#jujutsu sorcerer

[gabbyp09]

[rosiepods]

night time routine .ೃ࿐

When you and Toji started dating, his nighttime routine consisted of throwing his clothes off and hopping into bed. But when you came into his life, his routine went from 2 to 8. At first, he thought it was unnecessary to wash your face and stretch before bed but he starting to look forward to the time with you. Spending your nights giggling and applying face masks on each other and getting into silly stretching positions that you claimed helped in many ways. And at the end of the routine, you two would hop into bed and fall into a peaceful slumber with laxed muscles and smooth skin. Toji wouldn’t have it any other way.

[skywalkerrtno]

I introduced my mom to link click bc its a magnificent series and i had to share it with her. ( i also needed someone to talk to about it lmao)

We got to the last ep of s2 and i started to voice record the moment bc I remember whrn i watched it. I violently sobbed and gasped out loud and- you guys get it.

AND WHEN I TELL YOU SHE JUST STAYED SILENT.

So i asked her why she didnt react at all And she looked at me, silently outraged.

And told me. "I'm just so mad at you right now for making me miserable like this"

LMAOOOO

She had been asking in the previous eps. "When does it get happy?" "Why do you watch this sad stuff?" "First you introduce me to Jjk, now this?" "Does it ever get non-depressing?"

But jokes on her. She loves Jjk, Gojo is in her insta fyp, she sends me jjk reels.

And NOW. I've got her having link click theories and edits too.

I love her. And I love using her to have someone to ramble about. And I know she loves me too. Even if I do kinda make her miserable.

[dee-writes-anime]

Chapter 8: A Reign of Terror

FEATURING Ryomen Sukuna x Witch!Reader

SUMMARY As you and Sukuna solidify your reign as the King and Queen of Curses, your fiery relationship deepens amidst power struggles and lingering doubts. However, the celebration is short-lived as an ominous storm heralds the arrival of a new, ancient threat. The chapter ends with a foreboding confrontation in the throne room, setting the stage for a battle that could shake Sukuna’s reign to its core.

CONTENT WARNINGS Graphic depictions of sexual activity, including dominance and power dynamics, references to past carnage, heavy tension, and implied violence in the looming confrontation, intense language and descriptions, themes of dominance, submission, and manipulation within a romantic and political context.

PLAYLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

The ridge overlooked the village like a throne perched above the remains of a fallen kingdom. Below, devastation sprawled in all directions, a canvas of smoke and fire painted with blood. The jagged remnants of homes jutted skyward like broken ribs, their charred timbers crackling faintly as the fires consuming them struggled to stay alight. The acrid stench of destruction filled the air, mingling with the metallic tang of fresh blood and the fetid stink of decay. Each breath was a punishment, forcing the taste of ruin onto the tongue. 

The sky mirrored the chaos below, a tempest of swirling black clouds streaked with veins of crimson lightning. Thunder rolled intermittently, its low growl weaving through the quiet moans of the dying and the sharp cries of those who knelt before you and Sukuna. The storm seemed alive, a force of nature tethered to the malice radiating from the pair of you. It churned restlessly, an ominous prelude to what was yet to come. 

Sukuna stood at your side, his towering frame a stark silhouette against the stormy horizon. His crimson robes fluttered in the biting wind, the jagged gold sigils etched into the fabric catching the dim, flickering light of the fires below. His four eyes scanned the wreckage with a detached curiosity, two half-lidded in boredom, while the others gleamed with sharp intensity. His cursed energy rippled outward in subtle waves, brushing against your senses like an animal testing the air for prey. It was suffocating, electric, and undeniably commanding. 

“Do you see it, little queen?” he murmured, his voice low and resonant, carrying a dark amusement that sent a shiver down your spine. “This is the price of defiance.” 

You followed his gaze, your eyes sweeping over the carnage with a calculated detachment. The villagers who remained alive knelt in the blood-soaked dirt, their faces pale and streaked with tears and soot. Some clutched at their wounds, their trembling hands slick with blood, while others simply stared blankly at the ground as though unable to comprehend the destruction that had befallen them. 

In the distance, the remains of the rebel leader’s stronghold jutted out like a defiant fist, its walls charred black and crumbling. Sukuna’s cursed spirits prowled the ruins, their grotesque forms illuminated by the occasional flash of lightning. One massive spirit, its body a writhing mass of serpentine limbs and jagged bone, dragged a mangled corpse across the dirt, leaving a trail of viscera in its wake. Another spirit, smaller but no less horrifying, perched atop a pile of rubble, its too-wide mouth curled into a grotesque grin as it gnawed on a severed arm. 

Closer to the ridge, a group of survivors knelt in a ragged line, their faces turned toward the ground. Their bodies were hunched and trembling, their once-bright clothing now stained with blood and ash. A child whimpered softly, his small frame pressed against his mother’s side as she clutched him tightly, her own eyes wide with terror. The sound cut through the oppressive silence, a reminder that even in the face of overwhelming power, there were those who clung desperately to life. 

Sukuna’s gaze lingered on the survivors, his grin widening into something sharp and cruel. He stepped forward, his cursed energy surging faintly as he descended the ridge with a deliberate slowness that made the ground tremble beneath his feet. You followed, the pulse of the choker at your throat steadying your steps as you matched his pace. The hem of your crimson gown, embroidered with jagged gold patterns, whispered against the broken stones as you descended. 

When the two of you reached the foot of the ridge, the survivors recoiled, their bodies pressing closer to the ground as though it might shield them from the weight of your presence. Sukuna stopped a few paces from them, his crimson eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction as he surveyed the trembling figures. 

“You dared to defy me,” Sukuna said, his voice cutting through the heavy air like a blade. “You dared to think that you could stand against the King of Curses.” 

One of the villagers, a man with a bloodied face and trembling hands, raised his head slightly, his eyes darting between you and Sukuna. “Please,” he croaked, his voice raw with desperation. “We— We were only trying to protect our own. We—” 

Sukuna silenced him with a flick of his hand. The man’s body convulsed violently, his mouth open in a silent scream as his cursed energy was crushed under Sukuna’s will. The other villagers cried out in terror, their voices rising in a discordant chorus that echoed across the desolation. 

Sukuna turned to you then, his grin widening as he gestured toward the trembling survivors. “Your decision, little queen,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. “What shall we do with them?” 

The weight of his words settled heavily on your shoulders, the choker at your throat pulsing in time with your racing heartbeat. You met his gaze, the sharp intensity of his crimson eyes daring you to hesitate. But you didn’t. You stepped forward, your cursed energy flaring around you in sharp, deliberate waves that sent shivers through the air. 

The survivors recoiled as you approached, their cries growing louder, more desperate. You looked down at them, their faces twisted with fear and despair, and for a moment, you hesitated—not out of mercy, but out of calculation. They had already lost everything. Was there anything left to take? 

You turned back to Sukuna, his expression unreadable but his amusement palpable. “Let one live,” you said, your voice steady. “Let them carry the tale of what happens to those who defy us.” 

Sukuna’s laughter rumbled low and sharp, echoing through the wreckage as he stepped closer, his hand brushing your shoulder. “Clever,” he murmured, his voice a mix of approval and something darker. “Let them choke on their fear.” 

