in greeting. 

“Utahime-san, please take Y/N’s car and drive it back to her residence. I’ll take her from here.”

“Yes, sir.” 

There was no room for you to gawk at the grandness of the car before Satoru was ushering you in, taking care to brace his palm on your head so you wouldn’t accidentally collide with the low beam. 

“This is… wow.” Your murmurs caught his attention and you glanced at him to find a smirk on his face. 

“I couldn’t just leave my baby mama all alone now, could I?”

“You’re too nice, Gojo.” 

The despondency in your tone was apparent enough for him to detect. He switched gears and the car tore down the street, towards the highway. Gojo had even made sure you wore a seatbelt and despite his hellish speed, he was surprisingly good on the road. 

“Say, what about we take a day off? Let’s go to this place I know and get ice cream.”

You perked up at that suggestion—or rather, your cravings did and you nodded enthusiastically. 

“That sounds perfect.”

He made small talk with you while he drove you to this little parlour in Odaiba, the Rainbow Bridge never looking this bright until you were sat next to Satoru who made you laugh at every little thing he said because he was too damn charismatic for his own good. Slowly, the dark mood you had on from your sudden change lifted and you followed him, arm-in-arm, into a tiny, spotless café where the owner called out to him in a friendly greeting.

Apparently, the wealthy and famous CEO of Gojo Holdings was a regular in this humble little shop, and the owner didn’t even hesitate to remark on how beautiful the two of you looked as a couple—a statement that Satoru did not deny. 

Buying your favourite flavour of that sweet treat, he sat down next to you with his own bowl—chocolate and macadamia nuts with a healthy drizzle of cherry sauce. It was a good choice and he was kind enough to let you sneak a few spoons, sensing it was your cravings that caused this lapse of manners and not your usual shy self. 

“So, what’re you gonna do now?” Satoru had this habit of licking his spoon between every mouthful of ice cream and you had to stop yourself from chortling at how that habit reminded you of a little boy. Unbidden, you wondered if your baby girl would inherit his love for sweets as well—if she was truly his flesh and blood. 

“I guess I'll live off my savings for a bit. Mia is talking to some publishing companies to see if they would have me. Let’s hope they love sloppy seconds.”

“Mmm, I like sloppy seconds.”

The innuendo hit you a second too late and you pretended to be cross with him. “You’re gross.”

He didn’t find any offence in your quick retort and hummed. “Was I the first one you slept with?” 

You hesitated and dropped your gaze to the sundae cup. There was a part of you that had already buried the idea that it could be Nanami’s baby—your ovulation had not begun when you slept with him for the last time… but Gojo did not need to know the full details.

“Yes.”

“So, she must be mine.”

You fought back a smile and busied yourself with another spoon full of ice cream before speaking. “Y’know, you’re taking this very well for someone who just found out your baby mama slept with two other guys.” 

“Ah. Crazier things have happened.” 

That admission got your eyes widening and you giggled. “Really? Tell me.”

He divulged you with every mind-boggling tale he had in his arsenal—from a psychotic ex-girlfriend who once spiked his drink with Viagra, to his parents’ divorce, the messy custody battle for him, his father’s new girlfriend that was Japan’s first Playboy bunny and his mother’s penchant at sneaking disses at her ex-husband whenever she was interviewed by a lifestyle magazine for her interior designing prowess—Gojo was giving you a front row seat to the mess behind the class.

“Damn. Are you sure you’re not living in a K-drama?” 

He gestured to your belly with a wide grin. “At this point—can we say we’re not?” 

Satoru definitely had a point. “Touché.” 

After dessert, he took you for a walk in Odaiba, pointing out a few cafes that he loved to frequent and even making plans for the both of you to try it whenever he could find a sliver of free time like today. You were coming to discover that Satoru was an impulsive man and had the filter of a seven year old boy who could not control his tongue. That was evident when he hung his long limbs over the metal railing that overlooked the sea, the warm tones of sunset drenching his handsome features and lighting up the blue in his eyes when he grinned at you. 

“I like you, Y/N. If you need anything, just let me know, kay? I know this is hard for you and I don’t want you to go through this alone.”

Whether from the hormones or the stress of the day, you found your eyes smarting and you dropped your gaze to the gently crashing waves under the floorboards of the bridge, nodding. 

“Thank you, Satoru. I’m glad you’re here.”

“No worries.” To your mortification, he got down onto one knee and pressed his face into your belly—in the middle of broad daylight without caring that passers-by glanced at this six-foot-three man making kissy noises into your stomach.

“Satoru,” you giggled, and attempted to bat his face away. “Tickles!” 

“There’s that pretty smile,” Gojo said and straightened to touch your swollen belly with his larger palm. “Let’s get you and the pretty baby home, okay? Mama definitely needs her rest after a long day.” 

In her life as an OBGYN practitioner, Ieiri had thought she’d seen everything. 

