promise me?
pairing // toxic!fratkuna x fem!reader
warnings // 18+ only, smut, unprotected sex, slight cum play ig, soft sukuna, depression, angst w/ comfort, he's likes your bush, mdni!!
word count: 7.8k
author's note: thank you all for waiting for part three, i hope you like it :)
part 1 | part 2
Warm sunlight spills across your skin as you blink lazily against the brightness.
The first thing you feel is the familiar weight of an arm draped over your waist.
You smile to yourself before you've even opened your eyes completely, instinctively scooting backward until your back presses against his chest. He lets out a quiet hum of approval, burying his face into the crook of your neck as his arm tightens around you.
You can hear the birds outside the bedroom window, the distant hum of cars somewhere below, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek.
For a while, neither of you moves.
There was never any rush on mornings like these.
Eventually, his fingers lazily trace small circles against your stomach before sliding lower to intertwine with yours. You turn your head just enough for him to press a sleepy kiss against your temple.
Another follows your cheek.
Then your jaw.
Until you're laughing quietly, trying to push him away while he ignores every half-hearted attempt.
The room feels warm.
Safe.
Like nothing bad could ever happen.
...
Your eyes flutter open.
The room is silent.
Your hand instinctively reaches across the other side of the bed, searching for a warmth that had disappeared long before you woke.
You sigh quietly and roll onto your back, staring blankly at the ceiling.
It had been almost six months since Sukuna broke things off.
Six months since you lost a piece of yourself.
You glance over at the clock on your nightstand.
5:07 a.m.
Too early for anyone to be awake, but sleep had become a rare luxury these days.
Today would have been your third anniversary.
You couldn't help but think back to all the conversations you'd had during your first year together—the ones where the future seemed so certain. You'd spent hours lying tangled together in bed, talking about everything you were going to do once college was over. Traveling the world, meeting each other's families.
Getting an apartment together.
Getting married.
If only your past self could see you now.
Maybe she’d do things differently…
You sluggishly push yourself up, your bare feet sinking into the carpet before you make your way out of your room.
The dorm is quiet.
You make your way to the bathroom, peeling your clothes off with movements that feel heavier than they should before stepping beneath the spray of warm water.
It takes a while for you to do anything other than stand there, your forehead resting against the cool tile as the water runs over your skin, washing away two days' worth of exhaustion without ever quite touching the ache settled somewhere much deeper.
When you finally step back into your room, you pull on an old pair of sweats and a loose tshirt— his tshirt... before letting the damp towel fall onto the floor. Your hair drips onto your shoulders as you pass the mirror, catching your reflection only long enough to notice how unfamiliar you look.
At some point you'd stopped caring.
The makeup brushes scattered across your vanity sat untouched beneath a thin layer of dust; your perfumes remained lined up exactly where you'd left them months ago, and the little jewelry dish that used to empty every morning now stayed full, each necklace and ring waiting patiently for a version of you that never came back.
There was a time when getting ready had been your favorite part of the day.
You let yourself fall backward onto the bed, pulling the comforter over your body until only the faint glow from your iPad remained visible. You stayed like that for the entire morning, intent on hiding yourself away from the world until the day finally passed.
Criminal Minds had been playing for hours, episodes rolling into one another without you remembering a single plotline, the familiar voices filling your room just enough to keep the silence from becoming unbearable.
Eventually, you reach over and pause it.
The room falls quiet again.
Your phone is already in your hand before you really think about it, your thumb hovering over your photo album for longer than reasonable.
You know exactly what waits behind that little icon.
You know how this ends every single time.
Still, the album opens beneath your fingertips with the ease of muscle memory, and before long you're scrolling through the photos you'd promised yourself weeks ago you would delete, searching them with the quiet desperation of someone afraid memory might one day fail them.
You'd become terrified of forgetting him.
The curl of his upper lip when he was scolding you. The way he'd lean against doorframes with his arms crossed whenever he was waiting for you to finish getting ready. The tired look in his eyes after he'd stayed up too late.
You found yourself studying each picture a little longer than the last, as though if you looked hard enough, you could somehow memorize him all over again before life stole something else you weren't ready to lose.
You scroll slowly, your thumb dragging lazily across the screen as a familiar weight settles into your bones.
Missing him felt cruel somehow, like it was another thing you hadn't earned. Every time your heart reached for him, your guilt was already there to meet it, quietly reminding it that none of this would've happened if you'd just been…different.
You stop on a picture you'd taken while he was asleep.