With a flick of his wrist, the cursed spirits moved, their grotesque forms descending upon the villagers with brutal efficiency. The screams that followed were short-lived, their echoes fading into the storm as the spirits tore through flesh and bone with savage precision. Only one figure remained untouched—a young man with wide, terrified eyes who stared at you as though you were a nightmare given form. 

“Go,” you commanded, your voice sharp and unyielding. “Run. Tell them what you’ve seen here.” 

The man hesitated for a heartbeat before scrambling to his feet, his steps uneven as he fled into the darkness. His figure disappeared into the distance, swallowed by the storm, leaving only silence in his wake. 

Sukuna turned to you, his grin widening as he tilted his head slightly. “You’re learning,” he said, his tone laced with amusement. “Perhaps you’ll make a queen yet.” 

“I already am,” you replied, the faintest smirk curling your lips as you met his gaze. 

The storm roared its approval above, the crimson lightning casting jagged shadows across the desolation below. This was your reign, forged in blood and fire, and there would be no question of your power. Not anymore. 

The estate was alive with movement when you returned, its grand halls bustling with servants and courtiers scrambling to keep pace with the demands of their king and queen. The air hummed with tension, a constant reminder of the new order that had been violently imposed upon the land. Whispers carried through the corridors like smoke, curling into the ears of anyone brave enough to listen. Beneath the polished veneer of loyalty, doubt and defiance simmered—a volatile mixture waiting for the smallest spark to ignite. 

Sukuna had summoned his court to the throne room, a cavernous space lined with jagged obsidian columns etched with golden sigils that pulsed faintly with cursed energy. At the center of the room, a raised dais supported two imposing thrones. His, carved from black stone veined with crimson, loomed larger, its sharp angles designed to intimidate. Yours, while slightly smaller, matched its grandeur, with gold accents and a seat lined with deep crimson silk. 

The lords gathered below, their silks shimmering under the dim, flickering light of the braziers. Their faces were masks of forced composure, but their eyes betrayed them—sharp and calculating, some alight with admiration, others shadowed by resentment. This was a court still adjusting to its queen, a figure they had once whispered about with disdain but now feared with a visceral intensity. 

Sukuna lounged in his throne, his crimson eyes scanning the room with sharp amusement. He exuded command without effort, his four arms resting casually on the armrests and his lap. His cursed energy pulsed steadily, coiling around the room like smoke, a reminder of the power he wielded without lifting a finger. 

You sat at his side, your posture regal and unyielding, your crimson and gold gown pooling around you like molten fire. The choker at your throat pulsed faintly, its energy thrumming in time with your own, grounding you as the weight of the court’s scrutiny bore down. Your hands rested lightly on the arms of your throne, but your gaze was anything but idle, sweeping over the gathered lords with sharp precision. 

“They doubt you,” Sukuna murmured, his voice low enough for only you to hear. His grin widened as he leaned closer, his breath brushing against your ear. “You can see it in their eyes.” 

“I see it,” you replied, your tone calm but edged with steel. “Let them doubt. It makes their fear taste sweeter.” 

His laughter rumbled through the room, drawing the lords’ attention. They stiffened, their unease palpable as Sukuna straightened in his seat, his gaze sweeping over them with predatory intent. 

“Speak,” he commanded, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “Which of you will be the first to address your king and queen?” 

A murmur rippled through the court, lords exchanging wary glances before one finally stepped forward. He was an older man, his silver hair neatly tied back, his crimson robes adorned with gold embroidery that shimmered faintly in the firelight. He bowed deeply, though his movements were stiff, his deference tainted by reluctance. 

“Your Majesties,” he began, his voice steady but carrying a faint edge of trepidation. “We are... honored to serve under your reign. But there are whispers—rumors of rebellion stirring in the western provinces.” 

The room stilled, the air growing heavier as Sukuna’s grin sharpened into something colder, more deliberate. “Rebellion?” he echoed, his tone soft but laced with menace. “Do elaborate.” 

The lord hesitated, his gaze flicking briefly to you before returning to Sukuna. “There are those who question your... methods,” he said carefully. “They claim your rule is one of terror, not loyalty. They seek to rally the discontented, to undermine the foundation of your court.” 

Sukuna chuckled, the sound low and menacing, as he leaned back in his throne. “And do you share their concerns?” he asked, his crimson eyes gleaming with dangerous amusement. 

The lord paled, his composure faltering under Sukuna’s piercing gaze. “No, my lord,” he said quickly, his voice trembling. “I serve only you.” 

Sukuna tilted his head, his grin widening as he turned to you. “What do you think, little queen?” he asked, his tone dripping with mockery. “Shall we let this one live to see another day?” 

The court’s attention shifted to you, the weight of their stares pressing heavily against your chest. You didn’t hesitate. Rising from your throne, you stepped forward, the hem of your gown whispering against the polished stone floor. Your cursed energy flared faintly, coiling around you like a living thing, sending a ripple of unease through the room. 

“Loyalty is proven through action, not words,” you said, your voice sharp and deliberate. “If he truly serves, let him show us.” 

The lord’s eyes widened, panic flickering across his face as he realized the implications of your words. “My queen, I—” 

“You will lead our forces to crush this rebellion,” you continued, cutting him off. “And you will bring the rebels’ heads to the steps of this throne.” 

The room fell silent, the lords exchanging uneasy glances as the weight of your command settled over them. The lord before you hesitated, his trembling hands clutching the folds of his robes. “If... If that is your will,” he stammered. 

“It is,” you said coldly, stepping closer until you loomed over him. “And if you fail, your head will join theirs.” 

Sukuna’s laughter echoed through the room, low and resonant, as he watched the exchange with sharp amusement. “You heard your queen,” he said, his tone mockingly light. “Do not disappoint her.” 

The lord bowed deeply, his movements stiff with fear, before retreating into the shadows. The court remained silent, their unease palpable as you returned to your throne, your gaze sweeping over them with sharp intensity. 

“You’re enjoying this,” Sukuna murmured, his voice low but laced with approval. 

You turned to him, the faintest smirk curling your lips. “Perhaps.” 

His grin widened, his crimson eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Good,” he said softly. “They should fear you as much as they fear me.” 

It was only after everyone was dismissed that Sukuna led you back to his chambers. The glow of the crimson lanterns bathed his private chambers in a warm, almost sinister light, the flickering shadows on the walls making the space feel alive. The low hum of cursed energy filled the air, vibrating faintly beneath the polished stone floors. The scent of incense coiled lazily, mingling with the faint metallic tang of blood that seemed permanently etched into the space. It was a room of dominance and decadence, one that reflected Sukuna’s unyielding presence. 

You stood in the center of it, your arms folded across your chest, tension radiating off your frame as you fixed him with a sharp glare. The rich crimson and gold of your gown swirled around your ankles, the jagged sigils embroidered into the fabric glinting faintly in the firelight. Sukuna’s towering form lounged against the edge of a low table, his arms crossed, his crimson eyes gleaming with something between amusement and anticipation. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice laced with sarcasm as you arched an eyebrow. “Did I hear you correctly?” 

“You did,” he replied smoothly, his deep voice carrying a dangerous edge of amusement. “You’ll move your belongings into my quarters. Starting tonight.” 

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you took a step closer, the hem of your gown whispering against the floor. “And why, exactly, should I?” 

Sukuna tilted his head slightly, his grin widening into something predatory. “Because I said so.” 