From women who were ecstatic at the idea of being mothers, to those who were shocked at the idea of conceiving a life into this world when they weren’t ready, and everything else in between. She had seen fathers who had been there every step of the way for the love of their lives, and sadly, mothers who had to pave the way for their family all alone.

But, she had never seen a case like yours in all her years of experience. 

There were some days when the other staff members in the OB GYN department would inquire about the deeper circles under her eyes, the longer smoke breaks, but she couldn’t break patient confidentiality with you and disclose the details of your pregnancy. 

Besides, she was also your friend to boot and did not want to betray your trust in any way that was deemed inappropriate.

However, that became hard to do when she felt the presence of someone approaching her. She looked up from her haze of smoke and nearly choked on those nicotine wafts when she recognized who it was. 

“Kento?”

Before her, stoic and tall, was your ex-boyfriend. The young doctor lowered her cigarette and forced herself to smile—though with how taken aback she was at the sight of Nanami himself in the flesh, she was pretty sure it came across as a grimace instead. 

“Shoko. I’m so sorry to have snuck up on you like this but I’ve been trying to call Y/N and I haven’t heard back from her. She called me about a few months ago but hung up. Is she okay?”

You hadn’t divulged any of this with her and Ieiri was not sure how to respond. She chose a neutral route and diverged the topic back to him. 

“Hmm. Aren’t you supposed to be in Malaysia by now?” 

It was to her immense surprise when she heard his next words. 

“I cancelled it.” 

Shoko stared at him, the cigarette in her hand forgotten. Though she had never been close to Nanami Kento, your best friend could not deny that it was the happiest she had ever seen you when you were dating someone. Ieiri had even once jokingly called you a scumbag magnet—if there was a bum within a five mile radius, it was almost a given that you would’ve fallen head over heels for him. 

But, Kento was different. He was stoic, aloof and according to you—a genuinely good man who you could envision marrying. That was until he chose his career over you. 

Why would he turn down this opportunity of a lifetime? Shoko was familiar with how the Masamichi group was  expanding into Southeast Asia because of a bigger demographic and a plethora of opportunities; it would be a chance for Kento to purchase his house on the beach and retire early from the success of this expansion. 

So, why was he still here? 

Ieiri got her answer not even a second later. 

“I’m worried about Y/N. I… I don’t suppose you’ve seen her?”

The guilt she felt on your behalf pervaded through her chest and Ieiri coughed lightly, finally putting out her cigarette. Your life was already a mess with the potential of three baby daddies and the new issue of you losing your job. You didn’t need Kento coming back in the fray to give you more stress.

So, Ieiri decided that it was her duty as your friend and a decent doctor to break the news to him. 

“Nanami, there’s something you should know about Y/N…” 

He had straightened, broad shoulders going rigid. “Is she hurt?”

Far from it. Ieiri decided it was better to rip the band aid off than dance around the issue forever and she took a deep breath. 

“Y/N’s pregnant.” 

For a long minute, the blonde man did not speak. The hard expression he wore fractured at the edges as he absorbed this information. But, he was first and foremost a logical man—emotions would come later, and he had to uncover if this was the reason why you were avoiding him—with the possibility that you were carrying his child being the biggest cause of your radio silence.

“And I’m the father?”  

A flash of something like pity flitted across Ieiri’s pretty features. 

“I should let you know… she kind of had a wild few weeks and…”

Kento interjected before she could finish. “Is she fine?” 

“Yes. Well—no.” Ieiri took another deep inhale. “Y/N is pregnant and we don’t know who the father is because… she slept with three other men after your breakup.”

The breeze picked up, carding through her brown locks and his lighter ones. For a few minutes, Nanami did not speak. 

“Kento?” 

As if a spell had been broken, he snapped awake from his trance and jerkily bobbed his head. 

“It’s getting late and I’ve taken up too much of your break.”

“Kento—”

He spun around, all sharp edges and muffled emotions scattered across his angular and striking features. 

“Give Y/N my best.”

She stopped him before he could leave, needing to know what was his current headspace. Ieiri would be a huge liar if she did not admit that the reason for her curiosity was because she wanted to assuage the guilt at being the bearer of bad news. 

“What’ll you do now? Are you going to talk to her?” 

But he did not answer, ducking his head down so she could not see his reaction. Eclipsing his weary thoughts for his own morose rumination. 

“Goodbye, Ieiri.”

[A few months ago]

Once you had gotten over the sting of being creamed by your fling’s bitter ex, you came to the realisation that if life wanted to fuck you over, you may as well have fun with it. 

“A tattoo?” Ieiri was in disbelief the moment that request flew past your lips. 

Grinning, you nodded. “Yup! One on my hip.”

Beside her, Getou who was sipping on his matcha latte quietly gave a snort. “You almost cried when you had your cartilage pierced; are you sure you can handle a tattoo?”

You levelled him with a look. Dressed in his designer polo shirt and crisp pants, one would think that Suguru Getou was not the type for something as improper as tattoos. But, the dragon design around his neck begged to differ and even if you had wanted to dismiss his words, he had a ton of experience when it came to needles—more than you, obviously. 