You remembered laughing to yourself after you took it, careful not to wake him as you tucked yourself a little closer into his side before turning the camera around. You'd been wearing the biggest, most obnoxious grin, so ridiculously proud of yourself for finally catching him off guard after months of him threatening to throw your phone across the room every time you pointed it at him.
He'd complained about pictures constantly, muttering under his breath that they were stupid, that nobody needed fifty photos of the same damn thing, but he never actually stopped you.
Looking back now, you couldn't remember a single time he genuinely told you no.
A faint smile finds its way onto your lips as you swipe to the next picture.
He was halfway through a bowl of udon, cheeks full as he glared at you from across the table while you laughed so hard the photo came out slightly blurry. You could still remember him pointing his chopsticks at you afterward, the way his voice sounded when it was muffled by the food in his mouth. Five minutes later, he was begging to finish yours too.
The smile barely had time to settle before it slipped away.
Your thumb stopped over the next photograph, your stomach sinking as you stared at it a little longer.
It was one of the few pictures the two of you had actually posed for together.
You'd only been exclusive for a couple of months then.
The blunt had been passed back and forth until it was nothing more than ash, the conversation drifting from stupid jokes to long stretches of comfortable silence while the wind tugged gently at your clothes.
You remembered thinking he'd gone unusually quiet before he finally looked over at you, like he suddenly wasn't quite sure what to do with himself.
Then he asked you to be his girlfriend.
You were surprised, honestly. You'd never imagined someone like Sukuna could get nervous, but there he was, a faint flush dusting his cheeks as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, his usual bite nowhere to be found.
The second you said yes, the tension seemed to melt right out of him. His shoulders loosened with relief before he stepped forward and kissed you.
Some woman passing by must've noticed because she'd smiled at the two of you and insisted on taking a picture.
You'd agreed immediately, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist as you pressed your chest into his side, the last of the evening sun casting everything in a warm golden glow. You were looking straight at the camera, smiling so brightly your cheeks almost hurt.
He didn’t look. Instead, his eyes were on you.
Your thumb lingered over the picture, tracing the outline of his face.
You let out a slow breath, your throat tightening.
God, you missed him so fucking much.
You locked your phone and tossed it onto the bed before dragging both hands over your face, willing yourself to breathe through the discomfort before another wave of tears could find you.
You'd promised yourself you weren't going to cry over him anymore, but every time you looked at his pictures, your resolve crumbled so quickly you hardly noticed until your vision blurred all over again.
You stayed there for a long while, curled beneath the blankets as the room settled into an uneasy silence around you. The faint hum of the air conditioner drifted through the dorm while sunlight crept slowly across the floor, inching closer to your bed with every passing minute until it warmed your sock-covered feet.
You watched it absentmindedly, letting the hours slip by without paying them much attention, hoping that if you stayed still long enough your heart might eventually grow tired of hurting.
With a quiet sigh, you forced yourself upright and pulled on your shoes before shrugging into your hoodie, tugging the sleeves over your hands as you stepped out into the hallway.
You hadn't planned on going anywhere today, but your feet carried you onward anyway, moving with a certainty your mind couldn't seem to match.
The bus ride passed in much the same haze.
Buildings gave way to open stretches of road as the familiar scenery rolled past the window, your gaze fixed somewhere beyond the glass while your thoughts wandered where you kept telling yourself not to go.
Nearly thirty minutes later, you stepped off onto the gravel shoulder and made your way down the narrow dirt path.
The wind greeted you first, carrying the sharp scent of saltwater through the air as it rustled the tall grass growing along the edge of the cliffs.
Everything looked exactly as you remembered it.
It wasn't until you stopped walking that you fully realized where you'd come.
The place where your entire relationship had begun.
You settled against the weathered wooden fence, your gaze drifting across the ocean as the evening sun dipped lower towards the horizon. The breeze carried gently over your face, and for a moment, everything felt exactly as it had before.
It was comforting…yet unbearable.
You drew in a slow breath, but it did nothing to ease the sting gathering behind your eyes.
You had so many regrets.
There were days when they settled calmly in the back of your mind, and you were able to ignore them enough to function.
Then there were days like today, where they seemed to press against your ribs with every breath, making it impossible to think about anything else.
You wished you could go back to the point where everything started to change. To the version of yourself that hadn't yet let every fear, every insecurity, every old wound convince you that the person standing in front of you was eventually going to disappoint you just like the ones before him.
Somewhere along the way you'd stopped letting him love you, choosing instead to test it over and over until there was nothing left to prove.
