𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐋𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐀𝐑 𔘓 𝑯𝑬𝑰𝑨𝑵!𝓡.𝑺𝑼𝑲𝑼𝑵𝑨

𝓒𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 · 𝟏𝟖+ 𝒎𝒅𝒏𝒊 · ꒰ 𝒇. 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ⋮⋮ 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒎!𝒔𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒂 ⋮⋮ mentions of weapons (knife) ⋮⋮ reader at one point tries to take his life ⋮⋮ mention of blood ⋮⋮ 𝒗𝒊𝒓𝒈𝒊𝒏 reader ⋮⋮ p in v ⋮⋮ his two cks mentioned ⋮⋮ cervix kissing ⋮⋮ tummy bulges ⋮⋮ cum-flated ⋮⋮ c-pied ⋮⋮ 𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒍 f. rec ⋮⋮ he eats you out under a pear tree ⋮⋮ bathtub 𝒔𝒆𝒙 ⋮⋮ dp ⋮⋮ nipple play ⋮⋮ mentions of pregnancy ꒱

The Heian era stretched long and bloody under skies that never quite cleared of smoke. Villages burned not for conquest alone, but because Ryomen Sukuna found the sight of flames prettier than the thatched roofs they devoured.

He moved like calamity given legs, four arms thick with corded muscle, tattoos crawling black across scarlet skin, eyes the color of fresh-spilled blood and just as hungry. They called him the King of Curses long before any true cursed spirit bore the name; humans feared him the way prey fears the open mouth of a tiger, and with good reason.

He slaughtered priests mid-chant, crushed shrine maidens beneath his geta, left offering bowls overturned and spilling rice across blood-slicked tatami. Faith irritated him. Devotion irritated him more. It was the only thing that ever made him pause long enough to really look at someone.

You were different in the way a single unbroken flower is different in a field turned to ash.

Ryoumen Sukuna

Long Fics (25k words & up)

Defiance | wc: 106k (complete)

Controller | wc: 89k (hiatus)

Not Just Anybody | wc: 54.6k (DELETED)

Short Fics (25k words & under)

The Parasite | wc: 19.8k (complete)

Hesitance | wc: 23.3k (complete)

Husband!Sukuna One Shot + Drabble Series (complete)

Ceaseless | wc: 22.1k (complete)

Everlong | wc: 15.1k (coming back on kinktober)

your life as a side character | wc: 20k (on-going)

Me and The Devil | wc: 8.3k (hiatus)

Motion | (hiatus)

missing pieces | wc: 15k

silent lovers | wc: 8.8k

but i'm into it | wc: 5.6k (complete)

No Rest for the Wicked | wc: 10k (complete)

Bound | wc: 8k (complete)

Drabbles & Imagines

All rights reserved © 2026 yenayaps. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform

dividers by @cafekitsune

[SOLVED] | nerdjo x reader

pairing: Gojo Satoru x reader

warnings: 18+ (mdni!!), explicit sexual content, afab!reader, modern AU, roommate AU, nerdjo, incel!gojo, virgin!gojo, oral (m and f receiving), piv, creampie, light degradation, praise kink, cum in hair, cum eating, cum-drunk, pussy-drunk, cock rings, fleshlights, improper use of hair tie, improper use of yogurt (accidentally ??), oil and fluids everywhere, it’s a bit disgusting, light choking, groping, big time copium from reader, secondhand embarrassment you’d die, reddit, incel stuff, crack treated seriously, fluff, smut, slow burn but the burn is just pure cringe

word count: 17k

The first mistake you made was using Reddit to find a roommate. Should’ve been a red flag, really. The second was agreeing to meet the guy in person.

You walked into the coffee shop, scanning the midday crowd for someone who matched the description — twenty-something, remote-employed, appreciates a quiet living environment. You were expecting a tired grad student, maybe. Or some tech guy in a Patagonia fleece. Something like that.

Instead, you found a gorgeous, gorgeous looking man. And you were confident it was him, since there were exactly two men present — him, and some grandpa having his afternoon caffeine fix.

And the guy was, objectively and objectifyingly speaking, probably the prettiest guy you had ever laid your eyes on. Way too tall, way too broad, the messy hair and the cute glasses adding the je ne sais quoi of the hot nerd aesthetic you were simply too weak for. Even hunched over his phone like that, he looked aggressively cute. But, let’s be honest, you weren't exactly against a cheeky roommates-to-lovers situation, if you catch my drift.

# CASANOVA !

I KNOW YOU WANT ME, SO WHY WON’T YOU ACT LIKE IT ?

cast: fratjo (‘sato’ gojo) ◞ nerdjo (‘toru’ gojo) + frat! jjk men (‘sigma-chi’) : geto ◞ toji ◞ sukuna ◞ nanami 𓏲 gallery here !

NICE GUY TACTICS #1: STOP TALKING, START LISTENING !

“maybe if you listened to y/n as much as you spoke, she’d finally give you a chance.”

ΣX

at a desk behind a bookcase somewhere in birge-carnegie library, nanami kento has a book in his hands & sato gojo’s voice in his ears.

“—rich, handsome, charismatic, compassionate,” sato counts the words on his fingers. “i’m all these things and y/n still rejected me! can you believe it, kenny?”

nanami kento does not give a fuck.

4PM thursday means a box of timbits & the latest volume of nanami’s new favorite BL manhwa. he’s trying to root for cirrus as he pursues his love interest, skylar, but sato gojo’s whining in his ears makes concentrating very, very difficult. nanami snaps his book shut.