The casual arrogance of his response sent a sharp spike of irritation through you. “That’s not an answer,” you shot back, your tone sharp enough to cut. “I’m not one of your followers to order around like a mindless servant.” 

“No,” he said, his grin sharpening. “You’re my queen.” 

The words hung heavily in the air between you, weighted with unspoken meaning. His four crimson eyes bore into yours, two half-lidded with calculated amusement while the others gleamed with intensity. The room felt smaller, the air thicker, as the tension between you coiled tighter. 

“And what does that have to do with where I sleep?” you demanded, refusing to back down. 

Sukuna chuckled, the sound low and rough, curling around you like smoke. “Everything,” he said, his tone dropping lower. “Your place is at my side—in court, in battle, and in every other way that matters.” 

The implication in his words sent a jolt of heat through your chest, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze, refusing to let him see the crack in your composure. “I don’t recall agreeing to that,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt. 

He pushed off the table with a slow, deliberate motion, his movements fluid and predatory. The air grew heavier as he closed the distance between you, his cursed energy brushing against yours like a velvet blade. He stopped just a breath away, his towering form casting a shadow over you, his grin widening as his voice dropped to a near growl. 

“Didn’t you?” he asked, his breath warm against your temple. “Or have you forgotten the way you begged for me the other night?” 

Your breath caught, the memory slamming into you like a tidal wave. The heat of his hands on your skin, the way his voice had dropped into a rasp that left you trembling, the overwhelming sensation of his cursed energy intertwined with your own—it was all too vivid, too raw. Your pulse quickened despite your efforts to steady it, your defiance wavering under the weight of his presence. 

“I didn’t beg,” you said, though your voice faltered at the end, betraying the conviction you wanted to project. 

Sukuna’s laughter rumbled through the space, dark and mocking, as he leaned closer, his four eyes narrowing with satisfaction. “No?” he murmured, his voice a velvet rasp. “Should I remind you?” 

His hand moved, slow and deliberate, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. The touch was deceptively gentle, a stark contrast to the raw power radiating from him. His claws grazed your cheek, sending a shiver racing down your spine as his grin deepened. 

“You clung to me,” he continued, his tone soft but dripping with dark amusement. “Cried out my name like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. And when I left you trembling, you still wanted more.” 

The heat in your chest flared into something sharper, hotter, as the memory burned brighter under his words. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, both to steady yourself and to suppress the rising temptation to wipe that smug grin off his face. 

“And what of it?” you shot back, forcing your voice into something approaching calm. “That doesn’t mean I’m moving in here like some... trophy.” 

Sukuna’s grin softened, just slightly, though it lost none of its edge. “You think this is about possession?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative. “No, little queen. This is about power.” 

His hand moved to your chin, tilting your face upward until your gaze locked with his. The sharp intensity in his eyes left no room for doubt, the weight of his words pressing against you like the force of a storm. 

“You’ve fought for this place,” he said, his tone softening into something darker, more dangerous. “Claimed it in blood and fire. You’re no longer just standing beside me—you’re ruling with me. And that means every part of you belongs here. With me.” 

The declaration sent a shiver racing through you, the weight of his words sinking deeper than you expected. You hated the way your chest tightened, the way your cursed energy responded to his with a sharp, electric pulse that left you breathless. 

“And if I refuse?” you asked, though your voice lacked the sharpness it had before. 

His grin widened, his lower hands settling on your waist as his upper ones braced against the wall behind you, caging you in without a word. “You won’t,” he said simply, his tone carrying the weight of absolute certainty. “Because you know as well as I do that this is where you belong.” 

The words struck like a blade, sharp and precise, cutting through the last of your defenses. His presence was suffocating, intoxicating, and as much as you hated to admit it, there was a part of you that craved the storm he brought with him. 

Before you could respond, Sukuna leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured, “You’ll move into my chambers. And when you do, we’ll see if your defiance lasts through the night.” 

The promise in his tone left you breathless, the air between you charged with unspoken tension. For a moment, you stood frozen, caught between the fire in his eyes and the pull of your own cursed energy, which thrummed in time with his. 

“I’ll consider it,” you said finally, though your voice was quieter now, less certain. 

His laughter was low and satisfied as he stepped back, his crimson eyes gleaming with triumph. “Do that,” he said, his tone carrying a dark promise. “But don’t take too long, little queen. I’m not known for my patience.” 

The room felt colder as he retreated, his presence lingering like smoke as he disappeared into the shadows. You stood there, the weight of his words pressing heavily against you, the memory of his touch burning into your skin. 

You would consider it. But deep down, you already knew the answer. 

The throne room was shrouded in an oppressive silence, the faint hum of cursed energy vibrating through the air as you stood at Sukuna’s side. The jagged stone throne at the far end of the room loomed like a monolith, carved from dark rock and etched with intricate sigils that pulsed faintly with crimson light. It was an imposing seat, a symbol of absolute power—and it was his. 

Yet tonight, his attention wasn’t on his throne or the court he ruled from it. It was on you. 

“You’ve grown used to standing beside me,” Sukuna said, his voice low and resonant, breaking the charged stillness. “But a queen should not stand. She should reign.” 

You blinked, taken aback by the comment, and turned to meet his gaze. His crimson eyes burned with a sharp intensity, two half-lidded with amusement while the others gleamed with something unreadable. “What are you saying?” 

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous, as he reached out, his clawed fingers brushing against your chin to tilt your face upward. “I’ll have a throne made for you,” he murmured, his tone dripping with confidence. “A seat beside mine. A place for you to rule—not as a shadow, but as my equal.” 

The words sent a ripple through you, the weight of his declaration sinking into your chest. A throne beside his? The gravity of it was as intoxicating as it was terrifying. Yet, before you could respond, he turned and strode toward the dais, his crimson robes trailing behind him like a river of blood. 

“Come,” he said without looking back, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I want to show you something.” 

You followed, your steps hesitant but steady, as he ascended the dais and gestured toward his throne. The jagged seat gleamed faintly in the dim light, its presence as commanding as the man who ruled from it. 

“Do you know what this throne represents?” Sukuna asked, his voice quieter now but no less intense. 

“Your power,” you replied, the words slipping out before you could stop them. 

His grin widened, sharp and predatory, as he turned to face you. “Exactly. And tonight, I’ll show you why no one—nothing—can take it from me.” 

Before you could ask what he meant, he closed the distance between you in a single, fluid motion. His four hands moved with deliberate precision, his claws grazing your arms as he pulled you closer. His cursed energy pressed against you, suffocating and electric, setting every nerve in your body alight. 

“Do you know why I brought you here?” he asked, his voice a low growl that reverberated through the empty hall, sending a tremor through your chest. 

Your breath hitched, your mind spinning under the weight of his presence. “To make a point?” you replied, your voice steady despite the rapid thrum of your heartbeat. 

He chuckled, a low, dark sound that sent a wave of heat through you. “Clever,” he murmured, his grin widening as his upper hands cupped your face, tilting it upward so his crimson gaze locked onto yours. “But no. This isn’t about anyone else. This is about you and me.” 

The words sent a jolt through you, the raw intensity of his gaze leaving you breathless. Before you could respond, he swept you off your feet, his lower hands gripping your thighs as he carried you up the dais. The stone of the throne was cold against your back as he settled you onto it, his body towering over you like a force of nature. 