You knew, logically, that the end of your relationship hadn't rested entirely on your shoulders. But standing there, looking out over the place where it had all started, logic didn't seem to matter very much.
Your mind wandered back to every argument you'd started, every time you'd pushed him away only to see if he’d come back, every cruel word spoken out of spite and jealousy.
You thought about how many times he'd looked at you with tired eyes and chosen to stay anyway, working tirelessly to chip away at the walls you'd built around yourself, never once asking you to tear them down all at once. He wanted to give you the world. Kept trying to prove himself to you.
And god... did he really try.
You wrapped your arms around yourself as a few silent tears slipped down your cheeks, the sound of the waves crashing against the cliffs below filling the space as you mourned the loss of your love.
By the time your tears finally began to slow, the sleeves of your hoodie were damp where you'd wiped at your face over and over again. You let out an unsteady breath before turning toward the old wooden staircase, carefully making your way down the weathered steps as they groaned softly beneath your weight.
Your eyes stayed fixed on your footing, avoiding the splintered boards and patches of rot that had grown worse over the years.
The last step creaked beneath your shoe.
You lifted your head.
Dark eyes met yours.
The world seemed to stop all at once as the two of you stared across the small platform, surprise settling over both of your faces.
Sukuna sat rigid on the old bench, shoulders tense, his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets like he was bracing himself.
A sharp rush of heat flooded your body, stealing the air from your lungs. Your pulse thundered in your ears, thoughts slipping away as your body struggled to catch up with what your eyes were seeing.
Shit.
You turned on instinct, desperate to leave before you broke down in front of him.
Before you could make it more than a step up the old wooden staircase, his voice called out from behind you, stopping you in your tracks.
"Wait."
Your breathing turned uneven as you squeezed your eyes shut, every part of you wanting to hide yourself away.
Looking at him felt impossible, but somehow walking away felt even worse.
So, slowly, you turned.
The moment your eyes met his, a rush of adrenaline shot through you.
He looked…sad… and for a second neither of you seemed capable of saying anything.
"I, uh..." he started, his face flushing as his eyes lingered on yours. "I was gonna leave... you stay."
You could only stare at him.
Your fingers twitched at your sides before curling into your palms, reminding yourself that you didn't have the right to reach for him anymore.
"It's okay..." you whispered, your tongue feeling bulky in your mouth.
Silence settled between you once more before his gaze drifted back toward the ocean, leaving nothing but the sound of the waves filling the space between you.
"You, uh..." his throat bobbed as he swallowed, "you wanna sit with me for a bit?"
The hesitation in his voice pulled you back three years, to the same nervous man who could barely look you in the eye when he'd asked you to be his.
"Sure..." you answered quietly.
You made your way over to the bench and sat beside him, leaving a polite space between you.
It felt strange.
This day last year you were tucked beneath his arm without a second thought, and now neither of you seemed to know how to exist in the same space.
The wind drifted through the cliffs, carrying the sounds of the seagulls gliding above you two. You both sat quietly, watching the water catch the last of the evening light.
"So..." he said after a while, his voice deeper than you remembered, "how've... uh... how've things been?"
You didn't answer right away.
Your eyes stayed on the ocean as you searched for something that wouldn't sound absolutely pathetic.
"It's been okay."
He could hear the lie as soon as it left your mouth.
What else were you supposed to tell him? That you'd spent months feeling like half of yourself had disappeared the night he left you?
A quiet breath left your nose, almost sounding like a laugh if someone wasn't listening closely.
He didn't push.
The two of you simply watched the sun sink lower, the sky slowly melting into soft shades of gold, crimson, and violet as thin clouds stretched and blurred across the horizon, drifting slowly overhead.
"I wanted to apologize..." he said quietly. "...for how I treated you the last time—"
"You don't have to apologize," you interrupted, your voice barely above a whisper, "I deserved it."
His jaw tightened.
He wet his lips, keeping his eyes fixed on the horizon as the breeze stirred the loose strands of his hair.
He knew better than to look at you for too long. He knew every time he did, whatever resolve he had slipped through his fingers like sand.
"You didn't deserve that..." he said after a moment, the words leaving him with a shake of his head.
You don’t respond to that.
"I..." your voice caught almost immediately, forcing you to swallow around the tightness, "I'm sorry Sukuna."
His head snapped toward you.
In the whole two and a half years with you, he couldn't remember a single time you'd actually apologized.
You kept your eyes lowered, your fingers twisting together in your lap as you gathered the courage to keep going.
