#neverending hum | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

themindofachronicdaydreamer · 5 days ago

Text

Sensei's in a Relationship?

floofy af plot: after overhearing their sensei on the phone, nobara and yuuji begin to conspire about who Satoru Gojo was calling sweetie - only to learn he's married? content: just typical lighthearted jujutsu high kinda things word count: 4.3k satoru gojo x fem!reader note: he's so husband

"Sensei!?" Nobara Kugisaki exclaims in disbelief. "He is in a relationship? Are you sure?"

"Positive!" Yuuji Itadori aggressively nods his head up and down in attempt to convince his classmate of what he saw, knowing she is doubting his integrity. "He was on the phone with someone talking about them coming home and called them sweetie. What else could that mean?"

"Um, a lot of things!" Nobara audibly rolled her eyes, sighing loudly and bringing her palm to her forehead in distress. "It could be, like, family. Maybe his mom, or his... sister? Does he have a sister? There is no way that man-child is in a relationship!"

"Sensei is not a man-child! He's very respectable!" Yuuji defends the honor of his teacher. "And I don't think he has a sister..."

"Respectable, my ass," Nobara quips under her breath, though she knows that as much as she may deny it, she respects her superior, Gojo, immensely; in all honesty, she looks up to him more than she'd like to admit to herself. He is obviously strong, titled The Strongest Sorcerer by the entirety of the Jujutsu society for a reason. Kugisaki has learned a lot from him and his untraditional teaching strategies - about both her own talents and about the world of jujutsu. However, his childish personality makes her second-guess trusting the authority, but it is a nice change from the intensity of the career path she has chosen.

To Nobara, Satoru Gojo is like a breath of fresh air from the pressure of her environment that suffocates her day after day. He brightens her days by buying his first-years sweet treats after missions he oversees and cracking lame jokes, teasing his students as he so loves to do. He endures her criticism and teenage attitude, even going as far as sassing her right back. Nonetheless, she keeps this information hidden from the outside world, opting instead for criticizing his immaturity.

"Hey, that's our sensei!" Itadori exclaims in anguish.

"Ugh. Seriously, who would willingly put up with... that?" the girl questions and motions in the direction of the school behind her, an attempt at pointing in their teacher's direction. Her nose is scrunched in scrutiny, her eyebrows furrowed in thought, and she is stuck in a neverending state of disbelief. "Right, Fushiguro?"

Megumi only hums in response, not bothering to articulate his opinion, as, soon enough, he is certain his classmates will learn for themselves who Gojo was talking to.

"Like, literally any person who respects themself would obviously steer very clear from him," she says, motivated by what she interpreted as Megumi agreeing with her. "Like Mr. Nanami!"

Yuuji stares at Nobara, his mind encapsulating him in an impossible mystery he hungers to solve. While there is always the possibility he heard wrong, he is almost one-hundred percent confident he in what he eavesdropped in on and reported back to his classmates. However, maybe he is assuming things and his teacher was just speaking to family - wait, does Gojo even have family? Obviously he has his clan which he is the main representative of, but nothing about parents or siblings has ever been spoken about by the man, nor has he ever mentioned a potential partner. If sensei was a private person with his relationships, then one would think he would not be such an open book all the time about every detail of his life.

"I dunno..." Yuuji contemplates, though he does not get the chance to continue his thoughts. Saving Yuuji from continuing down the spiral he is already racing down headfirst in, Nobara squeals a little before covering Yuuji's mouth with her hand.

"He's on his way over! Don't say a word," she warns.

Yuuji mumbles into her hand. His voice is muffled through her, but a confused what? can sort of be made out from it.

Megumi rolls his eyes at their antics, well aware of who his teacher was talking to on the phone call Itadori overheard, but not caring enough to confirm it to them. He kind of found it funny, actually. After all, you are the closest thing he has to a mom, raising him from when he was a child alongside Gojo, balancing his childlike mentality with your more maternal and serious one.

"Morning!" Gojo greets his students, chronically late as always.

"About time," Megumi groans.

"Sorry, buddy! Had some things I had to do. Y'know, places to be, people to talk to. But I'm here!" Gojo poses slightly as if to showcase himself to the teens in front of him. His hands are imitating jazz hands to emphasize his arrival.

Gojo pauses, sensing the heavy scrutiny from his students. His smile widens, curiosity twinkling mischievously behind his blindfold.

“Oh?” he hums lightly, leaning toward them with playful suspicion coloring his tone. “What’s with the faces? Did you all miss me that much? Kugisaki, I knew you secretly liked me!"

Nobara flushes a shade akin to outrage, sputtering indignantly, “You wish, sensei! Keep dreaming.”