“first of all, can you please sit like a child of God?”

across from him, sato gojo is all loose limbs & no decorum; legs open & spread over the mahogany table as he leans back just enough to rock in the wooden chair. he has his arms folded behind his head but when kento snaps, he sits up. his lips are tugged in a stubborn, trying-to-be-cute frown:

“kento,” sato pouts. “help me.”

nanami kento drags a palm over his face. his collar feels tight on his neck & his fingers twitch over his book but sato has his lips pouting & lashes fluttering across from him. if helping out means sato will leave him alone to focus on reading lost in the cloud, who is he to refuse?

sato gojo finds you somewhere on the second floor.

ⵌ XO, EX HOE ! ft. fratkuna

AITA FOR SABOTAGING MY EX-GF’S NEW RELATIONSHIP ?

cast: nerdjo (‘toru’ gojo) + frat! jjk men (‘sigma chi’) : fratjo (‘sato’ gojo) ◞ geto ◞ toji ◞ sukuna ◞ nanami 𓏲 gallery here !

EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #1: GET YOUR GIRL BACK !

‘sabotaging your ex girlfriend’s new relationship to get her back? this can’t be a good idea.’

ΣΧ “‘high value woman’ but your new man’s a misogynist?!”

ryomen sukuna’s time of irritation is approximately 9:17 PM.

toru gojo’s bedroom floor is velvet carpet with half-empty beer bottles rotting on the rug. his center table is littered with poker cards & sato’s candy wrappers, and geto suguru & sato gojo are avoiding eye contact so they don’t burst out in laughter as sukuna glares daggers at toru’s screen.

toru’s hands shake under sukuna’s glare but he holds the phone steady. the instagram post on screen is a slap to sukuna’s face.

HOT NEW CAMPUS COUPLE : FOOTBALL CAPTAIN NAOYA ZENIN & Y/N L/N !

and the photo is you. swollen lips & pretty gaze & a dress so short it makes sukuna’s jaw ache—but not as much as naoya’s arm around you does. beside you toji’s cousin naoya zenin is there, grin cocky, eyes glinting in the camera light and arm around your waist because his fugly ass doesn’t know you like to be held around the hips instead. sukuna’s jaw ticks.

Sukuna had a weird way with words. Like seriously.

Maybe if he didn’t stare at you so intensely or give you not-so-ordinary gifts, would you look at him properly—but my goodness.

What’s up with this man? Or beast should I say . . .

At your feet lay his latest offering: a beautifully carved jade hairpin, something seemingly sharpened to needle-like points capable of channeling cursed energy.

The previous owner’s faint aura still clung to it—a rival clan’s prized heirloom, no doubt taken by force.

Or just sheer power difference, either way, it was in his hands now.

A small silk pouch beside it held what looked suspiciously like dried cursed flesh, preserved as some macabre delicacy.

“Wear it,” Sukuna commanded, lips curling into a cocky smirk. “Or eat it. Either way, you’ll carry a piece of my conquest with you. Most would beg for such favor.”

You looked at the offerings with a cocked brow, slightly taken aback by the forwardness he brought to your temple steps.

With crossed arms, you planted your feet firmly on the floor despite the way your pulse was beating quite hard. Your face was already betraying you with that familiar warmth—but you weren’t about to roll over like some common court lady.

“Ryomen…pardon me, but I refuse,” you said with a calm smile, tilting your chin up to meet all four of those eyes head-on.

Some might call you stubborn, or even foolish, for daring to reject such gifts from a god, someone capable of doing anything to his liking.

But you just cannot accept this behavior—not if you want him where you need him.

“I’m not a common lady who falls over anything thrown in her direction. I appreciate it, but…I certainly won’t accept whatever…that is.” You nudged the silk pouch with the toe of your sandal, wrinkling your nose.

“It smells like death, and it’s wilting my plants by its presence alone. Take it back.”

He let out a mocking laugh that vibrated through the wooden beams overhead, leaning forward on his massive frame until his face was far too close.

That stare—and god those eyes—pinned you in place, intense and never unyielding, like he was picking apart every penny of defiance in your expression. “You dare refuse a king’s gift, little fox? Most women would carve out their own hearts for a scrap of my attention.”

You huffed, swatting lightly at the clawed hand that reached for your chin. It was a soft swat, more of a playful push than real rejection, but it made your point.

“And most kings don’t need to bribe people with stolen trinkets and… preserved meat? to get my praise. If you want me to look at you properly, try something subtle for once. Like… I don’t know, a poem that doesn’t involve carving people or burning villages.”

Sukuna’s attitude didn’t fade.

If anything, he frowned, but there was a glint in his eyes—amused, maybe fond in the most odd way.

He butted heads with you like this every time he planted himself on your territory, growling and posturing, yet… he always yielded just enough.

Never fully, of course, as that wasn’t his nature. But here he was, retracting the pouch with one of his lower arms and setting it aside instead of forcing it down your throat like he secretly wishes he could.

“Subtle, you say…” he echoed, tasting the word like it was foreign and mildly insulting. “You test my patience, woman. Fine. No flesh, I suppose.”

He plucked the jade hairpin from the floor with surprising delicacy for such large hands, twirling it between his fingers before holding it out again. “But wear this. It suits your being. Refuse, and I’ll simply pin it in myself—while you squirm and complain the whole time.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, stubborn to the core, but the way he said it, sounding so sure of it, made something you couldn't put a stamp on flutter in your chest despite yourself. He was able to behave. Sort of. In his own way.