“You think you can defy me,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a velvet rasp that made your skin prickle with anticipation. “But here, on my throne, there’s no pretending. No games.” 

Before you could process his words, his hands were on you again—unrelenting, deliberate. His claws trailed down your sides, catching the fabric of your gown and tearing it with ease. The sound of ripping fabric filled the air, mingling with the sharp crackle of cursed energy as he stripped you down with practiced efficiency. 

You didn’t even realize what was happening until you were left in nothing but your bra and underwear, the cool air of the throne room brushing against your exposed skin. Your breath hitched as you tried to cover yourself, but Sukuna’s lower hands pinned your wrists against the armrests, holding you firmly in place. 

His grin widened as his upper hands parted his robe, revealing himself to you. Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes traveled downward, taking in the sheer size of him. His cock was impossibly large, its girth and length a testament to his inhuman nature. The angry red tip glistened faintly, twitching with anticipation, and your mind reeled at the thought of him fitting inside you. 

“H-holy shit,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper as you stared, wide-eyed and overwhelmed. 

Sukuna’s laughter rumbled through the room, deep and resonant, as he leaned closer, his upper hands bracing against the throne on either side of your head. “What’s the matter, little queen?” he purred, his voice mocking but laced with dark amusement. “Scared?” 

You swallowed thickly, your throat dry as you struggled to find your voice. “It’s... there’s no way that’s going to fit,” you managed, your words tumbling out in a rush. In the dark of his chambers last night, you hadn’t gotten a good look of all that he had been... carrying, but now, now you were petrified. 

His grin sharpened, his crimson eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Oh, it’ll fit,” he said, his voice dripping with confidence. “You’ll take all of me, and you’ll love it, just as you did the night before.” 

You instinctively tried to pull your hips away as he hooked a clawed finger under the hem of your panties, sliding the thin fabric down your legs. The cool air brushed against your wetness, a stark contrast to the heat pooling low in your belly. Sukuna’s lower hands spread your legs wider, his grip unyielding as he pressed your thighs against the cold stone of the throne. 

“Look at you,” he murmured, his tone mocking yet edged with desire. “Already so wet for me.” 

The flush that spread across your face wasn’t just from embarrassment—it was from the undeniable truth in his words. You hated how your body betrayed you, how the slick evidence of your arousal pooled between your thighs, but there was no denying it. You gasped as his long finger slid inside you without warning, the stretch startling and impossibly full. 

The feeling was overwhelming. One finger, impossibly thick, curled inside you, brushing against spots that made your vision blur and your breath hitch. His palm pressed against your clit with every thrust, the pressure sending jolts of pleasure racing through your body. You clung to his robes, your trembling hands seeking something to anchor you as your hips began to grind against his hand, desperate for more. 

“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice dripping with dark amusement as his finger pumped steadily in and out of you. “I’ll get you ready before the real thing.” 

You opened your mouth to respond, to retort, but his upper hands cupped your face, tilting your chin upward as his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was feral, consuming, leaving no room for hesitation. His tongue, hot and impossibly strong, invaded your mouth with an intensity that left you breathless. 

The obscene sound of wetness filled the air as his hand continued its relentless rhythm, each stroke sending you closer to the edge. The warmth of his mouth, the rough scrape of his claws against your skin, the maddening pressure of his palm against your clit—it was too much. Your legs trembled, your body arching against him as the coil of pleasure in your belly tightened, threatening to snap. 

But just as you were about to fall over the precipice, everything stopped. His hand withdrew, his touch vanishing like the echo of a scream, leaving you trembling and empty. 

“No, no, no,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as fat tears welled in your eyes, spilling down your flushed cheeks. “Please... don’t stop. I’ll be good. I’ll do whatever you want. Please, Sukuna.” 

He chuckled, a dark, mocking sound that sent another shiver racing through you. “Didn’t I tell you?” he said, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “I’m preparing you for the real thing.” 

Before you could respond, he shifted you effortlessly, his lower hands gripping your hips and lifting you into the air as though you weighed nothing. You found yourself straddling him, your thighs spread wide as he aligned your entrance with the thick, pulsing tip of his cock. 

“Wait—hold on—” you tried, but the words dissolved into a choked cry as he began to lower you onto him. 

The stretch was unlike anything you’d ever felt, the overwhelming pressure stealing the air from your lungs as he pushed inside. You squirmed, your body writhing against his unrelenting hold, but his hands kept you firmly in place. 

“Relax,” he growled, his voice rough with restraint. “You’ll take it all.” 

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face as you whimpered against the impossible fullness. “I can’t—it’s too much—” 

But Sukuna didn’t stop. Inch by agonizing inch, he pushed deeper, his jaw tightening as your walls clenched around him like a vice. His claws dug into your hips, not enough to break the skin but enough to remind you who was in control. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, his crimson eyes narrowing as he watched you struggle to take him. “You’re tighter than I expected.” 

You cried out as he shifted, the thick girth of him stretching you in ways you hadn’t thought possible. Every nerve in your body was alight, every sensation amplified as he bottomed out, his cock buried to the hilt. The wet, obscene sound of your joining filled the throne room, echoing off the stone walls as you trembled in his grasp. 

“You feel that?” he asked, his voice a low rumble as he held you there, unmoving. “That’s what it means to be mine.” 

You could only nod weakly, your body trembling as you tried to adjust to the overwhelming sensation. His hands moved then, one slipping to your clit to rub slow, deliberate circles, while another cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer until his lips brushed against your ear. 

“Beg for me,” he whispered, his tone dark and commanding. “Beg for more.” 

And as his hips began to move, slow and unrelenting, you realized with a mix of despair and exhilaration that you would. You would beg. Because nothing else had ever felt like this—nothing else ever could. 

The throne room echoed with the sharp slap of flesh against flesh, each sound reverberating off the high stone walls as Sukuna relentlessly drove into you. His pace was unyielding, each thrust lifting you from his lap only to slam you back down onto his thick length with bruising force. Your mind was a haze of sensation, every nerve alight as your body struggled to keep up with the overwhelming fullness he brought. 

You screamed as he pulled back and thrust into you again, the sudden motion making your eyes roll back, a mix of dull ache and searing pleasure radiating through your body. Tears streamed down your flushed face, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you clawed at his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor you. 

For a fleeting moment, a sliver of rationality whispered in Sukuna’s mind to be gentler, to ease his way into you. You were human, fragile, a fraction of his size. But that thought dissolved the moment he felt your slick, molten walls clench around him, gripping him so tightly it bordered on maddening. And then there was the way you looked at him—your wide, teary eyes filled with unrestrained desperation and awe. That gaze burned away any semblance of restraint he might have had. 

"Fuck, look at you," he growled, his voice rough with raw satisfaction. "You're mine—just like this." 

Your drool glistened on your chin as your head lolled back, your lips parted in a silent cry. He gripped you with all four of his hands, lifting you like you weighed nothing, using your body as if you were made solely for his pleasure. The sheer size of him stretched you beyond reason, each punishing thrust scraping against every sensitive spot inside you with ruthless precision. 

The pain that had initially consumed you melted into a fiery pleasure, every inch of him setting your nerves alight. Your moans spilled out freely now, raw and unrestrained, mingling with the wet, obscene sounds of your slickness and his unrelenting movements. 