Gojo laughs, carefree and vibrant. “You’re always so mean to me. You’re breaking my delicate heart here.”

Megumi rolls his eyes again, but there’s a barely noticeable upturn at the corner of his lips. He enjoys the familiarity of their banter, even if he’d never admit it aloud.

Yuuji, however, cannot keep silent. His eyes practically sparkle with the burning question. “Sensei, who were you talking to on the phone just now?”

Nobara shoots him a glare sharper than daggers, but Yuuji remains unfazed, his gaze intensely fixed on his teacher.

“Phone call?” Gojo tilts his head innocently, playing dumb as effortlessly as he uses his limitless technique. “I’ve talked to plenty of people today, Yuuji. You’ll have to be a bit more specific.”

“Uh,” Yuuji stammers, suddenly unsure how to phrase it. “You called someone sweetie-”

Nobara cuts in desperately, “Which is weird, because we all know you’re single. No one in their right mind would put up with you."

Gojo’s smile softens at the edges, something gentle and private easing into the lines of his face. It’s subtle enough that they might have missed it, but Megumi sees it clear as day. “Oh, that call,” Gojo finally sighs dramatically, lifting his chin proudly. “I suppose it was bound to come out eventually.”

Nobara’s eyes narrow, and her whole body stiffens, as though bracing herself for some kind of cosmic joke. “Bound to come out eventually?” she echoes. “Oh my god, you’re actually serious right now?”

Gojo straightens up, his hands dropping to his sides as a rare moment of honesty glimmers behind his usual antics. “Dead serious.”

Nobara makes a strangled sound. “No. Nope. Not buying it. Not until I see her with my own eyes.”

“You’ll get your chance,” Gojo says with a shrug, as if he’s announcing the weather forecast. “She’s stopping by soon to bring me lunch.”

Yuuji, meanwhile, is positively buzzing. “She’s coming here? Like, here-here? When? Is she nice? Is she pretty? Do we need to prepare? Nobara, do we need to prepare?!”

“I’m not preparing anything,” she bites out, crossing her arms. “In fact, I’m preparing to prove this is all some elaborate prank. Like a cursed illusion or some weird social experiment.”

“You’re right,” Gojo muses, tapping his chin with mock gravity. “Love is the most cursed thing of all.”

Megumi makes a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan. “You’re all being ridiculous.”

Nobara rounds on him again, a gasp escaping her. “You knew?”

He shrugs, deadpan. “You didn’t ask.”

Yuuji’s jaw drops. “Traitor!”

Megumi only offers a faint smirk in response, folding his arms in a clear sign that he’s already lost interest in the theatrics of his classmates.

“I can’t believe Fushiguro knew this entire time and didn’t tell us!” Yuuji whines, his tone dramatically wounded.

Gojo places a hand over his heart, feigning deep offense. “Fushiguro, how could you betray their trust like that?”

Megumi meets Gojo’s dramatics with a flat stare. “I figured you’d embarrass yourself sooner or later.”

“Ouch!” Gojo laughs, clearly unbothered. “You kids wound me. Why am I being bullied by my own dear students?”

“Sensei,” Nobara interrupts sharply, eyes narrowed in challenge, “there’s still a chance this could all be a cruel prank. I’ll reserve my shock until I meet this mysterious... person of yours.”

As if summoned by Nobara’s skepticism, footsteps echo softly from around the corner, carrying a warmth and calm that instantly changes the atmosphere around the little group. You appear at the edge of the training grounds, a gentle smile lighting up your face when you spot Gojo. Immediately, he turns toward you, his expression melting into something softer, more tender.

“Ah, there she is,” Gojo says warmly, voice gentle enough to silence even Nobara’s pointed skepticism. He steps toward you, effortlessly accepting the lunch bag you hold out for him. Leaning down, he presses a swift, tender kiss to your forehead. “Thanks, sweetie.”

You smile up at him, affection etched delicately into your features as your fingers brush gently against his cheek. “You’re welcome. Figured you’d forget to eat if I didn’t.”

Gojo hums appreciatively, his smile wide and unguarded. “What would I ever do without you?”

“Probably starve,” you joke lightly, your eyes sparkling as your laughter mingles easily with his.

You smile up at him, affection etched delicately into your features as your fingers brush gently against his cheek. “You’re welcome. Figured you’d forget to eat if I didn’t.”

Gojo hums appreciatively, his smile wide and unguarded. “What would I ever do without you?”

“Probably starve,” you joke lightly, your eyes sparkling as your laughter mingles easily with his.

Behind you both, Yuuji is barely containing his excitement, practically bouncing on his heels as he elbows Nobara repeatedly. “Did you see that? They- she- he- ”

“Yeah, Itadori, I have eyes,” Nobara mutters, though she sounds far less sharp than usual, her disbelief rapidly dissolving into fascination.