The beast actually compromised, even if it came wrapped in that cocky arrogance he liked to carry around all day.

“Oh, well…only because you asked so sweetly, how could I refuse?” you muttered sarcastically, tapping your chin, taking the hairpin, and sliding it into your hair with a careful slowness, making sure he watched every second.

Your fingers brushed the sharpened points, feeling the faint pings of cursed energy. It was beautiful, having its fair share of danger if not careful. Just like you. “There. Are you satisfied now? Or do you have another ‘offering’ lined up to make me question your loyalty?”

Sukuna’s eyes darkened with satisfaction, one of his lower arms coming up to brush a stray lock of your hair behind your ear—careful, almost reverent, even as his voice stayed rough and commanding as ever.

“You look at me now, don’t you? Defiant woman. Good. I enjoy these fangs you bare … almost as much as I’ll enjoy breaking you out of them,” He paused, then added with a head tilt to the side, “Or perhaps I won’t. Your stubbornness entertains me more than any conquest.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the smile tugging at your lips.

Seriously…What was up with this man? Or beast. Whatever he was, he had you butting heads right back every time… and somehow, you didn’t entirely mind.

a/n - I was actually kicking my feet writing this he’s so yummyrnjccknsks

COWBOY TOJIII

Hello another toji art I promise next one is gojo or geto or maybe them both I don’t know yet!!

sugar and spice (and something not-so-nice)

synopsis: you were paid to pick up after Satoru's messes. toji was paid to put a bullet in him. but doing his job is a lot more difficult when the lines between personal and professional get blurred. just how far will he go to get the job done without losing you too?

pairing: hitman!toji x f!reader

wc: 10.6k

content: smut, light angst, YANDERE TOJI, he's a hitman so murder lol, stalking, obsession, jealousy, oblivious reader, falling for each other, he's lowk crazy lol but he is hot!!, mentions of drinking, flirting, he wants us bad, semi-public sex, fingering in a bar bathroom, making out, shower sex, light spanking, pulling out, toji is a problem solver lmfao, comfort

a/n: toji art is by @ackshuallyvalerie !! this was a commission for the lovely @chewiebee

For a pretty penny, he could put a bullet in anyone.

Toji had been doing it long enough now that pulling the trigger didn’t bother him. The things that did were dulled with booze, gambling whatever he was given and riding on the high until he crashed and couldn’t afford shit anymore. 

Then he did it all again. And again. And again.

“This one is-” Shiu started, and the hesitation in his voice irritated the shit out of him. Like he couldn’t fucking handle the same job he’d been doing for years. 

“How much?” Toji interrupted, bringing a lukewarm beer to his lips, watching some boxing game on the bar’s tv. The sound was muted, but it wasn’t like anyone would be able to hear it over the rumble of drunken girls giggling and grown men arguing over which athlete was better. 

Shiu slid over the contract, tapping over the amount being offered. 

It was more than his past six jobs combined. 

“I’m in.”  

Shiu made a weak attempt to try and talk him out of it. Tell him he’d end up in jail at best, or buried six feet under at worst. That the target was high profile. 

Toji didn’t care who it was a death sentence for. It wasn’t like there was much worth left in living anyway. 

Flipping through the file, headshots of some smarmy-looking CEO, the kind of guy who made millions in a day just by existing, probably spending more time spinning around in his office chair than actually doing a shred of the work he was paid for. Blessed from the time he was born to be rich and beautiful, rolling around in dollar bills and women with big tits. 

Satoru Gojo had never known a single day of struggle. Of suffering. 

Honestly, he’d probably do the job even if he wasn’t being paid for it just to see the look on his face when the gun went off. Watch the life drain from him out and stain his custom-made suit. 

He spent a few days doing research he hated. Copying down schedules and figuring out the holes in his security system. When he worked, who he spent time with, where he liked to frequent. 

To find the answer to the question: how did a man who thought he was untouchable like to live? 

Lavishly. 

He went to the nicest gym in the city, the kind that probably cost more than Toji's rent did every month. Followed it up with treat shops, always leaving with a bag of desserts with enough sugar to give him cavities. No trips to the dentist though. 

But the most interesting part of his routine was one that hadn’t been in any of the notes he was given. Not a blip on anyone’s radar, apparently. 

You. 

HANGING OUT TO DRY

fratboy!gojo x f!reader

notes: I have seen sooooo many ideas and tiktoks about the trope of reader being a bet & it always hurts so good! wanted to try it out and ofc it had to be with fratboy gojo >:)))

warnings: angst obvi hehehe, drinking, cursing, reader is super sweet and a bet obvi, no comfort or happy ending (yet? who knows), mentions of vomiting but doesn’t, mentions of blood, reader is never someone’s first choice:(( ummmm, gojo is an asshole ofc

Credit to @uzmacchiato for the divider!!

Satoru knew he should've said no in the beginning, knew it wasn't worth it just to impress his friends- his stupid frat brothers who never took anything seriously. Never thought about the consequences of their actions.

Buuut the idea of the bet was just too good to turn down.

The effort, the build up, the dedication- it would all come together so perfectly, especially with you as the main star. With you being you, you were doomed from the start before the bet could even fully take shape.

Sweet little you. Shouldn't you have known better?