“Shit, you feel better than I expected,” Sukuna grunted, his breath coming in short bursts. His crimson eyes burned into you, watching the way your body shook and quivered under his relentless onslaught. “Gonna have to do this every day. Fuck you like this all the time.” 

The words sent a new wave of heat rushing through you, your nails digging into his shoulders as you tried to cling to some semblance of control. But control was a distant memory now, lost to the intensity of his possession. Your body reacted on instinct, your hips rolling against him, meeting his thrusts in desperate, needy movements. 

And then it hit you—something unfamiliar, overwhelming. A sudden build-up of tension in your core, a tightness that felt like it would snap at any moment. It was unlike anything you’d felt before, a cascade of pleasure so intense it bordered on unbearable. 

Your words faltered, caught in your throat as the sensation consumed you. Your body trembled uncontrollably, your breathing shallow and erratic as you clung to him, unsure of how to describe what was happening. 

Sukuna, of course, understood. His grin widened, his movements growing faster, rougher, as his hands tightened their hold on your shaking frame. “Do it,” he commanded, his voice a low snarl against your ear. “Come for me, slut. Let me feel it. And I’ll fill you up—if it spills, I’ll fuck it back into you.” 

The vulgar promise shattered the last of your restraint. With a sharp cry, the knot in your stomach unraveled, and your world exploded in a burst of ecstasy. Your walls clamped down around him, waves of pleasure wracking your body as you threw your head back, your scream echoing through the throne room. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” Sukuna growled, his hips stuttering as your release pulled him over the edge. His movements grew erratic, his breaths ragged as he thrust deep into you one final time. His release came in hot, overwhelming spurts, filling you to the brim. The sensation of his cum flooding you sent another shiver of pleasure through your trembling body, your nails raking down his back as you tried to ground yourself. 

There was so much of him, too much, the thick fluid leaking out around where you were still joined. It rolled down the length of his cock, pooling at the base and dripping onto his thighs, a visible testament to his possession. 

Sukuna chuckled lowly, his breath hot against your skin as he held you close. “Fuck, you did good,” he murmured, his tone softer now, though no less satisfied. “So good.” 

“Mine,” he said again, the word carrying a finality that left no room for doubt. And as you sat there, completely spent and utterly claimed, you realized you didn’t have the strength—or the desire—to argue. 

The throne room was silent now, the air heavy with the scent of sweat, sex, and the faint metallic tang of Sukuna’s cursed energy. The dim light of the braziers cast flickering shadows across the polished stone walls, reflecting the chaos that had just unfolded. The throne itself bore the marks of your encounter—claw marks etched into its edges, fabric askew, and the faint indentations where Sukuna’s strength had gripped too tightly. 

You slumped against him, your body trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure that still hummed through your veins. His hands—large, clawed, and unnervingly steady—rested on your hips, his grip firm yet strangely tender. His chest rose and fell beneath you, the sound of his breathing a deep, resonant rhythm that matched the pulse of your still-thundering heart. 

The silence stretched between you, heavy and electric, until Sukuna broke it with a low chuckle. “What’s the matter, little queen?” he asked, his voice rough with satisfaction. “Cat got your tongue?” 

You lifted your head just enough to meet his gaze, your eyes narrowing despite the flush still staining your cheeks. “I’m... processing,” you said, your voice hoarse but edged with defiance. “Unlike you, I don’t revel in—whatever this is.” 

He laughed again, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Whatever this is?” he echoed, his grin widening. “Is that what you’re calling it now?” 

You tried to push away from him, but his hands tightened on your hips, holding you in place. “Don’t move,” he commanded, his tone softer than usual but no less authoritative. “I like you just where you are.” 

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but you refused to let him see how easily he could affect you. “You’re insufferable,” you muttered, though the heat in your voice betrayed you. 

“And yet, here you are,” he replied smoothly, his crimson eyes gleaming. “Still in my lap. Still mine.” 

The words hung heavily between you, their weight pressing against the fragile truce that had formed in the wake of your passion. You hated how easily he could make you feel small, vulnerable—how his presence seemed to strip away the walls you had so carefully constructed. 

“I don’t belong to anyone,” you said finally, your voice quiet but firm. “Not even you.” 

Sukuna’s grin faltered, his eyes narrowing as his grip on your hips loosened slightly. “Is that so?” he asked, his tone deceptively calm. “Because I seem to recall you screaming my name not too long ago.” 

You flushed, your chest tightening as the memory of his touch, his voice, and the overwhelming sensation of him flooded your mind. “That doesn’t mean you own me,” you said, forcing the words past the lump in your throat. “I chose this. I chose you. That doesn’t mean I’m yours to control.” 

His laughter was softer this time, laced with something you couldn’t quite name. “Oh, little queen,” he murmured, his hands trailing slowly up your sides. “You can keep telling yourself that. But you’re here, aren’t you? Still fighting, still rising to every challenge I throw your way. Why is that?” 

You bit your lip, your gaze dropping as the question settled heavily in the space between you. Why were you still here? Was it the power he offered, the promise of standing at his side? Or was it something deeper, something you weren’t ready to name? 

“I’m here because I want to be,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you dictate who I am.” 

Sukuna’s expression shifted, his grin softening into something sharper, more deliberate. “Good,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “I’d be bored if you did.” 

You looked up at him, startled by the honesty in his words. He wasn’t mocking you, wasn’t trying to tear you down. If anything, there was a flicker of something resembling pride in his gaze—a rare, fleeting acknowledgment of the fire he saw in you. 

“Then stop testing me,” you said, your voice trembling with frustration. “If you want me to stand beside you, stop trying to break me.” 

He tilted his head, his four eyes narrowing as he considered your words. “I’m not trying to break you,” he said finally, his tone quieter now. “I’m forging you.” 

The declaration struck harder than you expected, the weight of it sinking deep into your chest. You opened your mouth to argue, but he leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke again. 

“You think I want a queen who bows, who breaks under the weight of my expectations?” he asked, his voice a low growl. “No. I want someone who rises. Someone who matches me, who pushes me. And that’s you.” 

The words left you momentarily stunned, your breath catching as his hands slid up to cup your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes burned into yours, their sharp intensity leaving no room for doubt. 

“You’ve already proven yourself,” he continued, his voice soft but unyielding. “Now prove to yourself that you belong here. With me.” 

The room fell into silence once more, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. For the first time, you saw something deeper in his gaze—something raw and unguarded, buried beneath the layers of arrogance and cruelty. And in that moment, you realized that Sukuna wasn’t just testing you. He was testing himself, too. 

“I don’t need to prove anything to anyone,” you said finally, your voice steady despite the storm raging within you. “Not even you.” 

Sukuna’s grin returned, sharp and predatory, but there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes. “Then show me,” he said simply, his tone carrying the weight of a challenge. “Show me what it means to be my queen.” 

You didn’t respond, but as his hands fell away and the silence settled over the room once more, you knew that the battle between you was far from over. And yet, beneath the tension, there was a strange, unspoken understanding—a fragile bond forged in fire and blood, stronger than either of you wanted to admit. 

The storm outside Sukuna’s domain was unlike any other—an unnatural tempest that seemed to pulse with malevolence. The once-clear skies churned with dark clouds, jagged with streaks of violet lightning that struck the horizon with deafening cracks. The wind howled through the halls of the estate, carrying with it the scent of ozone and something far more sinister: decay. 