“I think I could.”

The silence that spanned across the coffee table where all three of you had met for an impromptu brunch was riddled with disbelief. 

“Are you sure it’s professional?” Ieiri broached the topic, knowing how corporates, especially publishing ones, could be particular with the sight of ink on their employees skin. It was up there with dyed hair—who could take a business reporter seriously if they had hot pink locks? 

You pouted and it didn’t take long for your best friend to sense that there was nothing she could say to change your mind. “I’m not getting a big ass one on my face like those rappers,” you mumbled defensively. “It’s just a tiny one on my hip.”

That was apparently enough of a reason for Suguru to grab both you and Ieiri downtown to his favourite tattoo parlour. The smell of lavender and antiseptic reminded you of a hospital if it existed in another dimension. All around you, inked men and women waltzed around the premise, calling out a greeting to the tall Getou heir, friendliness in their words reminding you how you this was his turf and you were in safe hands. 

Well, almost. From across the room, you caught the eye of a sullen looking, pink-haired man. Recoiling slightly, you held a macabre fascination for the tribal-like swirls around his face, and neck. As if sensing your stare, he lifted his brown eyes, and stunned you into silence. Fuck—he’s hot. 

A hand on your back made you startle and Getou’s crescent-eyed smile carved itself into your periphery. “Sukuna—hey! Long time no see.” 

Like a switch had been flipped, the scary looking man trailed his intimidating stare from you to your friend, easing up with a genial smile. “Yo, Sugu. Been a long time. How’s that new one healing up?”

Much to your consternation, Getou lifted the hem of his black t-shirt, giving the entire shop a peek of his washboard abs and deep ‘V’, along with the tiger tattoo scrawled across his hip bone. “Perfectly, man. You knocked it out the board, as usual.” Chuckling amicably, he gestured towards you. “But, that’s not why I’m here—my friend is getting her first tattoo.”

You tried hard not to shrink back when Sukuna’s gaze met you again. This time, a teasing smile lifted the corners of his lips. “Oh, she’s your friend? Thought she was lost for a bit.” 

Before you could open your mouth to sarcastically retort that you weren’t, Sukuna gestured to an unattended room down the hallway. “My schedule is pretty free today—I’ll take her on.” 

Getou nodded enthusiastically. “Alright! You’ll be fine, Y/N. Sukuna here is the best at what he does. You’ll love your tattoo.” Like a proud father handing his reluctant toddler off at a daycare, the raven-haired man nudged you towards the tattoo artist, beaming brightly. “Ieiri and I will be next door having a massage. You call me once you’re done, okay?” 

You tried not to whine through gritted teeth for Getou to follow you into the room, watching helplessly as he spun around on his heel and left you alone, Shoko following behind and giving you a big thumbs up. 

Traitors, you thought murderously. They were supposed to be here for you, possibly even holding your hand in the tattoo room as you cussed your heart out, but they had left you on your own to fend for yourself. And your growing anxiety around the statuesque tattoo artist. There was a twitch in your left eye which was exacerbated the moment Sukuna scoffed.

“You're gonna stand around all day? Come on.”

You mirrored his scoff, crossing your arms in front of you.

“Are you always this rude to your clients? I could write a really bad review and affect your business.” 

For a second, your audacity sent him into a disquiet, and then, Sukuna chuckled. “Sure. I can play nice for a bit.” Cocking his head closer, he assumed an air of playful sobriety that was seriously off-putting with the ink on his face. “I apologise for my behaviour, miss. Please follow along with the sterilisation process.”

You opened your mouth to retort, wanting to ruthlessly mouth off until the smug smile from his face was gone when he ambled down the hallway. While getting a tattoo has always been what you wanted, could you bear getting it from such a rude man that brought out the inner Karen in you? 

Suguru did say this place was the best around Tokyo and he is paying for my tattoo… 

Ugh. Fine. You made up your mind and trailed behind the behemoth of a man, careful to set your purse down and sit daintily on the bench as you adjusted the hem of your knee-length skirt.

“It’s good you came prepared in a skirt,” Sukuna commented, shaking you from your reverie and tossing you a disarming grin. “Gives me easier access to work on you.” 

Your face felt way too warm for such a casual remark and you dropped your gaze from his piercing one, twisting your fingers together. “Just don’t fuck it up, okay? Or else I will literally bring my lawyer on your ass.”

That was a lie—you didn’t have a lawyer. But, what this smug asshole didn’t know would not hurt him. Sukuna lifted a brow and remained mum. He nodded towards a tray of tools. “I’m going to sterilise this first. You can go ahead and remove your blouse and hang it up there.” He gestured towards the coat rack. 

While the idea of stripping in front of an attractive man scared you, it was nothing in comparison to the idea that he would be evading your personal space. Literally touching your skin with his black-gloved hands. Feeling you tremble underneath him.

Fucking Toji. It was because of him you were still like a bitch in heat, ready to latch onto any available cock in sight. 