Going around, shamelessly wearing your heart on your sleeve, always spreading kindness on the darkest of days, looking and talking to people as if they genuinely mattered- and maybe to you, they actually did, even when they couldn't have cared less about returning the favor. Not that you ever expected anything in return.

And most importantly of it all? You were so understanding. Far too understanding for your own good. The debilitating type that had rooted itself early on as some sort of lousy defense mechanism and eventually morphed into something self destructive. Had you subconsciously constructing and molding subpar excuses to justify someone's behavior, especially when it was directed towards you.

Always being an overly empathetic thing, so willing to sacrifice and minimize your own feelings when it came to others, always softening their blow.

Were you desperate or something to get people to stay? So desperate that you had unintentionally turned yourself into a doormat that people could stomp all over?

Anybody could've told you that it was idiotic to try and see everyone at face value, to so naively believe the words people told you. But you could've argued the opposite.

It wasn't naivety. It was you, sweet and trusting you, determined to not let your past heartbreak change the way you viewed others, to not let it bias you, scare you, or haunt you. Despite having been constantly hurt, you refused to allow your past experiences make you question and doubt every. single. new. relationship.

Always trying to see the good in people.

It would have turned out great, perfectly actually. You had played your part with flying colors, just as expected, putting on the most spectacular, albeit unknown, performance. And Satoru? Well.

Things would have turned out great.

If he hadn't started falling in love with you.

But the show must go on.

fallin’ for ya | atsumu x reader

words: 4.0k | pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3

cw: fluff

──────₊°₊·♡⋆⑅˚₊──────

there was nothing in this world you hated more than a cocky man. the deep hatred you felt towards them was almost alarming.

you hated how arrogant they were. how they were so quick to put down and belittle anyone who they felt didn’t live up to their over-the-top standards.

atsumu miya was a perfect example of this, so you always made sure to stay far, far away from him. that was, until the two of you were placed next to each other in the same class your second year of high school.

you tried your best to ignore the way he would interrupt class to tell some lame joke. or the way he would snicker when someone got an answer wrong.

due to his objectively good looks and popularity from being a star player on your school's volleyball team, everyone found him amusing. you, however, did not.

what you hadn’t yet realized was that atsumu had taken a liking to you. it was the first time a girl had such close proximity to him, only to ignore his presence entirely.

this intrigued him, your plan to utterly ignore his existence slowly falling apart as he got closer to you.

but something you also hadn’t realized, was none of it was atsumu’s doing. it was all you.

and it all started the day you two got assigned cleaning duty together.

DAY ONE

you hated when it was your turn for cleaning duty, partly because you hated cleaning, but mainly because you were almost always paired up with atsumu miya.

he was at the back of the classroom, mumbling profanities under his breath as he picked up the scrap pieces of paper littered on the ground from his classmates.

you were cleaning off the chalkboard with math equations written on it. math wasn’t your strong suit, so the feeling of dragging the eraser over the green board, the white lettering vanishing underneath, was more than satisfying.

you find yourself having a hard time reaching the top of the chalkboard due to its large size. you jump up on your tiptoes, using your full wingspan to try and erase the chalk, but to no avail.

“ya need a hand?” you hear the agitating voice from behind you say.

“nope,” you respond. the last thing you needed was help from him, of all people.

he pauses for a moment before speaking again. “are ya sure? cause to me it looks like yer struggling.”

this time you don’t respond, letting the irritated sigh that leaves your throat speak for you. sure, you knew you wouldn’t be able to properly clean the chalkboard all on your own; in fact, it would be more than convenient for someone of his height to help you out.

but there was no way you were going to allow atsumu to assist you. you knew you wouldn’t hear the end of it from him if you did.

the room falls silent for a second before the sound of atsumu’s footsteps grows closer until he’s now standing beside you. he grabs the extra eraser resting on the base of the chalkboard, reaching up to the area you couldn’t access and wiping away the chalk with ease.

once he’s done, he sets the eraser down, looking at you with that same cocky smile he always wore on his face. you stare at him, dumbfounded. this boy really had nothing but the audacity, you thought to yourself.

you sigh in defeat, rolling your eyes as you grab the windex spray and cloth to clean the windows. “i don’t need your help, so just go back to what you were doing,” you bite at him.

“ouch,” he says, throwing a hand over his heart as if he’d been wounded. “y’know, it’s okay to ask for help sometimes, y/n.”

you hated the way your name sounded rolling off his tongue. you could tell he was attempting to win you over by softening the tone of his voice. though you couldn’t deny it. you saw exactly why atsumu had his own personal fan club at this school. but you were smarter than that.

“not from the likes of you i don’t,” you mumble under your breath, but he hears you.

“what’s so bad about me?” he asks defensively. you focus on your task at hand, ignoring the boy behind you as he mutters something before continuing the process of cleaning the floor.

atsumu couldn’t put his finger on why you reacted this way towards him. though you guys were seat partners, it wasn’t like he bothered you or anything, let alone talked to you at all. your feelings towards him were a mystery to him, and a curious boy like him wanted to get to the bottom of it.

DAY SEVEN

surprised would be an understatement to describe how atsumu felt seeing you standing out front of his house. when his twin brother alerted him that he would be having company over, you weren’t exactly who he had in mind.

he stands there for a moment, too stunned to speak. “are you gonna let me in?” you say, staring at him with a puzzled expression. surely osamu told him you were coming over, you thought.

“no!” you furrow your eyebrows at him. he clears his throat, seemingly tripping over his words. “i mean…what ‘re ya doing here?”

before you can respond, osamu appears behind him. “that’s for me to worry about,” he says, smacking him in the back of the head with a rolled-up work packet.