You stood in the throne room, your chest still heaving from the heated exchange with Sukuna. The lingering hum of his cursed energy still clung to the air, but it felt distant now, overshadowed by the oppressive force pressing down on the entire domain. The braziers flickered erratically, their flames shrinking against the unseen weight that had crept into the room like a specter. 

Sukuna sat on his throne, his crimson eyes narrowed as he stared out the massive windows that overlooked his domain. His usual smugness was gone, replaced by a sharp focus that sent a chill down your spine. His claws tapped against the armrest of his throne in a slow, deliberate rhythm, the sound echoing in the tense silence. 

You took a step closer, your voice steady despite the unease gnawing at you. “What is it?” 

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, as if listening to something beyond the range of mortal ears. His cursed energy flared briefly, sharp and biting, before settling into a low, steady hum. 

“A storm,” he said finally, his voice low and cold. “But not one of nature.” 

Your brow furrowed as you moved to his side, your gaze drawn to the chaotic sky beyond the windows. The storm seemed alive, its tendrils of lightning writhing like serpents, striking with a precision that defied chance. You could feel it now—the faint, insidious presence that had slipped into the edges of the domain, testing the boundaries like a predator circling its prey. 

“What kind of storm?” you asked, though the weight in your chest already told you the answer wasn’t simple. 

Sukuna’s grin returned, sharp and humorless. “One meant for me.” 

The words hung heavily in the air, their weight pressing against you like the storm itself. Before you could respond, a deep, resonant boom echoed through the estate, shaking the very foundations. The braziers sputtered, their flames nearly extinguished before flaring back to life. Dust rained down from the high beams as the walls groaned under the force of the impact. 

Sukuna was on his feet in an instant, his towering frame radiating power as his cursed energy surged outward in a protective wave. You felt it brush against your skin, warm and electric, before it settled into the room, reinforcing the estate against the unseen threat. 

The doors to the throne room burst open, slamming against the walls with a force that made the stone tremble. Uraume stepped inside, their usual composure fractured by the urgency in their movements. Their pale eyes were sharp, their expression grim as they bowed quickly before addressing Sukuna. 

“My lord,” they said, their voice tight with urgency. “It’s not just the storm. There’s... something in it.” 

Sukuna’s gaze didn’t waver from the windows, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Something?” he repeated, his tone low and dangerous. “Be specific.” 

Uraume hesitated, their jaw tightening before they continued. “A presence. Unlike any we’ve faced before. It’s... ancient.” 

The word sent a shiver down your spine, the weight of its implication settling heavily in the room. You exchanged a glance with Sukuna, but his expression was unreadable, his crimson eyes fixed on the storm as though daring it to come closer. 

“Ancient,” he murmured, the word rolling off his tongue like a curse. “How quaint.” 

Another deafening boom echoed through the estate, this time accompanied by a low, guttural sound that sent a wave of nausea rolling through you. It wasn’t quite a roar, nor was it entirely human—it was something in between, a sound that spoke of things that shouldn’t exist in this world. 

The cursed energy in the room spiked, sharp and suffocating. You pressed a hand to your chest, steadying yourself against the onslaught as Sukuna’s power rose to meet the threat. His grin widened, razor-sharp and filled with anticipation, as he turned to Uraume. 

“Raise the defenses,” he commanded, his voice carrying the weight of absolute authority. “Whatever it is, it won’t breach this domain without a fight.” 

Uraume nodded sharply, their movements brisk as they turned to leave. But before they reached the doors, another sound pierced the air—a voice, low and resonant, that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. 

“Sukuna,” it called, the single word laced with an unnatural echo that reverberated through your bones. “King of Curses.” 

You froze, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end as the voice continued, each syllable dripping with malice. “Your reign is over.” 

The windows shattered in an explosion of glass and cursed energy, the storm outside roaring as if in response to the declaration. Wind howled through the throne room, carrying with it the faint scent of rot and decay. You shielded your face from the shards, your heart pounding as Sukuna stepped forward, his laughter cutting through the chaos like a blade. 

“Is that so?” he called back, his tone mocking yet laced with danger. “Then come and take it.” 

The storm surged, its tendrils of lightning striking the ground with renewed ferocity. Shadows coalesced in the shattered windows, their forms shifting and writhing as they began to take shape. A figure emerged, tall and imposing, its silhouette cloaked in darkness. Its eyes burned like twin embers, casting a malevolent light that pierced the gloom. 

Sukuna’s cursed energy flared brighter, his four eyes narrowing as he stepped toward the figure. His grin widened, sharp and feral, as he extended one of his clawed hands. 

“Let’s see if you’re worthy of the challenge,” he said, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver racing down your spine. 

The figure didn’t respond, but the weight of its presence pressed against you, suffocating and relentless. The storm roared louder, the air crackling with cursed energy as the throne room became a battlefield waiting to ignite. 

And then, with a final surge of power, the figure stepped fully into the room, its form solidifying as it spoke once more. 

“Your time is up, Sukuna,” it said, its voice carrying the weight of centuries. “The era of the King of Curses ends tonight.” 

dividers by @strangergraphics

AUTHORS NOTE When in doubt, write more smut :)

TAGLIST @slutlight2ndver @surielstea @duhhitzstarr @arcanefeelings @numbuh666 @tejan-sunny @lavenderandoranges @after-laughter-comes-tears @maomimii @theplacetoputfics

[theelizamanelli]

Kanpai

Fumiko is the first daughter to be born into the Hime clan in over a century. A secret prophecy forces her into the path of imminent danger. After a failed assassination attempt, the Jujutsu elders dictate that she requires more aggressive security measures. How will cheerful Fumiko Hime handle the coldness of her new bodyguard Kento Nanami?  Tags: 18+, kento nanami x female oc, bodyguard, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, eventual romance, eventual smut, blood and violence, implied/referenced death, implied/referenced torture, attempted kidnapping link to all chapters link to ao3

Note from the author: Referenced characters from Tengoku, a gojo x female oc fic, you do not need to read this to understand but it is highly recommended. Thank you!

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Chapter Two

——————————————————————————————————

One Week Prior

Kento Nanami

——————————————————————————————————

“I am recommending you for a new mission,” said Yaga, turning a doll over in his hands. “A security detail.”

Kento stood in front of the desk, staring down at him. The man’s face showed no emotion, no gauge on whether this job would prove to be a nuisance or not. Though he had to admit that Yaga’s repertoire of facial expressions was limited.

Kento's eyes narrowed, “Who is the security detail for?” He reasoned that if he would have to spend his free time protecting someone he could only hope it would be a worthwhile client.

“Fumiko Hime,” he stated, turning his gaze upwards.

“Who?” Kento asked, his eyes squinting in response. 

“Fumiko Hime,” Yaga repeated, his fingers absentmindedly twirling the doll’s hand, “the only daughter to be born in the Hime clan in centuries.” 

Kento sighed, his desire for a person of value slowly dwindled as Yaga continued. Yet another influential family fighting to protect a spoiled rich girl so they can inevitably marry her off to the highest bidder.

Yaga turned his chair towards the window, “There has been a leak, a prophecy linking her and the effective ruin of curses as we know it. We don’t have all of the details but that is my understanding.”