"I..." you took a shaky breath, "I was a terrible girlfriend."
His brows drew together as he looked at you properly for the first time since you sat down.
You looked different.
No pretty earrings…no dainty necklace...
Your face was bare, your eyes tired.
His gaze drifted lower before settling on your hands, where your fingers nervously worried at the promise ring he'd given you on your first anniversary, now resting on your middle finger.
His chest tightened so sharply it almost hurt.
His hands curled into fists inside the pocket of his hoodie, the only thing stopping him from reaching across the bench and pulling you back into his arms.
He knew this was a bad idea.
The second he'd seen you making your way down the old wooden staircase, he'd almost convinced himself he was imagining things.
For a brief, impossible moment, it had felt like the breakup never happened, like you were simply coming to meet him the way you always used to.
"I was so mean to you... and I was so toxic," you continued, your voice beginning to tremble, "I don't know why I'm like this…"
The tears came before you could stop them.
"I've been so scared of getting hurt... of being vulnerable… that I just kept pushing you away." your words caught on uneven breaths as you struggled to keep yourself together, "...I wish I would've been different."
You shook your head, wiping hastily at your face with the sleeve of your hoodie.
"I wanted to be different for you so bad, Sukuna."
Only then did you finally look at him.
The regret in your eyes hit him harder than any argument the two of you had ever had, and for once, he realized you looked just as exhausted as he felt.
"I didn't deserve you," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, "I'm just... so fucking sorry…"
His heart broke all over again.
"I know." he answered.
The words sounded harsher than he'd meant them to, and he let out a slow breath, dragging a hand roughly through his hair before dropping it back into his lap.
His jaw stayed clenched, his foot tapping restlessly against the dirt as he searched for the right thing to say.
"It wasn't all your fault." he admitted after a long moment, his eyes falling back to the scenary, where the last of the sunlight danced across the water, "I was an asshole... and I was always too aggressive."
You shook your head, ready to argue, but he didn't give you the chance.
"I was." he looked at you then, his expression leaving no room for debate.
Your gaze fell back on the water, his words settling somewhere deep inside you.
It wasn't all your fault.
The thought felt foreign.
"Maybe..." he let out a quiet breath, "...maybe we were cursed from the start."
You frowned, turning the words over in your mind as the breeze picked up.
"I just want you to know that, despite every mistake I made..." your voice softened as you looked back at him, "...I've never loved anyone as much as I love you."
He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, blinking quickly before a quiet sniffle escaped him.
"Yeah..." he cleared his throat, his voice rough.
The word settled sharply in your heart.
A small part of you had waited— hoped— for him to say it back, but you swallowed the disappointment before it found its way onto your face.
"Well..." you let out a shaky breath as you pushed yourself to your feet, "...I should probably get going before it gets too dark."
You brushed the dirt from the back of your sweats before tucking your hands into the pocket of your hoodie, letting your eyes linger on him for just a moment longer.
"I’m glad I got to see you, Sukuna."
With that, you turned and slowly made your way back toward the staircase, each step creaking softly beneath your feet.
Sukuna watched you walk away, his eyes lingering on your retreating figure long after you'd stopped looking back.
Every instinct in him screamed to go after you, to say something— anything —that might keep you from running away, but the quieter part of him kept reminding him why he'd let you go in the first place.
Memories surfaced one after another.
You cussing him out and demanding to go through his phone. You getting wasted and flirting with every guy who gave you a second glance.
The sound of his car door slamming after he'd driven you home from yet another argument...
…The meals you'd always have waiting for him after a long day at work...
The absentminded way you'd trace your fingers over his tattoos whenever he laid against your chest.
How you'd looked at him, as though every rough edge he carried was simply another part of him worth loving.
Nobody had ever done that before...
A sharp curse tore from him as he shoved himself off the bench, the motion abrupt, restless… like staying still for even a second longer would suffocate him.
He didn’t bother with the stairs properly—taking them two at a time, nearly missing his footing in his haste. By the time he reached the top, you were already halfway down the road, shoulders hunched.
His feet moved faster than his thoughts could catch up, carrying him forward before he had the chance to stop himself.
“Hey!” he shouted, voice rough, louder than he meant it to be, cutting through the calmness and drawing a few startled glances from nearby bystanders as he closed the distance between you in long, urgent strides.
You turned at the sound of his voice, confusion barely having time to cross your face before he reached you and pulled you into his arms, crushing your body against his.
You froze the moment his arms closed around you, a surprised huff leaving your lungs as you stood there for a second, too stunned to move.