“oi, quit hittin’ me!” atsumu exclaims, clutching the back of his head. the two boys begin bickering, allowing you to squeeze past them and into the home discreetly.

you were there for a simple history tutoring session which osamu had agreed to help you with. you had befriended osamu during your first year, prior to you knowledge of his brothers existence.

if you were being completely honest, the two weren’t too far off from each other. after all, they were twins. but osamu was less explosive, making him the more tolerable one.

“oi.” osamu catches your attention, you turn to him. “you can get set up in the living room, i just need to grab my things.” you shoot him a quick ‘ok’, paying little mind to the blond boy next to him who just stood there, staring at you.

you travel further into the house, examining the various family photos that were plastered on the walls as you entered the seating area. you plop down on the floor, tossing your bag down and unzipping it to pull out your things.

you hear one pair of footsteps leading up the stairs and another creaking on the floorboards just a few feet away from you.

“oi.” you tune out his voice. you were already stressed thinking about your failing grade in history and the last thing you needed was an added stressor.

“oi,” he says again, a bit louder this time. you whip your head around to him, visibly irate by his presence.

atsumu stood there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed to his chest, staring at you. you hated this habit of his. you figured ignoring him would make you almost invisible to him, but it seemed to do the complete opposite.

his face scrunches up upon seeing yours. “what’s yer problem with me? you realize yer in my house, right?” you sigh, not exactly sure how to argue him. i mean, he’s not wrong, you thought.

“i don’t have a problem with you,” you respond dishonestly, hoping it would get him to leave you alone. you flip through your history packet, skimming over the lesson to prepare yourself for what was to come from this tutoring session.

“yeah ya do. it’s so obvious.” you turn the page, a little more aggressively than you intended.

“i do not. i’d just prefer to focus on my work right now please and thank you,” you say, failing to hide the sarcasm in your tone.

“y’know…” he starts up again, causing you to roll your eyes. was there anything that got him to stop talking, you thought to yourself.

atsumu trails into the kitchen, grabbing a pot from one of the cupboards and filling it with water. “you’ve got somethin’ interestin’ about ya, y/n,” he finished. your eyebrows quirk up in confusion, lifting your head from the packet you were flipping through.

“how?” your voice was gentler than the usual brash tone you used with him, catching atsumu by surprise.

a puff of air passes through his nose, amused by your reaction. “trust me, i can see right through that tough girl act ya put up.” you sit there in silence, listening to what he has to say.

the sound of the water running stops, followed by the gentle clanging of the pot on the stovetop. “that whole ‘the world was hard on me so now i have to be hard on everyone else’ attitude ya have, it’ll only get ya so far.”

you sit there, unable to speak. not because he was racking your nerves, but because he was partially right. you’ve had your guard up for so long that you hadn’t even noticed, so how could he see through you so clearly?

atsumu stares at the back of your head waiting for one of your snarky responses, but it never comes. he clears his throat. “shit. ‘m sorry, i didn’t-” his voice is cut off by the sound of heavy footsteps descending the wooden stairs.

“got it,” osamu says, holding up his history textbook. he notices the tension in the air, his eyes darting between you and atsumu.

“am i interruptin’ somethin’?” you whip your head around, flashing him a friendly smile to mask the utter bewilderment on your face.

“nope,” you say as atsumu shakes his head. you can feel his eyes burning the side of her face, but you don’t look at him. afraid that he might see through the fake smile you were wearing.

“alright then.” osamu steps into the living room, taking a seat across from you at the coffee table.

atsumu leaves the room without another word and you let out the breath of air you weren’t aware you were holding in.

“you okay?” osamu asks, worried and confused. you give him a small nod, turning your attention to the packet in front of you. “i think we should start with lesson five, it looks the shortest.”

DAY EIGHT

the next day, you dreaded going to school. atsumu’s words rang through your head all through the night, the accuracy of his words was the scariest part.

you trudge through the halls of your school. thankfully, you were always the first person to class, giving you a few minutes to catch up on lost sleep. you slide the door to your classroom open, your body almost going into shock when you see a certain blond-haired boy already there.

why did he decide to show up early today, of all days? it was already a pain that you had to sit next to him, and now he was pulling these stunts?

the sound of the door causes his head to pop up, flashing you a smug smile upon seeing you. you roll your eyes and sigh in defeat, taking your seat next to him. you immediately put your head down, turning to face the window so his face wasn’t in your line of view.

“well hello to ya too.” you try your best to block out the sound of his voice, but failing to do so. “looks like someone didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“yeah. so do you mind being quiet?” you mumble into the sleeve of your uniform blazer. he seems to have listened for a moment before he starts speaking again.

“look, about yesterday. ’m sorry for what i said-” you suck your teeth, unwillingly reminded of the emotions it brought up. “whatever, it doesn’t matter.”

“it does matter, you were obviously hurt by it.” you adjust your head, resting it atop your forearm. “whadda you care?” you ask, your voice clear this time.