Beside her, Megumi exhales through his nose, quiet but not dismissive. There’s a flicker of something softer in his eyes as they land on you. “I thought you were in Kyoto for an assignment.”

You nod, easy and calm. “I was, but I finished ahead of schedule. Surprise!”

Yuuji perks up, practically bouncing with interest. “Wait, what do you do exactly? Are you a sorcerer? I've never seen you around before...”

“Not exactly. I’m a jujutsu researcher,” you reply, tone steady but warm. “My focus is on understanding the emotional roots of curses. I was reviewing formation patterns at the archive in Kyoto and trying to trace how grief, fear, and trauma shape the energy that creates them.”

The courtyard falls quiet, the usual chaos of their group hushed by the weight of your words.

Nobara’s jaw drops, caught between awe and disbelief. “Wait. You study the psychology of curses?”

You nod again, offering a small, knowing smile. “We focus so much on exorcising curses that sometimes we forget to ask why they form in the first place. Not just where or how, but what kind of pain shapes them. What grief, what fear, what unresolved emotion manifests into something as malignant as a cursed spirit.”

Gojo, still chewing a mouthful of whatever you packed for him, raises a finger and adds with a mouthful, “She’s brilliant. Like, scary brilliant. Makes even me look like a loser.”

“You are a loser,” Megumi mutters under his breath, though there’s no heat behind it.

“But wait,” Yuuji says, eyes wide and burning with curiosity. “So you’re like, a curse therapist?”

You laugh, the sound light and unguarded. “In a way, I guess you could say that. I study how people’s emotional states affect the strength and shape of the curses they attract, or even create. Sometimes I work with sorcerers who’ve formed semi-conscious cursed techniques tied to past trauma. If we can untangle the memory, the technique stabilizes.”

“That’s insane,” Nobara says, her disbelief now tinged with respect. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“It’s still experimental,” you admit, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “But I think it’s worth trying. If we can find a way to understand the why, maybe fewer people will need to suffer through the what.”

Gojo watches you with a quiet sort of reverence, one hand still resting lightly on your back, grounding you there beside him. “Told you,” he murmurs. “Way out of my league.”

You shoot him a sideways glance. “You're the one who never did your homework.”

He gasps in mock offense. “Betrayed in front of my students? I’m wounded.”

“You’ll survive,” you reply sweetly, already used to his dramatics.

Yuuji, visibly starstruck, nudges Nobara again. “She’s like… cool and smart and nice. What the hell?”

“I know,” Nobara whispers back, still staring at you. “I was expecting, like, a cursed puppet or something. Not this.”

You laugh again, this time unable to help it. “You’re all very sweet. But really, I’m just trying to help where I can. My work takes me to a lot of places, but I always try to stop by when I’m back in Tokyo.”

“She also makes the best miso soup on Earth,” Gojo says proudly, lifting the thermos you packed like it’s a sacred relic. “And she listens to me complain about Nanami, which is honestly more than anyone should have to do.”

Nobara doesn’t respond immediately. Her arms are still crossed, but her posture has softened, her expression unreadable in a way that means her mind is sprinting miles ahead. “She’s way too good for him,” she mutters at last.

Gojo catches it instantly. “Hey! I heard that, Kugisaki!”

She glares at him. “You were meant to, sensei. Ugh! I still don’t get it,” How does someone like you end up with... him?”

You laugh aloud. "I ask myself that everyday."

Gojo groans, wrapping one of his long arms around your shoulders and pulling you tight against his side. "Hey! Rude. I met her the first day here at Jujutsu High and was immediately head over heels!"

You snort softly at the exaggeration, but Gojo only beams harder, chin tilted with theatrical pride.

“I’m serious!” he insists, tightening his hold around you. “I saw her standing in the courtyard, reading some dusty journal on cursed energy theory, and I thought: wow. That’s the woman who’s gonna bully me for the rest of my life.”

“And you were right,” you reply, patting his chest with mock sympathy. “I haven’t stopped since.”

Yuuji gasps like he’s watching a romance drama unfold in real time. “Wait, so you were classmates? You trained together?”

Gojo nods, clearly pleased with the attention. “We were in the same year. Dr Iieri, Mr. Geto, her, and me. Absolute dream team.”

Nobara’s brows furrow. “So you’ve known each other this whole time and just- what? Never told anyone?”

"I mean, our wedding was pretty big. Megumi was the ring bearer," Satoru points out.

You bite back a laugh, glancing sideways at your husband as you elbow him gently. “Satoru.”

“What?” he says, all faux innocence, lips twitching. “It was a beautiful ceremony. Cherry blossoms. Champagne. Nanami even cried.”