Then you melted into him.
Your fingers bunched the fabric of his hoodie as you wrapped your arms tightly around his waist, burying your face against his warmth as months of grief came spilling out all at once.
He held you closer, his chin resting lightly against the top of your head as he closed his eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of your conditioner he'd spent months trying to forget.
"I'm sorry..." he whispered, his voice rough against your hair.
You could only shake your head.
The words were there somewhere, caught behind the lump in your throat, but every time you tried to speak, another sob took their place.
When he finally leaned back, his hands lingered at your waist before slowly finding your face, his palms warm against your tear-stained cheeks. His eyes wandered over your features quietly, as though trying to memorize you all over again, before he leaned forward and kissed you with a gentleness you'd never felt from him before.
You kissed him back without thinking.
When your lips finally parted, he rested his forehead against yours for the briefest moment before taking a small step back.
Your fingers instinctively caught the front of his hoodie, and the look that crossed your face made his heart hurt.
You looked terrified he'd disappear the second you let go.
“Will you come home with me?” he asks quickly, his heart pounding loudly in his ears.
You blinked before giving a small nod, your thoughts racing with implications of his request.
You didn't know if he wanted you back or if this was simply one last night before the two of you finally let each other go, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.
If he was the one asking, you'd go anywhere.
The walk back to his car passed in silence, neither of you quite knowing what to say.
He opened the passenger door before reaching across to buckle your seatbelt, the movement so automatic neither of you acknowledged it, and for a fleeting moment it felt as though the last six months had been nothing more than a bad dream.
The drive home was long and achingly familiar.
When he finally pulled into the driveway, your eyes instinctively drifted toward the end of it, the memory of cold concrete against your scraped knees returning so vividly you could almost feel the sting. The porch looked exactly as it always had, clean and ordinary, giving no sign that the worst night of your life had unfolded there.
He unlocked the front door and stepped aside to let you in first.
You slipped your shoes off by the entrance before wandering a few steps into the living room, taking in the familiar space that had once been a second home to you.
Behind you, the front door clicked shut.
A second later, you felt his hands settle carefully on your hips before he pulled you back against him, resting his forehead against the side of your neck.
"I missed you…" he murmured against you, the confession so quiet you almost wondered if he'd meant to say it out loud.
You let yourself sink into him.
He pulls you tighter against him, his hardness already pressing into your lower back as if he couldn’t control himself. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his hands sliding up under your hoodie to caress your soft stomach.
You sigh as you feel his calloused palms run up your abdomen until they settle under the swell of your breasts.
Your heart was pounding so hard now you were certain he could feel it through your ribcage.
And yeah…
He knew what he was doing to you.
He’d learned the language of your body years ago— how your breath hitched when he ghosted his palms over your skin, the way you’d grow hot when he used his fingers.
His hands continued their exploration until he was cupping your breasts, his thumbs rubbing circles over your hard nipples. He presses a lingering kiss to your pulse point, sucking a deep dark mark into it before smoothing his tongue over the sore spot.
Without a word, he pulls away from you and leads you by the wrist to the couch, his grip firm but gentle. He sits down first, pulling you onto his lap so that you’re straddling him.
His large hands immediately go to your hips again, squeezing possessively.
You place yours over his shoulders, feeling the thick muscles under your palms. His dark eyes lock onto yours with a heavy, knowing gaze.
You both stay just like that, months of separation settling between you two like an invisible barrier. He can see the nervousness flickering in your expression, so he doesn’t rush you.
He simply keeps his hands on you, grounding you to him. You swallow as you feel his length press against your inner thigh. It makes your face flush embarrassingly deep, as if it were your first time being in this position with him all over again.
He watches you, his chest swelling painfully with affection and love.
He recognizes your nerves—that little stutter that always surfaces when you’re overwhelmed.
His dick is thick and hard against you as he shifts, allowing him to press more firmly into your core as he rubs his hands over the sides of your thighs.
“You look so pretty…” he mutters, his eyes low as he openly takes you in.
Neither of you says a word, but you don't have to. The way he holds you says everything neither of you are quite brave enough to voice.
The love. The hurt.
The quiet possessiveness…
He can see how much you need him— how much you need each other. The feeling fuels his movements as he reaches his hands behind you to grip your ass, pulling you forward until you’re flush against him, both of you twitching at the contact.
Your nails dig into his shoulders, your clit throbbing as you imagine him sliding through your wetness, using your slick to lubricate himself just how he did before.