“what do ya think i just go around hurtin’ people’s feelin’ on purpose?” you finally pick your head up, giving him a knowing look. “yes. yes i do,” you say seriously.

you could see his face grow agitated at the accusation. “yeah, well that ain’t me.” his eyes dart around the room for a second before meeting yours again, his gaze softer than usual. “ ‘m sorry for what i said. i was outta line.”

you scan his face for any signs of insincerity, but there aren’t any. his voice was faint and apologetic, a side of atsumu you had never seen before. if he was capable of being a decent person, then why wasn't he always like this, you thought.

you clear your throat, turning your head away and resting it on your arms once more. “it’s fine,” you mutter, barely loud enough for him to hear. atsumu opens his mouth to say something, but it cut off by the sound of someone entering the classroom.

first it’s one, and then two, and the next thing you know the classroom is filling up. you mentally curse him for not being able get any rest before class started, making a mental note to get your nap in before you went home for the day.

DAY TWELVE

the school day was finally over. you couldn’t wait to go home, but not before you returned the notes you had borrowed from osamu.

you head over to the volleyball gym where you know he’ll be having practice. your school was notorious for its men’s volleyball team, but you yourself weren’t very familiar with it; the only knowledge you had was that the twins were on it.

the sounds of shoes squeaking and balls bouncing pass through your ears as you inch closer to the gym entrance. you weren’t sure why, but you were nervous.

maybe it was the fact that you’d never actually been there before and felt intimidated. or maybe it was the thought of everyone’s eyes being on you as you interrupted their practice.

you creep up to the door, peeking your head around the corner as you took in the sight in front of you. there were boys bunched up on one side of the net, throwing volleyballs in the air and smacking them down with excessive force.

it startled you. you knew that the volleyball team had some power behind it, but seeing it up close was even more daunting. you scan your eyes around the gym for a familiar bed of grey hair, only to find him missing.

just where was that boy? suddenly, a ball flies at the wall next to you, and you let out a small shriek, watching as it rolls away and back towards the court. out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of something, or rather, someone.

there, a mere 10 feet away from you, stood atsumu. he was on the sidelines, chatting about something with his coach, his face displaying his passion for the conversation.

his hair was damp, beads of sweat dripping down his face. in one swift motion, he grabbed the hem of his sweat-soaked shirt, bringing it up to wipe the sweat off his face.

your ears grow hot at the sight of his bare torso, quickly snapping your head away and swallowing hard.

you hear his coach scold him for the action, tossing him a face towel, which he gladly took. then, atsumu’s eyes lock onto you, but you don’t notice. his face is puzzled. just what were you doing here, he thought.

“oi!” he shouts, loud enough to get your attention. your eyes meet his, watching him and he walks in your direction, throwing the face towel over his shoulder. you tear your gaze away, feeling your cheeks flush. what the hell was this feeling, you thought.

atsumu stops in front of you, his next line throwing you off completely. “ya come to see me play, or what?” the smugness in his voice makes you shiver. the growing sensation in your chest quickly dies down, and you’re brought back to reality.

you glare at him. “in what world would i ever be here for you?” you hold up osamu’s notebook, the boy’s eyes darting to it. “i came to return this, but i don’t see your brother anywhere,” you say, looking around the gym for him one last time.

“oh, yeah. he’s always a little late to practice. i’ll return it for you,” he says, holding out his hand for the notebook.

as you hand it to him, his fingers brush against yours, causing you to retract your hand faster than you meant to. atsumu furrows his eyebrows at you, opening his mouth to speak before you cut him off.

“so,” you start, clearing your throat. “do you guys practice everyday?” you ask, gesturing to the commotion in the gym.

atsumu looks to the court, and then back at you, shocked by your interest in the spike drills that were taking place behind him. “nah, they don’t. but i do.”

“why’s that?” you ask, his answer piquing your interest. “‘cause…i wanna be the best,” he responds, his voice eluding with confidence. but for some reason, his delivery was different.

usually, when he boasted about being the best high school volleyball setter in all of japan, there was a hint of arrogance to it. but now, he seemed more humble, if anything.

“atsumu!” the sound of his coach's damning voice makes him jolt. “what’s holding you up? get out there and spike some balls,” he exclaims.

“yes coach!” he shouts back, not even sparing you another glance as he jogs back out to the court, tossing osamu’s notebook on the sidelines.

you take that as a sign to make your exit, not wanting anyone else to notice you. as you leave the area, you feel your heart begin to thump. you told yourself it was just the anxiety settling in once more. but you were smart enough to know that that wasn’t true.

DAY NINETEEN

the following week at school was absolute torture for you. you weren’t sure why, but just being in atsumu’s presence made you queasy.

you were used to feeling a sort of existential dread from being around him. but this was the complete opposite.

you found yourself growing shy when you were under his gaze, your eyes sometimes refusing to make contact with his.

you also noticed the speed at which you would respond to his random remarks and comments. too fast, as if you weren’t ever expecting it.

atsumu was no help either. he didn’t seem to notice the change in your actions. in fact, he was way more friendly to you than ever before. sparking up casual conversations, saying his goodbyes in between classes. even saying ‘hey’ as he passed you by in the halls.

all of this was very new for him. you didn’t know what impression you left off for him to perceive you as a ‘friend’, but he was definitely treating you as such. you just hoped he didn’t see the effect he was having on you.

today for lunch, you decide to move to the rooftop. you needed to catch up on some extra studying, and since the classroom was always loud and noisy during this time, you felt the rooftop might bring you a little peace.

you grab a cracker from your lunchbox, munching on it as you examine the flashcards in your hands. math was your worst subject. you furrow your eyebrows at the flashcards, the equation being even harder to interpret.

unfortunately, osamu, who typically helped you in any area you needed, was just as bad at math as you were, and you didn’t feel like finding a tutor on your own, so you struggled through it.