“Nanami did not cry,” you correct with a soft snort.

“He definitely teared up,” Gojo insists. “Ask Shoko. She made him hold the bouquet while we took photos.”

“Hold on, back up,” Nobara interrupts, voice high with disbelief. “You’re telling me you’re married to Gojo Satoru, and none of us knew?”

You lift a shoulder, casual. “We didn’t exactly hide it.”

“Yes you did!” Yuuji cries. “You’re literally hiding a whole spouse! That’s the definition of hiding!”

Gojo shrugs unrepentantly. “In my defense, I thought it would be obvious. I’m charming, she’s brilliant. It was fate.”

Megumi lets out a long-suffering sigh, clearly done with all of this. “You’re all loud. Can we go back to training now?”

“No,” Nobara says sharply, still stuck on the revelation. “I need at least ten minutes to mentally recover from the image of Gojo Satoru saying I do.”

Gojo grins. “You should’ve heard my vows. Very moving. I cried."

“And I,” you interject sweetly, “very nearly walked out.”

Gojo gasps in offense, hand to his chest like you’ve run him through with a cursed tool. “You didn’t!”

“I did,” you confirm, turning to Nobara and Yuuji with a stage whisper. “He quoted Titanic.”

“I said, ‘You jump, I jump,’ and meant it from the depths of my soul,” Gojo defends, now fully spiraling into theatrical despair. “And I ended it with ‘Even death cannot stop true love.’ That’s The Princess Bride, by the way. Which I also cried during.”

"I did too!" Yuuji agrees. "And then I was punched in the face..."

Megumi visibly recoils. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m romantic,” Gojo retorts.

“You’re dramatic,” you correct, eyes warm despite the dry tone.

“But it worked, didn’t it?” he grins, leaning into you. “Still locked in for life, baby.”

Yuuji clutches his face. “This is too much. My heart can’t take it.”

Nobara makes a strangled noise. “I need to lie down.”

Megumi exhales deeply, rubbing his temples like he’s already aged five years. “I’m begging you both to stop.”

But Yuuji’s nearly vibrating with excitement. “So you’re like… my teacher-in-law? Do I call you sensei, too? Or like... Gojo-sensei’s-sensei?”

“Please don’t,” you say quickly, laughing. “Just my name is fine. And get used to seeing me - I'm going to be around more frequently."

Yuuji gasps. “Wait, more frequently? Like, you’re gonna be here-here? Not just like, dropping off lunch but actually around?”

You nod, amused at his enthusiasm. “I’ve been asked to consult more closely with Jujutsu High’s faculty. There’s been increased interest in integrating psychological research into sorcerer support programs.”

“Which means,” Gojo cuts in, waggling his brows behind his blindfold, “you get the pleasure of my company every single day.”

“Oh no,” Nobara groans. “There’s going to be two of them now.”

“I’m not like him,” you promise, hand lifting in a mock oath. “I’m only insufferable on weekends.”

“That’s a lie,” Gojo snickers, leaning close. “She once made Nanami take a feelings quiz. You should’ve seen the look on his face when it told him he was a ‘sensitive hedgehog with trust issues.’”

“He needed to hear it,” you say matter-of-factly. "Most accurate test ever made."

Megumi, who’s been suspiciously quiet through all of this, finally speaks again. “You’re really staying here for good?”

You nod, meeting his gaze with quiet warmth. “For now. My home’s here. Always has been.”

And Megumi, though he doesn’t say it, feels that truth land somewhere deep. Because this is where you raised him, quietly, without fanfare, next to a man who taught him power, while you taught him peace. Your presence means stability, means comfort, means late-night tea in the kitchen when the weight of legacy bears down too heavy. It means help with homework he doesn't fully grasp, movie nights on a random Thursday, and random notes tucked into his backpack wishing him good luck for the day.

He looks away before the emotion shows, muttering a soft, “Okay.”

Yuuji, meanwhile, is still vibrating. “Wait! If you’re staying, does that mean you can help with training? Like, could you give me a mental strength seminar or something? I'm sure I have so much trauma I haven’t unpacked yet.”

“You’ve been possessed by the king of curses,” Nobara says flatly. “Of course you have trauma.”

“But think about it!” Yuuji flails his arms. “We could have like, therapy class! Emotional dodgeball or something!”

“Dodgeball is very much physical,” Megumi sighs.

“It’s metaphorical if you cry afterward,” Yuuji defends.

Gojo barks a laugh. “You’re going to love working with them. They’re so fun!”

“I think I already do,” you say softly, casting a glance over the students who, despite their wildness and noise, hold pieces of both your hearts.

Gojo slips an arm around your waist, his voice quiet but genuine now. “I'm glad you’re back.”