His hold tightens with enough strength to bruise as he works your cunt over him in a slow, agonising rhythm—building the tension before he fucks you dumb.
You gasp, and his mouth quirks up into that knowing smirk. He knows exactly what you need— what you need him to tell you to do.
“Take your clothes off.” he pulls his hands away from you.
The command is absolute, his voice dropping an octave.
He sits back against the back of the couch and lets his arms spread along the back, watching you with a dark, heavy gaze that makes your hole clench around nothing.
There’s no room for negotiation—he expects obedience, and the subtle flex of his muscles tells you he enjoys seeing you vulnerable in front of him.
You stand on shaky legs and pull your clothes off, your hands moving clumsily as you stand in front of him in your bra and panties. He watches as your soft curves come into view. His eyes drag hungrily over the shape of your body before he hums.
“Everything.”
You nervously unhook your bra, then push your panties down, cursing yourself for not shaving. He swallows hard, his gaze lingering between your thighs before he forces it back up to your face.
“Come ‘ere.”
You crawl back into his lap, your center brushing over the front of his sweats as you settle back in.
He inhales deeply, his jaw clenching as he feels the warmth of your bare pussy right over him. He brings his hands back to your ass, pulling your cheeks open as he moves you over him again.
Your thighs twitch as you feel the rough material rub over your clit, causing you to moan quietly.
“Such a sensitive little thing…” he licks his lips.
Your hands tremble on his shoulders as you look down at him—this powerful, intimidating man who somehow belongs to you.
Belonged… to you…
You push the reminder down and focus on the feeling of him against you.
He studies your face, seeing every flicker of emotion…every spark of desire.
“You know what I want, baby.”
You let out a breathy moan as you begin grinding onto his lap. He groans low in his throat, his head falling back slightly as you find that rhythm he taught you. His hands continue to guide you, letting you use him to chase your own pleasure.
“There you go…” he breathes out, “let that pretty pussy soak my cock.”
You rub your clit back and forth on him, the wet sounds sending a shiver down his spine. He can feel it soaking through to him, the smell of your arousal flooding his senses. He moves his hands to hook his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats, tugging it down just enough to free the head of his cock.
“Baby…” you whine, watching as his length springs free.
He slowly drags the thick, swollen head through your slick, coating himself completely. Every time he flicks over your clit, you both moan.
The visual is obscene—your pussy spreading as he bullies his way through your puffy lips, letting your wetness drip down his entire length. His hips flex slightly as he finally presses against your entrance, stopping just before he slips in.
You whine again, this time in frustration as he teases your opening.
“Shh, baby…you know I love making you wait…” he coos at you lowly.
You tilt your head to the side, your eyebrows furrowing as you look at how small your pussy looks compared to his girth.
“Hold on to me.” he says, and you immediately wrap your arms around him tightly.
He holds you against him as he stands, his arms lifting you with effortless strength, before he settles you on your back against the couch.
You watch him pull his clothes off, his cock bobbing up and down as his heavy balls hang down between his thighs. He wraps a hand around himself as he kneels between your legs, using the other to hook underneath your knee and push you open.
“Lemme see that pretty pussy baby…” he grunts out as he fists his tip.
The sight is overwhelming— the veins bulging along his shaft, the head swollen and leaking onto your thigh…
He looked like a greek god towering over you.
You moan and pull your legs up and open, reaching one hand between them to run down his torso.
“Sukuna…fuck me.” you wet your lips as you look up at him.
His abs flex under your touch, and he has to squeeze himself at the base to stop himself form cumming right then and there.
He grips one of your ankles, bringing it to rest against his shoulder before using it to push your other thigh to the side.
You were spread open just the way he knew you liked.
“Gonna fuck you just like this…” he lifts your hips to fold one of his throw pillows under you to line your hips up with his.
“Kuna…” you’re panting now, your pussy dripping down your crack, perfectly positioned for him to hit all the sensitive spots inside of you.
You feel absolutely dirty.
You can hardly wrap your head around the way your day had changed so drastically since this morning, but you don’t care.
All you know is that you need him inside you.
He leans down, crushing your leg against your body as he captures your lips in a slow, messy kiss, swallowing your needy whines before his heavy cock starts dragging through your folds.
He straightens back up and smirks as he deliberately catches on your slit again, causing you to whine out. He can feel your opening trying to suck him in, clenching and pulsing against the underside of his dick, and he finally decides to show you some mercy.
Your breathing grows heavier as he reaches down, his thumb pushing his crown into you before he returns it to your thigh.