speaking of the devil, in your peripheral vision, you catch the door that led to the rooftop open, out coming osamu. you turn your attention to him, ready to greet him from a few feet away, but he’s distracted, talking to the boy behind him.

as if his timing couldn’t be any worse, out comes atsumu, the pair laughing loudly about something that had occurred earlier in the day. you quickly bring your knees up to your chest, trying your best to hide your face with your flashcards.

you found stupidity in your actions, being that the two of you sat next to each other in class all day and you’d have to face him after lunch was over. you hear the door slam shut and bring the cards down, peeking at the boys.

you were surprised to see they had been joined by another boy. you recognize him from the halls, seeing as though he was always by osamu’s side. you were pretty sure he was on the volleyball team with them, his sharp eyes were hard to forget.

your line of vision shifts back to atsumu, who was now telling the two boys a seemingly intriguing story, capturing their full attention. you study him, his body language relaxed and expression care free.

maybe it was the newfound feelings that were brewing inside of you, but even the way you perceived him was different now. you were used to seeing him and instantly filling with rage, just the mere sight of him ruining your day.

but now, your gaze was gentle when you looked at him. instead of seeing him as that arrogant guy you despised, over the past two weeks or so, you had seen a different side of atsumu.

a side of him that could be tender, apologetic, and understanding. hell, you even thought he was actually kinder than his usual bitchy attitude led you to believe.

you were too wrapped up in your thoughts about atsumu to notice that he was now standing directly in front of you. your eyes grew wide as you looked up at him, him flashing you a chummy grin.

“you alright?” he says, a puff of air passing through his nose at you shocked expression.

“yeah,” you respond quickly, turning your attention back to your flashcards. “why wouldn’t i be?” you clear your throat, hoping he doesn't notice how sweaty your hands got.

“i don’t usually see ya eating lunch up here is all.” from the tone of his voice, you could tell he wasn’t trying to be nosey, just genuinely curious.

“needed a quiet place to study,” you answer truthfully. “ah, makes sense.” you’re caught off guard when atsumu pressed his back to the barred fence, sliding down and making himself comfortable next to you.

you try not to focus on how close he was to you now, your knees barely touching. “whatcha studyin’,” he says, his voice smooth as butter. you hated how easy it was for him to talk to you. even when you hated his guts, his words were always a lot calmer than you wanted them to be.

“math.”

“what, are ya struggling?”

“...i guess? i understand it i just need extra practice, i think,” you didn’t like how unsure you sounded, but you also didn’t want to tell him that you had absolutely no clue what you were doing.

“do ya need a tutor? i could help ya…i mean, if ya want.” you turn to face him to see if he was joking, but no. he was dead serious. “you are gonna help me with math?”

atsumu throws a hand up defensively. “uh, yeah? ‘m pretty good at it,” he says with confidence. you stare at him, not fully buying his presumed bluff.

“you…are good at math?” he sighs in defeat. “why does everyone react that way? is it that hard to believe?”

you stifle a laugh. “maybe a little bit…but sure, why not” you let out faster than your brain could process. wait, why were you agreeing to having him tutor you when you could barely be in the same room as him?

“cool, cool,” he says, patting his knees. a few seconds go by before his mouth is opening again. “so…the weather’s pretty nice today,” he says, trying to fill the awkward silence.

what on earth did you get yourself into?

──────₊°₊·♡⋆⑅˚₊──────

a/n: was so excited for this i wrote it in a day, hope you can’t tell.

HeianEra!Sukuna x Fem!Reader

CONTENT. Trueform!Sukuna, Knives mentioned, blood mentioned, kissing, p in v, pet names, his two dicks mentioned, loss of virginity, making it fit, cervix kissed, bulges, cumflated, fluff.

W/C. 8.6k

A/N. I enjoyed writing this ┃part two┃part three┃

The Heian era stretched long and bloody under skies that never quite cleared of smoke. Villages burned not for conquest alone, but because Ryomen Sukuna found the sight of flames prettier than the thatched roofs they devoured. He moved like calamity given legs, four arms thick with corded muscle, tattoos crawling black across scarlet skin, eyes the color of fresh-spilled blood and just as hungry. They called him the King of Curses long before any true cursed spirit bore the name; humans feared him the way prey fears the open mouth of a tiger, and with good reason. He slaughtered priests mid-chant, crushed shrine maidens beneath his geta, left offering bowls overturned and spilling rice across blood-slicked tatami. Faith irritated him. Devotion irritated him more. It was the only thing that ever made him pause long enough to really look at someone.

You were different in the way a single unbroken flower is different in a field turned to ash.

The temple sat modest on its hill, cedar beams darkened by centuries of incense. You had spent your life inside its walls. Sweeping stone paths at dawn, replacing withered chrysanthemums, murmuring sutras until your voice felt less like your own and more like something borrowed from the kami themselves. Your hands were calloused only from scrubbing floors and carrying water; your body soft in the way of someone who had never known violence except as stories whispered after dark. When war finally clawed its way up the mountain road, you did not run. You knelt deeper. Forehead to the cool floor, palms pressed together, lips shaping the same prayer you had spoken every morning since childhood.

Sukuna found you like that.

The Mischievous Devil and The Woodland Spirit

A warm summer breeze fluttered trough the meadow. A flurry of pink, blue and white flowerheads tilting and swaying from the soft nudge of the wind. In the heart of the tall grass and colour sat a softly glowing, pure hearted being. A fluttering linen dress draped over its delicate body. Feet bare. Hair braided and decorated with gentle summer blooms.