As if you were a bloodhound, you tried to keep calm when the scent of his rich, aquatic cologne hit you, your shoulders tensing when he sat on the metal stool next to the bench and tapped on the headrest. “Lie back down for me?” 

Doing your best to comply, you twisted your torso slightly, the makeshift blanket almost falling down to reveal the rise of your cotton-clad breasts. Sukuna must’ve been unaffected by your near nudity because he didn’t even react when your bare waist came into view. Probably used to seeing tits in his face all the time. 

Those rubbery palms touched your hip, smoothing a cool liquid over your skin that stung slightly. “Okay, I’m starting the needle.”

There was a whir in the background and you flinched when his palm tensed around your hip bone, nearly bolting out of the chair when the point of the needle touched your skin. 

Sukuna jerked and stopped the machine pen, shooting you a glare. “Hey, quit it. You gotta relax for me, okay? I could’ve tore through your skin with the—”

“I hate needles.” 

The admission fell between both of you like a pin dropping sharply from the edge of a table. Pinging and fracturing around with incredulous silence.

Sukuna gave you a look. “Then what the fuck are you doing in a tattoo shop?” 

Unbidden, tears glossed in your eyes, and Sukuna set down the metallic tool, sighing. “Let me take a wild guess—your ex-boyfriend dumped you so you want to get inked as a sign of your freedom when in fact, you’re still grieving over the relationship, right?” The corners of his lips twitched. “You’re not exactly hard to read.” 

You sniffled pathetically, never imagining in a hundred of years that you would be close to bursting to tears in the middle of a tattoo parlour. 

Evidently, Sukuna may seem like he had a grasp on the situation, but he was just as clueless as you were and had rightfully offended you.

The air was thick with tension, uncuttable and gooey with some unnamed emotion. 

Sukuna decided not to say anything else and pass you a tissue, switching off the running machine with a soft sigh. “If you’re not paying me for a tattoo, at least make it worth my time by entertaining me.” Sitting back, he crossed his arms across his very broad, very sexy chest, and lifted a brow, a ghost of a smirk ready to tug up in the corners of his lips. 

“Go on, tell me your sob story. Might even throw in a complimentary spa voucher if you move me real good.” 

That’s it. You snapped your mouth shut and hopped down from the bench, throwing off the blanket with a sharp swish of your wrist. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.” There was a familiar steel in your tone which you often used on errant reporters and underlings that had the power to make anyone cower. 

But, for Sukuna, all you succeeded in doing was making him confused. 

“So, you don’t want my listening ear?” 

You could no longer hold back the vitriol ready to spill from the tip of your tongue. 

“Look here, mister. Yeah, sure, you may be the best tattoo artist in this district and a good friend of Suguru, but I won’t tolerate your rudeness, especially when it comes to commenting on my life.”

The flinty edge in your gaze shocked him. “So, you can keep all your wisecrack jokes to yourself and I will see myself out. If you want me to bill you for the consulting fee, you know who to ask.” 

As you were about to tug on your shirt, you heard him click his tongue. 

“Hey—I’m sorry.” 

You froze, about to jam one arm into a sleeve when his rueful apology reached your ears. 

A heavy sigh resounded, and you turned around to face him, blouse still askew over your head. “Well, you’re not forgiven.” 

Sukuna’s lips twitched again, and he helped you tug down your shirt. 

Unbidden, the tips of his fingers grazed your exposed abdomen, and you couldn’t hide a shiver at his calloused touch. 

Face still stuffed halfway into your shirt, you were helpless to stop Sukuna from trailing his touch down to your stomach which was now exploding into a million butterflies. 

“Sukuna—”

“Do you ever shut up?” He murmured, and as quick as his touch came, it disappeared from your body. The tattooist showed you a fleck of stray ink staining his index finger. “Accidentally spilled some on ya. Sorry about that.”

He nodded towards the exit. “You can wait for Suguru to be done outside in the lobby. I won’t charge you for anything today.”

His sudden niceness threw you off, and you narrowed your eyes. 

“You’re strange.” 

The corners of his lips twitched, his amusement contagious. “Rich coming from someone afraid of needles in a tattoo shop.” 

Sukuna rubbed his hands, huffing. “Well. Get out of here. I have another customer.” 

But, the masochist in you pinned you down to the leather seat, stubbornly warring with yourself to get this through. 

“Do it.” 

Sukuna cocked a brow. “What?” 

“I’m ready to be tattooed.” 

In answer, he sank back down, pulling out his gun—whether emboldened or amused by your sudden resolution, you had no idea.

“Okay. Take off your shirt. We’re doing this, and—”

He gave you a look, one which froze you in place.

“—no backing out of this. Or, I’ll take your entire your deposit. Deal?” 

After what seemed like hours, your fresh tattoo was ready. 

Your clawed grip on the leather couch had left indents, and you were positive your molars were grinded into a pulp from how hard you had clenched your teeth.

“There,” Sukuna hummed, wiping away the dots of blood with a sterilised cloth, his smile small and a little proud. 