You lean into him. “Me too.”

There’s a pause. A warm, golden kind of stillness, broken only by Yuuji whispering to Nobara, “Do you think they have a pet? Like a cursed dog or something? What would its name be? Lovebug?”

Gojo hears, of course.

“Actually,” he grins, “we have a cat. Her name’s Mochi. She’s a menace.”

“She likes Megumi best,” you add.

“She’s a traitor,” Gojo pouts. “I feed her and everything.”

“Love recognizes restraint,” Megumi deadpans.

"And what do you know about love, Megumi?" your husband raises a brow at the raven-haired boy in front of you.

“Alright,” Nobara interrupts, rubbing her temples. “Everyone shut up. I’ve had enough wholesomeness and plot twists for one morning.”

Yuuji bounces beside her. “But isn’t it kinda awesome? Sensei’s married! Like, legally! He probably has paperwork and a joint bank account!”

“Why is that the part that excites you?” Nobara hisses.

"It's so domestic!" Yuuji responds.

Gojo beams, flinging a dramatic arm toward the sky like he’s in a musical. “That’s right, Itadori! Domestic bliss, baby! I do the grocery shopping, she yells at me for forgetting the soy sauce, and then we make up over dumplings.”

“You forgot it three weeks in a row,” you mutter under your breath.

“Tragedy builds character,” Gojo counters.

You sigh softly, pinching the bridge of your nose as Gojo continues rambling about how he once bravely fought off a “soy sauce demon” in aisle five. His voice crescendos with theatrical flair, hands painting invisible chaos in the air while the students blink at him, caught somewhere between horror and secondhand embarrassment.

“...and there I was, soy-sauce-less, surrounded by expired tofu, when-”

“That’s enough, Satoru.”

Your voice cuts cleanly through the chaos. It's soft, but unmistakably firm, and it lands like a pin drop in the middle of a warzone. Immediately, Gojo freezes mid-rant, one arm still half-raised in a reenactment of his imaginary grocery duel. His mouth opens, then shuts. Then opens again like he might try to wriggle his way out with charm-

“Nope,” you say before he can even begin. “Don’t try the puppy eyes. You know what you did.”

Gojo deflates with a whine, turning his head to pout in your direction like an overgrown toddler caught red-handed. “But baby-”

You give him the look. “Satoru Gojo.”

He sags further at the use of his full name. Then, sheepishly, he says, “...I’ll go write soy sauce on the list.”

“That’s what I thought.”

You say it with a small, satisfied smile and turn your attention back to the students as if nothing out of the ordinary just happened - like you didn’t just put the strongest sorcerer in the world in time-out using nothing but tone, context clues, and a glare.

The silence that follows is deafening.

Nobara blinks once. Twice.

And then slowly, so softly it’s barely audible, she mutters, “...Oh my god. I love her! They’re perfect for each other.”

Yuuji turns to her like she’s just cracked a cosmic code. “Right! I told you!”

Megumi simply exhales, muttering something that sounds a lot like finally, before walking toward the training field.

Gojo lingers beside you, head bowed just enough to rest his chin lightly on your shoulder with a dramatic little sigh. “Do you still love me even though I’m a soy-sauce-forsaking disappointment?”

You glance at him, then tilt your head so your cheek brushes against his. “More than anything.”

“Even more than Mochi?”

You pretend to think. “Well. Mochi doesn’t forget condiments.”

Gojo gasps in betrayal. “Et tu, sweetheart?”

You just pat his cheek. “Go join the others before I make you run laps.”

“I knew this marriage came with fine print,” he mumbles as he trudges after his students.

You watch the ridiculous, brilliant, utterly impossible man you married go, and then you turn back to Nobara, who’s still standing frozen, arms crossed and expression unreadable. Your eyes meet. There’s a beat of silence.

Then, wryly, you ask, “Still not convinced?”

Nobara’s lips twitch upward. “No. I am. He needs someone who keeps him in line.”

You grin. “And I enjoy doing it.”

With a final nod, she starts after the boys, shaking her head under her breath. “Honestly... you're iconic. I have a feeling we'll get along.”

"I think so too," you agree with a smile.

And just like that, the world resets itself. Students return to their training, chatter rises, curses await, but this time, there’s a new undercurrent to the routine chaos. It's a quiet kind of awe, a shared glance between students, a barely concealed grin here and there. They’ve seen behind the curtain now. The man they’d thought was an untouchable, untamable force of nature had someone who could rein him in with a single look. Someone who didn’t just handle their sensei, but matched him - even loved him with an ease that defied expectation.