He applies slow, unbearable pressure, watching as his thickness splits you open. Your walls flutter and cling around the intrusion, almost as if it were trying to pull him in but push him out at the same time.
“Relax…let me in...” he groans.
“Ohhh fuucckk...” you moan loudly as your head falls back against the cushions.
He groans as he bottoms out, then brings his thumb to your clit, pulling the hood back to let your hard, shiny pearl pop out from under your light bush.
He lets a glob of spit fall directly over it before he starts rubbing distracting circles to help you adjust.
His jaw was tight with restraint.
“There you go…look at that…” he grins down at you as he applies more pressure to your aching nub.
You whimper.
“Fuck… you’ve been saving this little pussy for me, haven’t you?” he lets out a breathy chuckle as you tighten around him, your body hypersensitive after months of abstinence.
You nod, and his thumb speeds up, desperately trying to draw out those sweet sounds from your mouth.
“Feels good, huh baby?”
You cry out as he pinches your clit between his fingers, rolling and swiping over it until your thighs are shaking uncontrollably.
“I-Ima cum, Sukuna!” you gasp out as you feel the familiar burn spreading through you like a wildfire.
“Mmm…let go on my cock.”
He feels your walls clamp down violently around him, your pussy twitching as you cum.
A shocked cry leaves your lips at the intensity of it. He works you through it, making you take every wave while he stays buried deep.
“So tight…” he groans as he grabs your hips, pulling out before you’ve even begun to recover.
The sound is obscene— a loud, wet squelch that echoes through the room as he rocks his hips forward just once, slamming deep into your insides. He curses under his breath as you tighten around him further, reacting violently to the sudden movement.
He freezes there, buried to the hilt, watching your face scrunch up in a mix of shock and pleasure.
He knows he won’t last long. Not with the way you're milking him, and the faces you’re making.
“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, pretty…” he breathes out.
He starts moving with devastating, practiced rhythm— slow, heavy strokes that drag every thick inch over your overly sensitive walls. The wet noises grow louder with each return into your heat.
Your whole body burns as you look up at him. His eyes are fixed on where you join, his pupils dilating as he watches you take him, your lips stretching around him each time he pushes forward.
“More baby…” you say quietly, biting your lip as you rub your hands up your body, stopping to pull at your stiff peaks.
You were putting on a show for him.
He growls and begins fucking into you harder, using your hips as leverage to pull you back onto his cock with each slap of his hips.
“Shiiit…” you moan out.
He buries himself entirely inside you with each thrust, your tight hole sucking him in greedily. Your body jerks up and down the couch as your hands fly down to fist the cushion.
“Ah!” you squeeze your eyes shut as he angles his cock up, slamming into your g-spot roughly.
He moans loudly.
He loved seeing how he vanished into your pussy, only to emerge coated in your cream, and he’d never admit this, but he loved it when you didn’t shave.
“Watch me as I fuck you.” he grips your jaw roughly, forcing two fingers into your mouth.
Your eyes fly open as you swirl your tongue around them wetly.
His expression is devastatingly handsome— brows furrowed, jaw slack as deep masculine moans poured out of him.
He’s fucking both of you stupid.
He presses his fingers deeper, making you gag and moan before he pulls them out to slap your tit.
“F-Fuck yes baby, you’re gonna m-make me cum all over your cunt.” he pants, gripping your soft flesh into his hand.
You grunt as he grinds into you meanly, his pubic hair rubbing into yours, creating a delicious friction over your swollen clit.
His eyebrows knit together as he watches your eyes roll back, your mouth open in a perfect ‘o’. Each grind pushes his blunt head against your cervix, sending devastating jolts straight through you.
“Kunaaa!” you let out a high-pitched moan as your body tenses.
“I-I know, baby…” he whines as his balls tighten up, “cum with me…please…”
“Pleeaaasee,” you cry out, tears pricking your eyes, “m’close, please!”
The sounds of your broken, desperate begging send him over the edge. His mouth hangs wider, a raw, guttural moan tearing from his throat as his hips pull back to slam forward one last time— burying himself as deep as he can.
He hunches forward to bury his face in your neck as he releases thick ropes of cum against your womb.
Your body locks up as your own orgasm washes over you, a pathetic whine escaping you as you wrap your arms tightly around his head.
His cock pulses inside you, his warm seed overflowing and leaking onto the pillow under you. You’re sealed around him like a vice, sucking every last drop out of his heavy sac as they press tightly against your ass.
He holds you tighter, kissing along your neck lazily as you both ride out your waves of pleasure together.