“You did so well for me. I’m proud of you.” 

Unbidden, his words cracked something in your mind, and the tears overflowed. It was mortifying to be like this—crying your heart out in front of an incredibly attractive man who had no idea how to handle your switching emotions. 

Embarrassed, you tried to play off your sudden outburst with a nervous giggle.

You expected him to kick you out—weirded by your reactions—not sigh and sit down next to you, his gloves in hand.

“Do you wanna talk about your relationship?” 

Mutely, you shook your head. 

“Do you want a drink?”

The mention of alcohol made you perk up and you nodded.

Sukuna exited through the curtains and returned a minute later with bottles of beer—one for him and one for you. You both clinked in morose cheers and drank in silence; the alcohol taking away the edge of pain from both your throbbing tattoo and your broken heart. 

“You’re better off without him,” your tattooist said after a moment. “The dude, I mean. Fuck him. You’re pretty—you’ll find someone good soon.”

Cracking a watery smile, you chuckled. “You think?” 

“I know.” His smile was confident and his charm irresistible. “A good girl like you will make a great one for any guy.” 

Good girl. 

Oh. 

Heat slicked down your spine, curdling somewhere in between your thighs. Sukuna watched the effects of his words play across your face—calculating the exact point when you were weak enough for him to make his move.

It was when your mouth fell slightly open, eyes darting over his face tattoos to fully drink in his own vermillion eyes, did he lean forward and kiss you.

You drank him in, no longer shy or subdued—turned flirty and lethal from the coasting hormones the pain elicited and the strong beer. His kisses rained like warm dew drops down your neck, your shoulders, and in between your exposed cleavage.

Sukuna hitched you up higher on the seat, knocking the beer bottles over. They shattered to the floor, and someone yelped in the room next door.

“Sorry,” he grunted, frantically groping under your skirt to pull your panties off. “Kicked something over.” 

He slapped his other palm over your mouth, pushing two fingers into your slick hole. Sukuna finger-fucked you fast and hard, the muted squelching of your pussy creaming all around his black gloved fingers effortlessly.

You whined and squirmed, eyes rolling back into your skull. Unable to take the searing pleasure.

Sukuna didn’t let up. He was ruthless—making you cum quietly in the back of his shop. Those warm and slightly chapped lips latched onto your pulse point, kissing down your shoulders as you convulsed and twitched in his arms.

Not giving you a moment to catch a breath, Sukuna unsheathed his cock from behind his acid wash jeans. You whined softly, impatiently pushing up his shirt to expose his washboard abs. 

Sukuna took the hint, ripping off his shirt and yours.

The air between both your lips tasted like ripe honey, and you lapped at his lower lip, swallowing his scratchy moan.

His voice alone could turn you on—and knowing the effect he had on you, Sukuna cooed, like an owner speaking down to his pet as he propped you onto your hands and knees. 

“Hold the chair tightly,” his whisper was hot against the sensitive shell of ear. “And don’t make a sound, you understand? One single moan and I will stop everything.”

As he spoke, he rutted the tip of his cock in between your thighs, and you were glad you wore a simple skirt today. It made it easier for him to pull down the crotch of your panties to the side. 

Sukuna slipped his entire prick inside of you without much prep, and your entire body tensed—your previous release helping to ease him all the way to the hilt. 

His hands were clawed on your hips, using them as an anchor to jackhammer your willing cunt.

Too fast—this is too much.

“Too much,” you murmured, wincing when he pried his entire length from your creamy depths only to sink back into you unceremoniously. “‘Kuna—”

“You can do it.”

The sensation of a rubber covered finger tapping and rubbing on your clit added another layer of debauchery to this unexpected tryst. A mewl ripped past your clenched teeth, and true to his word, Sukuna stopped all movement.

“‘Kuna,” you mumbled, peeking over your shoulder with wide, teary eyes.

“Don’t give me that look.” 

The tips of his pink hair were slick with sweat; falling right into his face, giving him a shadowy intrigue which shot straight into your neglected pussy. 

“I told you I would stop.” Without waiting for your reply, Sukuna sank his teeth into the tip of his gloved middle finger, yanking off the rubber in one smooth move. He repeated the motion with the other hand while you were spread legged and dripping onto his chair, waiting for him to move. “And you didn’t listen.”

Clinically, almost cruelly, he buried two fingers into your gaping hole, curving them upward. This time, he took a moment to inspect your folds and squeezing cunt, his face almost close to your ass.

“Hmm.” 

It was dehumanising to have a stranger do this to you, but you couldn’t stop him. You didn’t want to stop him. 

“A pretty pussy,” he mumbled, and withdrew his fingers, leaving you aching and empty again. 

Sukuna leaned forward, the heat of his body seeping into your bare thighs. “One more time, darling. And this time, be good for me, okay?” 

Nodding, you arched your back and he laughed at your eagerness. At how you presented yourself to him like an offering on a silver platter. 