As the students scatter across the training grounds, wooden swords clashing and laughter echoing under the sky, you settle on a bench at the edge of the field, a journal in your lap, pen tapping idly at the margin. Not taking notes yet, just watching. Gojo glances back once from where he’s guiding Yuuji through a sloppy stance, flashing you a wink so quick you might’ve missed it if you hadn’t been waiting for it. You roll your eyes affectionately and return the gesture with a two-fingered salute. He beams like he did when you were teenagers, with the same goofy grin and sparkle in his eye.

Beside him, Yuuji watches the exchange with starry-eyed awe. “That was so smooth,” he whispers to Megumi.

Megumi doesn't look up. “It was not.”

Nobara sighs beside them, hands on her hips. Dreamily, she says, “I hope someone loves me enough one day to yell at me over soy sauce.”

Yuuji raises a finger. “Um... you yell at us over soy sauce.”

“That’s different!” she huffs.

“Is it?”

Gojo laughs loud enough to interrupt the bickering, and you lean back, letting the sun kiss your skin, the page in your journal still blank but your heart full.

This is what home looks like: curse-worn and imperfect, loud and ridiculous, stubborn and strange.

You wouldn’t trade it for anything.

-----

i love these kind of stories and i've had this in my drafts since AUGUST 7th bro so here you go lovelies <3 enjoY!

423 notes · View notes

hoshigray · 11 months ago

Text

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: based on this ask; enjoy, kuna gremlins <333

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: deliquent! Sukuna x student body president + fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern setting; Sukuna and you are college seniors - fingering (f! receiving) - degradation (dumbass, slut, whore) - oral (m! receiving) - face + throat fucking - anal (f! receiving) - backshots + missionary positions - impact play (spanking) - clitoral play (swiping and pinching) - implied multiple orgasms - pet names (brat, doll, good girl, pet, princess) - Sukuna [NOT] being helpful :33 - mention of spit/drool.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.4k

You were typing away on your laptop with the most irritable expression, eyebrows trenched together, and your vexed exhale. And you throw your head back with a groan. “Ughhh, I’m so tired…”

“You’ve been saying that for the past three hours.”

“And you’ve been sitting on my bed for just as long, so get out!”

Toying you was Sukuna’s favorite pastime; nothing gives him more satisfaction than making you irritated with him. It’s why he’s bothering you in your apartment, to your most enormous dismay.

Dealing with Sukuna's irritating, taxing, and bothersome nature was never something you had the time or patience for. Today, in particular, you felt the weight of his presence as you sighed heavily and turned back to your laptop, trying to ignore him.

Like the menace he is, Sukuna’s ego thrives on getting on your nerves. Ergo, he surprised you by showing up in front of your apartment door unannounced and waltzing inside uninvited, already adding more pressure onto your Saturday afternoon meant to deal with assignments and student body work of your own.

Now, you’re sharing the comfort of your home with the unrivaled arrogant fuck in your life! And he shows no interest in leaving—of course, he wouldn’t, fucking bastard—making himself at home and invading your personal space like boundaries be damned. So here he is, lying on his side on your puffy, comfortable bed, scrolling through his phone while periodically sneaking glances at you as the president was answering emails and inputting information into spreadsheets.

As the hours passed, your exasperation became more and more apparent; the work seemed neverending, your brain one email and class discussion away from shutting down and fainting to your carpet. And that’s something you don’t want to happen with company around—especially him in your bedroom. God, can this day get any worse? You groaned into your hands as if shielding yourself from the workload would make it all disappear.

Maroon eyes flicker to your slouched frame once more with a lifted brow. For someone who’d be having fun lounging in your place as he sees fit, it doesn’t seem fun with you all stressed with something other than him. If he heard you sigh one more time, Sukuna might take that laptop and throw it out your balcony—which might be hilarious to see your reaction, yet today wasn’t a day he’d like to know if you’d skin him alive, at least not today. You were stressed, and seeing you stressed made him stressed, too.

And then—click!—like a flipped switch, an idea pops inside his mind, and a grin forms as he lifts himself off your memory from the pillow. Black socks meet your carpet, stealthy steps stride him closer and closer to your distrait atmosphere, and you squeak when his cold hands touch the exposed shoulders of your ribbed tank top.

You relax in seconds, but the annoyance slips into your tone. “Cut it out, Ryōmen; can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Busy enough that you forgot about your guest?” He scoffs while you click your tongue. “You look like shit.”

“I feel like shit, and you being here doesn’t make it any easier.”

“Mmm,” your remark doesn’t faze him, putting his chin atop your head. “Is all this due by today?”

You’re too drained to bother whacking him off you, so you settle with another exhale. “Not all, but I still got a good chunk I want to get over and not deal with tomorrow and Monday.”

Another hum, his fingers taunting your skin with rubbed circles. “Want me to help?”