Kento stretched his neck reflexively, his irritation beginning to reflect across his features, “Why is this a problem now?”

Yaga ignored his growing frustration, “Apparently it comes to fruition on her twenty-third birthday.”

“Let me guess. She’s twenty-two?” inquired Kento, acid consuming his tone. 

Yaga nodded, turning to face him, “Unfortunately for Hime, there have already been threats to her life. Her Father wants her to be watched in case one of them decides to act.”

“I understand,” Kento swiftly shifted towards the exit, his jaw clenched.

“Kento, I chose you for a reason. Please take care,” Yaga placed the doll on the table before returning to his papers. 

Kento hesitated, his fingers grazing the knob. He shook his head slightly and exited the room, venturing back out to the field. He watched as Iyashi trained with Gojo, her kaikens piercing through the air towards him as he dodged gracefully out of their path. Yaga’s words echoed through his mind, what reason he had to choose him - he was entirely unsure.

“I hear you got stuck watching over the princess,” Ino stepped towards Kento, settling in next to him.

“Who?” he replied, his tone tinged with agitation.

“The princess? Fumiko Hime?” Ino responded, angling his body towards Kento.

He pierced him with an incredulous look at the mention of the nickname.

“I don’t know, that’s just what they call her,” he replied with a shrug. 

——————————————————————————————————

Present Day

Fumiko Hime

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“A what?” shouted Fumiko, her head whipping towards him.

“A curfew,” Nanami sat in the chair at the island, sipping a cup of tea before setting it back down.

Fumiko scoffed at the proposition.

Nanami continued, seemingly unaffected by her blatant look of disgust, “It will be easier to keep you safe. There are a great deal of horrors that occur at night in this area.”

 “Listen, I understand that you have a job to do but you don’t control me,” responded Fumiko, her brows furrowing.

“You are correct. I do not. I am employed to protect you, though. A duty I take seriously,” he raised his eyes to meet hers, crossing his arms. “In order to do so effectively, we will be home by dark every night.”

Her glare lingered on him as she swiped her dishes into the sink with a clatter, a clear indication that the conversation was over. 

When she had awoken that morning, Nanami had entered her home without notice. This had only served as a grating reminder that he had recently criticized Fumiko’s observational skills; her track record now appearing to lean in his favor. 

Much to her dismay.

Fumiko roughly shoved her shoes on before ripping the bag from the bench, her face tight with frustration. Slipping her headphones over her ears, she threw the front door open. 

Tapping her foot impatiently, she turned in his direction, “Are you coming?” 

Nanami considered her for a moment before he stood - placing his mug in the sink carefully and striding towards the door.

He braced his arm above Fumiko’s head, gesturing for her to walk through first. A slight pink spread through the back of her neck before she huffed, hurrying towards the elevator. 

As they walked through the lobby she noted that he would occasionally sweep the area with his eyes before turning them forward. His face unwavering in its seriousness. 

The city appeared particularly calm for the morning, the foot traffic light. Fumiko was grateful for the unexpected surrounding peace. On a normal day she would take these early hours slower. Her frustration had hastened her pace that morning, forcing her to skip out on favored activities.

Her eyes darted towards Nanami, his mouth was tight as he assessed his surroundings. Fumiko was unsure she wanted to share her mornings with this man. She was deeply aware of what he thought of her lifestyle, the short burst of memory flitting across her vision before she scowled - increasing her stride. 

Nanami didn’t falter at the change, keeping step with her until they had reached the walkway to the University. Fumiko tightened her hold on the bag before trekking towards the door. Throwing it open, she ventured towards the stairs - careful to hold onto the railing as she ascended. 

“Hey, Miko!” yelled a man from down the hallway, waving enthusiastically.

“Good morning!” she replied with a smile before walking into the classroom. 

Without looking in his direction she gestured to a chair in the corner of the room, “If you insist on staying, you can sit there.”

Without a reply, Nanami strode towards where she pointed - sitting down and crossing his legs. His eyes trailed around the room, a hand resting on his knee. Fumiko placed her bag on her chair, slowly setting up her desk with a laptop and water bottle.

The door creaked open, a quiet voice echoing through the gap, “Miko, are you here already?”

Fumiko smiled, “Good morning, Isa. Please come in.”

A short, thin man entered the room - his brown hair laying haphazardly. His posture was slightly curved, his face soft and kind. He walked towards the piano that sat on the opposite side of Nanami.

“I was surprised to hear your voice in the hallway, you’re never here this early.” his eyes darted nervously towards the foreboding man who had straightened at his entrance, “You have a guest.”

Fumiko cocked her head slightly before realizing who he was referring to, “Him? Oh, he’s just,” she swallowed hard - desperately grasping for an excuse, “auditing the class for the semester.”

Isamu threw her a skeptical glance before shrugging. He sat down at the piano, beginning to warm up the keys as Fumiko floated around the room. Attempting to tidy the chairs and erase what was left on the board from the previous week. 

The day continued, Fumiko instructed on vocal performance and music theory before taking on her private voice lessons with Isa as instrumental. Nanami sat quietly in the corner, never once getting up but simply gazing at her over his glasses. 

The last student exited as Fumiko threw her bag over her shoulder, careful to slide her hair out of the way. Her eyes connected with Nanami as he stood straight, walking in her direction. 

If it weren’t for the tension in their past, Fumiko would reason that he was an exceedingly handsome man. His muscles were well outlined in the blue shirt, the top buttons undone. Fumiko realized he wasn’t wearing his tie, suddenly remembering how he knelt before her. A blush painted her cheeks as she turned towards the door. 

Walking home in silence, Fumiko was careful to stare forward. There were a variety of people rushing about on the streets at this hour. Nanami remained close to her, lingering only a step behind. She noted that men and women stared up at him as they passed, careful to keep their distance. Though disgruntled at the unwanted attention, she admitted that it was easier to make the venture home when she wasn’t fighting traffic in the opposite direction.

“Please help me!” shouted a young girl as she slammed into Fumiko’s legs causing her to jolt - she clutched her small shoulders in an attempt for balance. Nanami quickly stepped to Fumiko’s side, placing his arm across her chest - halting her movement towards the girl.

“Please, I can’t find my Mom,” she frantically reached for Fumiko’s hand, attempting to pull her in the opposite direction. Leaning downwards, she attempted to stretch past Nanami’s arm but was abruptly stopped with a firm brace.

“The police across the street should be able to help you,” he pointed with his free hand towards the marked vehicle parked along the curb.

“No, no, no. Please!” the girl cried, digging her nails into Fumiko’s hand. She jerked against Nanami’s arm at the force, her bag slipping from her shoulder - the weight of it dragging her further down.

“We could help her,” Fumiko's eyes softened at the desperation in the girl's eyes. 

“No,” he responded, intently staring at their intertwined hands. “Let her go.” 

The girl ignored Nanami, staring directly into Fumiko’s eyes. She noted that they were an odd shade of blue, goosebumps rose along her body at the distress in her features. The girl continued to dart her pupils frantically, intermittently returning to hers. 

“Let her go or I will force you to,” Nanami repeated firmly, he had not altered his stance. His arm braced against Fumiko, acting as a barrier whenever the girl would pull her forward.