“Slut,” he rasped, taking control of your body once again and bullying his cock into your tight heat. “Such a fucking eager little fuckdoll.”

You slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from moaning. There was only a curtain to separate both of you; anyone could walk in and see your tattoo artist balls deep into your creaming pussy.

Sukuna’s free hand had reached under your shirt, expertly tugging your bra cups down to pinch and roll your nipples.

The fact you were both still halfway dressed made you burn with both embarrassment and lust. Nothing else was heard around the room except for the soft squelches of your pussy taking his cock and his heavy breathing growing even denser.

Sukuna’s hips stuttered, and you could tell he was close. He bucked and undulated against you, a choked moan that almost sounded like pain caressing your neck.

“‘Kuna—” your whine was cut short by his rough hand tugging your face to his, lips crashing onto yours.

A dark sort of emotion overtook you, and for one split second, you were no longer the heartbroken girl trying to find meaning in life. Sukuna’s touches made you feel alive; brimming with vitality and hope.

Warm spurts filled you up and you gasped into his mouth, feeling him filling you up like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. 

When you both could finally speak, Sukuna gently withdrew himself and gave you a soft kiss on the forehead.

You closed your eyes, leaning back into him, exhausted to the bone.

“Keep the deposit,” he rasped in his low, deep voice; chest rumbling underneath your cheek. “The tattoo’s on me.”

After the disastrous week that was the result of your unfair dismissal at work and the revelation that Gojo Satoru wanted to be in your life not just as your baby’s daddy, but as a friend, things seemed to look up. 

Granted, your bank account was slowly dwindling by the day, and the food in your fridge was becoming just as sparse as your finances; you didn’t have anything much to do in the day but read up on business news and take baths—but all the hardships made you work even harder, determined to make a better life for your baby. 

Shoko had heard of your predicament and called you up for a wine night—or in your pitiful case—a sparkling wine night and teasingly asked you, “Why don’t you get Gojo to pay your bills?” 

“I’m not a sugar baby, Ieiri,” you had grumbled and she snorted, looking resplendent in her floral summer dress while you felt like a whale beside her. 

Stupid pregnancy belly. Your clothes were becoming too tight around your hips, and squeezing into your jeans made you feel like your thighs had turned into pieces of meat being squished into a sausage skin. 

Whoever said that women were the most attractive during their pregnancy obviously missed the mark by about a whole mile. 

“Money is money, Y/N. Besides, you can always use the excuse that you need it for the baby.” 

You had shot her a look over your sadly non-alcoholic glass of despair and frowned. “Are you teaching me how to swindle money from a CEO?”

“I’m teaching you how to be in your bag, Y/N,” she corrected with a smirk.

That was a few nights ago, and the idea still replayed in your mind. However, you recalled Gojo’s happy smiles and how he was genuinely ecstatic to be having a child and you reasoned her suggestion did not seem so farfetched. 

Winter was steadily approaching as seen from the snatches of cold air circulating around the apartment, and with it, Gojo’s increasing busyness. You had not heard from the white-haired CEO for almost a whole week and you were growing antsy. Your phone was resolutely silent as well, your messages to Toji and Sukuna going unread since that disastrous day in the OBGYN room. Trying hard not to let the winter blues and the chill of those two men get to you, you decided to take yourself out on a date. 

Bulging belly apparent under your sweater, you winced at the tenderness of your breasts and massaged them gently while you tried to bend over and lace your boots. Deciding that you did a good job, you huffed, dragging your puffy coat over your frame. Appraising yourself in the mirror, you had to bite down on a laugh at how much you looked like an inflated Michelin man. A part of you was saddened that you could no longer dress up in babydoll dresses and sleek winter coats; since becoming a mom, practicality had very much taken over fashion. 

The streets were bustling and you stayed closer to the walls, people giving you way once they noticed your swollen stomach and reddened face. How did all these Hallmark movies make pregnancy seem almost effortless? All those actresses had dewy skin, perfectly rotund bellies and a doting husband near them at all times—none of which you had with you right now. 

The cafe you wanted to visit was too crowded and you huffed, taking out your phone and deciding to move to a different location. But before you could waddle away in disappointment, a harsh wind picked up and snatched your loosely tied scarf, the red material shimmering from your grasp as you exhaled out an exasperated, “Ugh—seriously?”

Moving as fast as your swollen legs could carry you, you rushed to grab the evasive material, nearly twisting on a patch of ice and tangling in your undone boot laces. For one split second, gravity seemed to elude you and you cried out, terrified beyond belief, the one warning flashing in your mind: my baby!

But before you could careen down to the ground, a strong arm caught you. 

“Y/N!” 

You gasped and held onto the defined bicep for your dear life, the blood rushing through your ears loud enough to stifle the presence next to you. 

“You’re alright—you’re alright, love.” 

That voice…

Glancing up with teary eyes, you were stunned by who had caught you. 

“S-Sukuna?” 