Finally, you move your head to look up at him. Confused, you ask, “How in the world would you help me with this stuff?”

“Not with that shit, fuck that,” you figured as much; your hopes weren’t even up to begin with. “I’m talkin’ helping you. You seem tense, and I could help ease you up a bit.”

You weren’t buying it, a furrowed brow rises. “You? Easing my stress?” You scoffed when he shrugged. “Oh fuck off, what could you possibly do to help? Don’t act like you’re worried about my well-being.”

“Who said I was worried? Don’t put words in my mouth.” You suck your teeth and remove your gaze from him; however, Sukuna brings you back to him with a pull to the chin. “And I can think of many ways to help you, prez. Just sit back, relax, and break from the stress.”

“You are one of the–if not THE main thing–stressing me out,” you retort with eyes that don’t budge. “So I don’t see why I should listen to you, all offense.” His fingers glide across your skin to cup and squeeze your cheeks, and–you can’t lie–it made you hitch your breath.

“Because you know I’m not one to make offers like this,” his crimson eyes were boring into yours, and you had to gulp. “Besides, I’m bored as hell watching you work away on your work and—“

“Blame yourself; you’re the one inviting yourself to places without per—“

“AND,” he emphasizes; he hates when you interrupt him. “If I were you, I’d outta reconsider as I’m not one to repeat favors. So, what’s it gonna be: go back and stress yourself to death or have some fun with me for a bit?”

His words replay briefly, chewing the inside of your cheek as your conscience teeters and totters on which decision to make. You’re not stupid; you know he has something up his sleeve because it’s not like him to do things all semi-nice without a catch. You could never leave your guard down with him; he is a dangerous and pretentious man.

Yet simultaneously, you don’t know how long you can sit at your desk and CC another email before you have a mental breakdown. Perhaps you could use a break or two; it’s not like much of the stuff was due today, and steamrolling your way through would cause more than good to your exhausted body.

“…Fine,” you finally swat his hands off you before standing out of your chair. “But don’t take long; I’ve got work to finish.”

However, it was those words that would have you backtracking because, unbeknownst to you, Sukuna already has plans of his own.

“—Khhh! Hahhh, shtop...! I’m sensit've down th—“

“I know that, dumbass. Why else would I be touching it?”

You were stripped of your bottoms that lay lifeless on the carpeted floor, your bare legs and lower regions displayed for Sukuna to see. Lying on your back, you squirm as he toys with your cunt that’s been aching for about a few minutes now, stuffing his middle and ring finger inside you to evoke your noisy self.

His digits stretch your entrance with every push, his fingertips leaving risky scrapes on your silky texture. The noises coming from down below were so raunchy to the ear, making you scrunch with every squelch of your come coating his ravaging fingers. Especially when the knuckle of his thumb would brush against your clitoris? How could you not cry at the feeling, even when he’s chasing you down to come a second time?

It’s embarrassing enough that this man has seen your body naked before. Yet, doing all these naughty things with him in your apartment — in your bedroom! — utterly changed the equation. Your legs jerk to close them, but that doesn’t halt Sukuna, who’s so focused on hearing you squeak at his touch no matter what.

“Mmmaah! ‘Ryo, stop it; I already cameee…!”

“Keh, you think one time is enough?” God, he’s such an asshole, snickering at you like this while pressing his forehead on yours. The tattoed man whispers, “You’ll cum however many times I want you cum, got that, princess? The hell did you think this was…”

You bastard…! You choke on a sob when the pace of his fingers increases, and the graze on your inner walls becomes frequent and keen. Your nerves are too sensitive from the climax prior as he didn’t let you properly rest, so you arch as the acute sensation becomes more and more unavoidable.

“Ohhhfuuckk, fuuck, ‘Ryo, please…” he licks and kisses your forehead at the mention of his last name. “God! I’m gonna cumm!”

“You better,” he chews on your cheek, his teeth making you gasp and twitch around his digits. “Make a real big mess for me, you slut.”

And don’t think it’s just his fingers you need to worry about.

“…What does this have to do with my stress?”

“Shit, got your mind off of work, didn’t it?” He sneers. “Now, shut up and suck me off.”

With a reluctant pout, you accept the tip of Sukuna’s cock inside your mouth, your tongue instantly going to work like it’s supposed to. Cheeks hollow and suck in every inch of him, the girth busying your mouth until it brushes your uvula, reminding yourself to breathe in a steady rhythm before you start choking and coughing up a storm.