She continued to avoid Nanami, as if she knew this would be her last opportunity she yanked Fumiko roughly downwards causing her knees to buckle - nearly hitting the concrete. 

Quickly grabbing her shoulder, Nanami yanked her behind him. He reached both of his hands towards Fumiko, gripping her hips to steady her. He took a step behind, pushing them both backwards. 

“Stupid bitch!” screamed the girl, hurdling herself towards Nanami - her teeth bared. 

He continued to reverse, Fumiko reached for his shirt - tightening her grip on the fabric to keep herself from tripping in his haste to create distance between the attacker. 

Nanami slid his weapon out from the sling on his back, his remaining hand clutching onto her leggings - his knuckle rubbing against the bare skin on Fumiko’s hip. The girl slashed at his torso causing him to lean back, his blade slid through the air - slicing into her shoulder. 

She screamed in agony, frantically reaching for the area where the blood spurted into the air. Without allowing her a reprieve, Nanami struck again on the opposite side causing the girl to fall to her knees. He quickly sliced through her neck, her head catapulting towards the wall - it collided with a sickening thud and rolled along the concrete. 

Fumiko’s eyes widened at the sight of her blue eyes boring into hers. She averted her gaze quickly, her head instinctively nuzzling into his back. 

She felt his fingers slowly unfurl from her hip, a few moments passed between the two before Nanami spoke, “You are too trusting.”

Fumiko scowled, roughly shoving his back with both of her hands - he stood unwavering. 

——————————————————————————————————

The water slid along the ceramic of the sink, a stark red against the white. Fumiko stared down at the puncture wounds along her hand where the girl dug her nails in a desperate attempt to lure her away. 

The blue eyes of the decapitated head haunted the edges of her vision, the tips of her fingers beginning to numb underneath the cold faucet. Fumiko shook her head, she sat on the edge of the tub - dripping along the tile. 

How easily she would have been killed if Nanami hadn’t been there to keep her from following the child. His last words echoed in her head, if she was too trusting then he was too guarded. She reasoned that if there ever were a moment where she was not immediately inclined to aid someone in need then she should return to her Father’s home to become the mindless bride he wished for.

A soft knock at the door caused her to jump, she grabbed the nearest towel to dry her hands before gripping the knob - inching it open. Nanami’s stoic face appeared in the gap, a green glint of his glasses catching her eye. 

“How is your hand?” his gaze trailed down towards where she held the towel. 

“Fine,” she responded tightly, pulling the door open and sliding past him. 

“Good,” he replied, his footsteps sounding behind her as she neared her room. 

Quickly turning towards him in the doorway, she placed one hand on the frame, “Thank you for your service,” she bit out before closing the door in his face. 

His muffled response slid underneath the door, “You’re welcome.” 

Falling onto her bed, she opened her mouth to scream but no noise came out. She clenched her fists, the frustration beginning to overwhelm her. She rolled over, placing her head onto the pillow and sighing. 

A slow vibration came from the night stand, Fumiko reached over and dragged the phone off the edge. 

Ren: Haven’t heard from you all day, hope you’re not dead. 

Miko: I might as well be.

Ren: Yikes. 

A slow smile spread through Fumiko’s lips, she threw the device onto the comforter before pushing herself upwards. The irritation of the day was weighing heavily, she took a deep breath before venturing to the bathroom.

A long hot shower, soft pajamas, and a skincare routine later - Fumiko entered the kitchen. She yanked the fridge open to look for a drink, Yuki weaved in between her legs before stretching. Bending over to slide her hands over her fur, her eyes caught on the soda she had hidden in the bottom drawer. 

Fumiko smiled, straightening in triumph as Yuki scurried from the area. Taking a long drink, she slowly turned in the direction of the living room.

Nanami sat on the couch, a newspaper strewn onto the table as the sound of a reporter softly floated through the air from the television. He sipped from a mug slowly turning the page. 

Fumiko paused, her eyes grazing his body - a pair of flannel blue pajama pants and a gray shirt. 

“You’re still here?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes,” he answered, not bothering to look in her direction.

“Why?” she responded, setting her drink down on the counter.

“I am here to protect you,” his tone laced with annoyance, as if she were a child he was having to explain something to for the hundredth time.

“I am aware of that,” she seethed. “It’s ten at night, what are you still doing here?”

He paused, taking a slow sip of his mug before placing it on the end table, “I live here now.” 

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chapter three

if you want to be notified when a new chapter is posted

[spoksstuff]

Choso 💭 *matchy-matchy = fated brothers*

credits to the original artist @yakult9_chim on X & ig

[shimisstuff]

The new cover inspired all of this, it’s not my fault 😭

18+ on Patreon

[analikalee]

[daemontargaryenwhore]

I had enough

[gamblersdoll]

“choso, been an hour.”

“nuh uh.”

you groan, looking down to him as he sucks a nipple of yours. he squeezes the other, relaxing into your warmth. he didn’t always do this sexually, sometimes he just needs to be so close with you.

he also gave butt rubs in a non sexual way as well. he lives for intimacy, and these felt more intimate than sex alone.

this time, he was on edge for whatever reason, stumbling to your house and just holding you. until he mumbled that he wanted to do this, yet he doesnt mean a sexual way.

that was an hour ago, and hes been sucking on the same nipple for an hour.

“chose, baby boy, switch to another nipple.” you say, shifting your body to get even more comfortable.

he groans, looking up at you. “but this my favorite one…”

“… you have a favorite?” you ask, never even heard of that shit.

“yeah, i love both, of course. but.. this one, your right one has a taste–“

“okayyy, you can suckle on that one some more.” you chime in, chuckling when he smiles and pops it back into his mouth.

for you, sure it became sore for a while, but to choso he was in heaven.

[helloitsshenart]

Average Satosugu morning?

-

Characters belong to the Jujutsu Kaisen universe, art is original by me. Please do not repost, trace, copy or otherwise use my art without permission AND credit.

[softrashame]

i just had to…

[chromateclipse]

TAKADAA CHAAAANNN

[serene555]

MMA! Toji who comes back to your apartment each evening after his training session in the gym every day instead of going back to his big ass luxury condo just because he needs to see his pretty brat after the shitty day he’s had.

MMA! Toji who tries his best not to act like a love sick fool and kiss you all over that sleepy little face when you emerge from your bedroom being woken from your little nap, half asleep after hearing the front door being opened as he enters, his gym bag dropping on the floor.

MMA! Toji who buries his face in your neck the first thing when you step closer as he inhales that sweet scent of yours after the long shitty day he’s had, the tension in those bulging muscles of his easing just a little as you welcome him home in that sleepy soft voice which just melts that cold heart of his.

MMA! Toji who hated your cramped little apartment because he was too used to his luxury one yet came back here every evening anyway because his largo condo felt too empty compared to the warmth your little apartment held.

Because, his home was where you were.

[torutorubaby]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. JJK PORN LINKS!!

pt. 2

SATORU

putting his fingers inside that pretty mouth

giving it to his pretty girl

slow and gentle

sending you clips

can't even wait till you're inside your apartment

KENTO

his pretty girl on his pretty lap

teasing him with those lace socks

breeding you in mating press

morning sex with husband kento

disciplining you

TOJI

using you

stretching you out

bending you over

manhandling his little girl

a different kind of payment with mechanic toji

[owwllly]

sukuna is joining the Gojo stans group