He was dressed warmly in a cashmere sweater and a woolly black scarf, tribal tattoos on his face and neck standing out like a stain on his tanned skin; incredibly handsome under the slate-grey skies. The wind ruffled his rosy hair and you noticed he had a greasy box in one hand, the other still wound around your waist. 

Cognizant that he was still holding onto you, he reluctantly let you go. There was no mirth in his light brown eyes when he appraised you, apparently exasperated at your disposition. “Be more careful next time,” he clicked his tongue and took in your dishevelled state. “Jesus, who dressed you? A toddler?”  

Before you could protest, he set the box down on a shop’s window ledge and got onto one knee, lacing your boots tightly, straightening your collar and even adjusting some buttons of your coat that were askew. His brisk assistance left you with a light dusting of pink on your cheeks and you ducked your gaze down when he tried to meet your eye. 

A layer of awkwardness hovered between both of you and Sukuna eventually cleared his throat, picking up the box once more. 

“I heard about how you got fired. I was about to head over to your apartment. Um, I got you some pizza.”

He mumbled everything under his breath, as if he were embarrassed of admitting something simple as helping someone who was not himself. 

You blinked—once, twice—before finding your voice. “Oh. Thank you.” 

Sukuna shifted from one foot to the other, still unable to meet your eyes. “Um—do you wanna head back? I think it might get cold.” 

“Sure.” 

It was a short walk back to your apartment and even when you felt fine, you were surprised when he roughly tugged his scarf from his neck to sloppily wrap it around your bare neck. The smell of his musk and rich cologne pricked your nostrils and you hid your blushing cheeks in the folds of the soft material. 

He cleared his throat, attempting to make conversation. “Are you okay?” 

“I’ve been better.” In a quieter voice, you asked, “How did you know I was fired?” 

“Gojo told me. Fucking hell—that HR was ruthless. You sure you don’t want to sue her? Firing a pregnant woman is a discrimination.” 

Somehow, hearing Sukuna getting angry on your behalf made the warmth on your cheeks deepen. Hiding your quiet pleasure at how nice he was being for a change, you tittered. “I’m done with that line. I might just open a flower shop.”

“A flower shop? That’s so girly.”

Your apartment appeared and he helped you to unlock the front door, careful to usher you in first. Catching your breath, you responded to his jab a few seconds too late, your lagging pregnancy brain striking again. 

“Ooh, look at me, I’m a big, muscular, tattooed man who hates flowers. Real charming, Sukuna.”

Biting down a smile at how indignant you sounded, Sukuna settled himself on your couch, taking a gander at your space. You sat down next to him with two plates and two cups of Coke, sending him a mock glare. 

“No, no. I meant that as a compliment.” 

The pizza smelled heavenly and you indulged in two slices, the grease easing the disappointment of losing your favourite scarf. If he noticed the empty room you were slowly cleaning out to make space for your baby’s nursery, he didn’t say anything. 

You were coming to discover that Sukuna was more of an action-based person; preferring to speak with his carefully crafted gestures compared to flowery words. In that sense, he was different from Gojo, and you welcomed the change. 

For instance, Sukuna’s hesitation was apparent when he placed his palm on your belly, the warmth permeating through the thick material of your sweater. It was quiet except for both of your in-sync breathing. Outside, the wind was picking up, rattling the windows and exacerbating the silence within the walls. You didn’t break the heady solitude apart, content to bask in his affections and attention when those dark brown eyes flashed in wonder, cradling your bump with his larger hands. 

You shifted your feet into a lotus sitting position and winced. Sukuna noticed your lapsing gesture and gave you a quizzical look. 

“My knees are swollen.”

You didn’t expect what he did next. Gently grasping your ankles, he unfurled your legs and set them on his lap, removing your socks and massaging your feet. An unrestrained groan of relief slipped from your mouth and he chuckled in low tones. 

“Shit—that feels good.”

He hummed, not wanting to break that blissful look on your face so he stayed quiet, pressing his knuckles into the arch of first your right foot then left foot to ease the tension . 

Completely lost in the pleasurable relief, you almost didn’t feel the wetness seep through your panties, the quick twist of your womb. It was only when your abdomen started clenching harder that your eyes flew wide open and you squeaked. 

“Sukuna—um, I think—oh shit.”

He stopped his ministries instantly, tribal tattoos crinkling as he frowned. “What’s the matter?” 

In answer, you whimpered, and pointed to your soiled jeans. 

His dark eyes widened. “Did you piss yourself?” 

Your glare was marred with pain when you shook your head, resisting the urge to sock him right in his handsome face. “No, you dumbass—”

Breaking off, you clenched your teeth, doubling over with a gasp.

His reaction was immediate. “Oh. No. Are you—?”

Sukuna’s first instinct was to wrap his arms around you, hustling you out of the apartment and into the cold.

You nearly screamed at him to get you back into your warm apartment, but from his pinpricked pupils and heavy breathing, Sukuna wasn't exactly thinking straight.

Frantic vermillion eyes darted around the snow-flooded street. Shops were closing and many people were hiding from the flurry of snow falling from the sky. 