You.

tourist trapped

synopsis: what's currently on your summer itinerary? hot days and handsy nights on the sand and under the sheets, bikini-clad and slathered in sunscreen or soap. not getting stranded five hundred miles from your destination with the best friend of the guy you were supposed to be spending your vacation with. but when his car breaks down and you're stuck sharing the bed with Sukuna, you can't help but start to consider there might be more to him than tattoos and terrible music taste. who knows what sort of souvenirs you'll end up leaving with?

pairing: fwb's bsf!Sukuna x bratty!Reader

content: mdni, angst and fluff and smut, heavy sexual tension, gojo mentioned (reader's fwb), unestablished relationships, messy dynamics, casual sex, drinking, pining, yearning, emotional hurt, comfort, forced proximity, one bed trope, piv sex, confessions, idiots falling in love

part of this collab event with @lily-bisque hehe

chapter index

one: car troubles and tattoos

two: crab t-shirts (or topless)

three: crimes and ice cream

four: call it a night

five: cancelled plans

Check out the spotify playlist here!<3

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

⤷ ゛ ˎˊ˗ more coming soon...

my masterlist

want to be part of the taglist? Just comment it

synopsis: Sukuna, as Enma Daiō—the king of hell and the judge of the deceased—who judges a cute ghost.

wc: 2.8k

warnings: smut 18+, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, use of pet names (doll, baby, sweetheart), reader is dead (mention of car accident), Sukuna's lovesick

a/n: inspired by Hozuki's Coolheadedness yayyy

“Next,” Sukuna lazily shouted, boredly watching the old excuse of a motherfucker being taken off for the rest of the judging process. The king of hell snickered to himself as he remembered the guy’s face pale when he sentenced the douchebag to be burned for eternity.

The majority of the dead that came over to his palace to be judged by him were elderly people, so imagine his surprise when the demon staffs brought in a cute girl, with pretty doe eyes and pouty lips, who even made the ugly white robe the dead have to wear look like a tantalisingly pretty night gown.

Sukuna’s pupils dilated black, his head swimming with dizziness as he stared at you, practically drooling as you cowered beneath his intense, crimson eyes. The sweat on his temple slowly glided down his sharp jaw, the weirdly humid yet also dry, hot environment of hell definitely the only reason why his body was feeling too hot in the skin.

“Um… hello?” your soft, delicate and pretty voice rang out across the hall timidly, not knowing whether the silence and his staring was a good thing.

Fuck, you sound so sweet, and looked so fucking adorable.

Blinking slowly, he straightened up slightly and gave you a lazy, cocky, and self-assured smirk. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing here?”

when your husband is supposed to be the calm, rational one, you don’t expect to find him standing at the foot of the bed with his cock in his hand, whining into the dark.

but that’s where satoru ends up. tank top pushed halfway up his ribs, belt hanging useless from one loop, pants around his knees. his fist works up and down the fat length of his cock in rough, punishing strokes, spit and precum smeared down to his balls. he’s staring at you the whole time—at the soft curve of your hip under the sheet, the flutter of your lashes against your cheek. pregnant. glowing. carrying his baby.

and he’s rutting into his hand like some desperate virgin.

the panties he stole from the laundry basket are bunched in his other hand, pressed to his face. he inhales like he’s drowning, shuddering so hard the flimsy fabric trembles against his nose. your musky scent has him sobbing out a noise that doesn’t sound him at all.

“fuck, baby—” it rips out of him, pitched way too high. “smell so good... oh fuck, i can’t—can’t stop.”

his cock is obscene. flushed dark, veins raised under the skin, the head slick enough to shine in the faint glow of the bedside lamp. precum drips in heavy strings down his balls, thick enough to coat his knuckles. every stroke drags more slick out of him, messy and loud—schlick, schlick, schlick.

he sucks at the fabric like it could feed him, panting between licks, nose buried deep so he could breathe you in while his tongue works. “god, i'd eat you out for days if i just—mnhm!—if i just had the chance...”

his hips snap forward into his own fist, cock smacking his stomach with each thrust. precum splatters onto his tank top, dripping onto the hardwoods in obscene drops.

disgusting. a husband rutting into his fist because he’s too scared to touch his pregnant wife.

but satoru can’t stop. he’s babbling now, words spilling fast and needy. “want it so bad–fuck, i’d worship you, i'd never stop—”

he chokes on a sob as his balls tighten up, cock jerking violently in his grip. the sound he makes is humiliating, a high and euphoric whine. his thighs shake.

cum spurts out in heavy ropes, hot and endless, painting his stomach, his abs, his fist, the floor. lewd, thick jets that won’t stop, spilling like his body is trying to empty years of frustration at once. it drips down the backs of his fingers, strings across his knuckles, sprays his shirt. he gasps, still pumping through it, cock still twitching violently.

“ah—mnhg—fuck, t-too much, i can’t...” his voice cracks, strangled, but his fist won’t let go. more cum leaks out, drooling down his cock, streaking his thighs. his knees buckle and he braces one hand on the nightstand, forehead dropping against the wood with a hollow thud.

when it’s finally over, when the spurts slow to tiny dribbles, he’s still shaking so hard he can barely breathe. his cock still twitches against his stomach, still half-hard like it doesn’t know how to stop.

and you’re still asleep, lips parted beautifully while he stands there.

oh god, he is so fucked.