You fail to see how a blowjob is meant to help you; it seems more like something to satisfy Sukuna rather than you. Honestly, that shouldn’t be surprising for the bastard to just put your working mindset on something other than actually working. Just thinking about it makes you pissed off a bit more. Whatever, you lick the crown of his glans, noticing the subtle buck of his thighs. I guess any kind of break is better than no break…

Sukuna places a hand on your head when you kiss from the underside down to his scrotum, licking and sucking the skin of his balls. “Mmfff, fuck, that’s good,” he kudos, throwing his head back at you and sucking one ball into your mouth. The feel of your tongue traveling around its skin felt euphoric. “Hahhh, Christ, doin’ so well, pet.”

You let go of his testicle, licking up back to his glans, and suck him in with a hum. Every inch of his length is swallowed till the hilt, reaching to the crevice of your throat and massaging the velvety walls. Once you begin to bob your head, that’s when you can feel yourself relax bit by bit, his ballsack kneaded by one hand as you move to and fro.

“There ya go, there ya go,” for some reason, his coaxes egg you on to keep going, especially with his hand squeezing your cheeks. “Keep going….Ahhh, shiiiit, hold on, hold on,” he stops you quickly, placing both his hands on your head; oh, here he goes. You brace yourself for him as he ruts into your face, his dick burrowing itself into your mouth and throat goes quicker, your saliva dripping down to his balls which smack onto your chin. “—Fffshiiit, yeahh, just like that; move that tongue just like that…Good girl.”

Unbelievable, you roll your eyes at his pleasure, yet your tongue continues to glide around the bottom of his shaft as your mouth is being used like a toy. At least now that he’s doing the work, you can allow your jaw to relax as your face is fucked till his pubes brush your nose.

“Enjoyin’ yourself, prez?” Your peer up with hooded eyes, and he chuckles. “Don’t thank me yet; we’re barely done here.”

And he meant every word of that.

“—Ahhhaa, ohJesusss, ‘Ryooo, shtooop!!”

“—Mmph! Not when you’re gripping on me like a whore, brat.”

With your back to him and butt propped up, Sukuna fucks your ass like no tomorrow. Pistoning his cock into your puckered hole so harshly and fast that you’re sure the wind is knocked right out of you with every movement. You’re forced to submit to him and accept his dominance like always, howling at the graze of his tip, poking your inner walls.

And it’s not like you can grip your sheets for support; the bastard has your wrists restrained with one hand behind your back, leaving you helpless to defend yourself. Drool escapes puffy lips and stains the bedsheets beneath you, and your mind is too far gone to think straight, too dizzy with what’s happening around you – or rather in you.

“Ohoooo, ohmyGo—Nmmm!!” Oh yeah, and there’s this fucker smacking your ass as he so pleases. The sting on your skin only furthers the growing daze. “It huuurtss..!”

“Aww, does it, princess?” Sukuna bends down to speak to your ear, and you clamp onto his length with how close he is. “It hurts, huh?” He patronizes you, acting like he cares as he grinds his pelvis to your buttcheeks. You whimper; the sensation of his dick writhing inside your rear channel makes your cunt compress onto nothing. Another smack to your ass causes you to jerk from the pain. “But you act like you’re feeling so good.”

“Mmmm! Wh..Who told you to speak for me—Eeeee!!” The snaps of his hips are too much; you feel as though you could break.

“No one tells me anything, pet,” his breath feels hot to your ear, like the tongue that licks your helix. “Don’t forget that…Haiishh…! So fucking tight…”

More pounds to your butt continue to rock you, shrieks and squeals flying out of your system as the pleasure from your anus is getting harder to avoid by the second. Along with the sporadic pace, Sukuna plunges into you balls deep, having his length churn your insides in ways you’d never thought to fathom. And when the jerk sneaks a hand down to swipe your clitoris, it’s all downhill from there.

“—Ohooo!! Hahaaa, ‘Kunaaa, stop, don’t tease—Tahhh!!” You plea, but your teeth clench at the pinch of your bud. It’s no use; you can’t fight it anymore. “Sukunaa…!”

When your orgasm hits you once more, your throat releases a scream past your judgment. Sukuna finally lets go of your wrists, and you immediately grip through the shocks coursing through your quivering figure. He hisses, his hips now going slower as you flutter on him. “Mhmm, yeah, let it all out,” he commands in purrs.

Your body calms down, trembles subsiding. However, you try to fight the shakes to stand on your knees. “‘Kuna, please, enough,” you remove his member from you. “I gotta…get back to wo—H-Hey!”

“Oh, no, you don’t.” You were flipped to your back, his hands spreading your legs for him to insert his shaft back inside you. You moan when he swipes your clit and sucks on your nipple. “Like I said, we’re not done yet. So be a doll and keep that mouth shut; not a single word about your work.”

Oh, fuck you Ryōmen Sukuna!! It would’ve been best if you had never given him the chance actually to help you. But there is no point regretting it now; no choice but to see it all through.

2K notes · View notes