The entire world was shutting into itself to brace against a snowstorm and your baby had decided this was the perfect time to arrive.

You grunted in pain, fisting the front of his winter coat. "'Kuna, I wanna go back in. I—"

"You need a hospital," he urged, the panic in his voice unshakable.

The look on your face was brimming with pain, cheeks ruddy from the cold.

“My water broke,” you muttered, as if it wasn’t obvious what you were going through. “‘K-Kuna… help me.” 

Snapping back into action, Sukuna hopped up, holding onto you carefully as he made a few calls. But, with every single rejected dial tone, his panic was increasing.

“Shit,” he cursed, calling another hospital in a different district. 

Of all days when his potential baby mama had to pop, it would be when he didn’t have his bike with him. 

It was stuck in a workshop, the radiator frozen after these unprecedented winter nights. Sukuna was starting to grow desperate.

Another sharp gasp of pain from you rattled his chest, and he tried the ambulance one more time. 

Finally, someone answered.

“Hello?” He rushed without preamble. “My girlfriend is about to give birth. We need an ambulance down Kosai Street, stat.” 

“I’m sorry, sir,” the operator sounded regretful. “The snow is piling up and our ambulances were already deployed to other cases.”

He heard the meaning loud and clear: you’re not important enough to waste resources on. 

The tattoo artist sneered, teeth bared at the stupid woman’s simpering. 

“Fuck, no,” he snarled. “This is important, too! We have no mode of transportation and—”

“I’m sorry, sir,” she repeated again, this time more firmly. “We just received word of a huge accident down the Shibuya intersection and I’m afraid we have to respond immediately. Please allow us two hours to reach you and in the meantime, keep your girlfriend warm and out of the weather.”

The dial tone echoed down the line, and Sukuna thought he had hallucinated the whole conversation.

But, before he could go on a rant about how terrible and unfunded government hospitals are becoming in this country, you grabbed his arm, wincing in pain.

“Call Satoru,” you said in a strangled voice. “Call him and he’ll come. T-take my phone from my pocket.”

Sukuna did as you asked, putting his ego aside to call up the white-haired motherfucker. 

However, just as he was about to press the button, a soft voice interrupted the both of you.

“Do you need a lift?”

Haloed by his car lights, a tall, blonde man strode towards them, his hands in his pockets and a look of solemn worry on his face.

Sukuna didn’t know the guy, but evidently you did when he heard your soft and pained gasp.

“K-Kento?” 

“Yeah, it’s me.” He sounded formal, though the look in his eyes was steeped with regret. 

Something about how you said his name made the other man think this Kento guy was special to you.

But, he had no time to ask if this was the same ex who had landed you in this pickle with three other men; your legs had given out and you were sinking into the snow with an agonised cry.

Using all his strength, Sukuna hauled you into his arms, ignoring your shriek of surprise.

Looking this Kento stranger in the eye, he nodded towards the humming car. 

“Thanks. You came just in time. Y/N needs a hospital.”

Kento’s eyes never left your prone form in his arms, and Sukuna was starting to feel like he had unwittingly landed in the middle of something entirely too intimate.

The both of you were locked in a silent staring competition, and the tattoo artist had just about enough of this unspeakable tension.

“Oi,” he barked, loud enough to startle Kento’s attention back to him. 

“Are we just gonna fucking stare around? Y/N’s about to pop out her baby. We have to get to the hospital—now.”

— reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated !!

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy and repost, or claim as your own

Lowkeyartist!Sukuna & reader expecting their 2nd child?? 😇

lowkeyartist!sukuna who wouldn’t tell everyone about the new addition to his family just yet, he’d just let them speculate.

He has a daughter now, 2 years younger than his son. Your son was a carbon copy of sukuna, similar face and same hair colour, so ofc his princess came out looking like her mom - and he has no complaints at that.

I feel like when you’re pregnant and during postpartum, Sukuna won’t post at all. He would kick back from mainstream and his account, declining any offers given to him and any artists that would want to use his samples. He did the same for when you first got pregnant, but because of how high his numbers in following has gotten he’s taking a bigger step and not interacting with anything at all until he is content with how his family is growing.

It’s not particularly a reveal, but a slight teaser if you will when everyone starts to know that his family has gained a new member.

His new video, after almost 2 years of being absent, is him and his guitar in his room. You’re not in the video, but people don’t suspect about it anymore because they just assume you’re with his son. His piece is soft and mellowed down than his usual, but people guess because of the new foot print on his guitar base. Yours and your son’s hand print have been on that guitar for a while, so everyone knows that guitar through and through, so it’s no surprise everyone starts congratulating him on his new baby when they see her little pink footprint on it too.

The only insight he gives to the public about his baby girl is a short story post.

ryomensukuna: It’s a girl, she looks just like her mama. Her mother had a good birth. She’s a healthy 8 month baby who’s getting as big as her brother by the way her mother spoils her. Thank you for the support - RS