He sucks another dark mark right along your jaw before he pulls back and smirks.
You can only look up at him dazed as his cock softens inside you, your shared wetness coating both of your thighs. You stay like that for a while before he sighs and leans back onto his knees, finally pulling himself out.
He watches with dark, satisfied eyes as your gaping pussy oozes his release— globs of white leaking out and down over your puckered hole. He uses his fingers to spread you open, watching how your used hole puckers open and closed.
He shook his head, a quiet laugh slipping past his lips as he pushed himself off the couch. Stretching his arms above his head, he scratched absentmindedly at his stomach before disappearing down the hallway, leaving you alone with nothing but the faint sound of running water somewhere deeper in the house.
The silence settled over the room almost immediately.
Your eyes drifted toward the hallway he'd vanished down, then to the front door. The longer he stayed out of sight, the heavier the knot in your chest became, until you were already pushing yourself off the couch.
Your clothes were scattered across the living room floor where you'd left them earlier, and you gathered them slowly, your fingers clumsier than usual as you pulled them back on. You'd just tugged your hoodie over your head when footsteps echoed down the hallway.
He appeared with a damp washcloth in one hand.
"Sorry, I had to—" the words died on his tongue as his eyes landed on you standing by the door.
His brows pulled together, confusion quickly replacing the small smile that had been resting on his face.
"You…going somewhere?"
You froze.
Guilt settled in you heavily as a dozen different explanations rushed through your mind, yet somehow none of them made it past your lips.
“Oh… I was—” you stammered, “I just thought…”
The words faded before they ever became a sentence.
You clasped your hands together in front of yourself, suddenly finding the floor far more interesting than his face. He watched you for a long moment before shaking his head, a quiet laugh escaping him as he looked away.
“God…” he glanced back at you, amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth, “you really are dumb sometimes.”
Your head snapped up.
“Excuse me?”
He chuckled again, tossing the damp washcloth onto the kitchen counter before closing the distance between you. His hands found your hips with an easy familiarity, gently pulling you back against him until you had no choice but to meet his eyes.
Hope flickered quietly in your chest, so small you were afraid to acknowledge it.
“What?” he asked, licking his lips as he searched your face, “you thought I was gonna fuck you and then just let you leave?”
Your mouth opened, then closed again.
“Uh…” you looked down, heat creeping into your cheeks, “I don’t know…”
The smile on his face softened as he watched you fumble for an answer.
“Not happening.”
Your eyes lifted to his again, searching his face for what he meant.
“Huh?”
He didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he leaned down and kissed you, slow and deliberate, and when he finally pulled away, your head felt almost weightless. Your eyes fluttered open to find him already looking at you, a familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Fuck no,” he murmured, “I’m not letting you go again.”
For a second you could only stare at him, the words taking a moment to settle before they finally reached you.
The tightness in your throat gave way all at once, your bottom lip trembling as tears spilled freely down your cheeks. You buried your face against him, clinging desperately as though you were afraid waking up would make all of this disappear.
He let out a slow breath, his arms tightening around you as he rested his chin lightly against the top of your head.
He gave you a moment to cry before gently pulling you back, one hand cupping your jaw while his thumb brushed away the tears that refused to stop falling.
“Stop crying, crybaby…” he mumbled, the teasing softened by the way he looked at you.
“I-I just…” your voice broke before you could finish, another wave of tears blurring your vision.
He sighed quietly and pulled you back into his arms.
“I know, baby…”
You wrapped yourself around his waist, breathing him in like you’d spent the last six months forgetting what home smelled like.
“I love you, Sukuna.” you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest.
“I love you…” he answered into your hair.
Eventually your tears settled into quiet sniffles, and he led you down the hallway to his bedroom. The familiar room was dimly lit by the bright moon filtering through the curtains as you climbed into bed beside him, every muscle in your body aching with exhaustion.
You curled against him without thinking, your head resting over his heart while his hand moved slowly up and down your back, the steady rhythm coaxing some of the tension from your body.
“Hey…” he said quietly, his voice low with exhaustion.
“Hm?” you hummed, shifting slightly against him without opening your eyes.
“Promise me something.”
His fingers slipped into your hair, gently massaging your scalp as the room settled comfortably around you.
“What, baby?” you mumbled sleepily.
He was quiet for a moment.
“Promise me we’ll be better this time around.”
Your eyes slowly opened, and you lifted your head just enough to rest your chin against his chest. You caught the uncertainty in his expression, so unfamiliar on someone who had always carried himself with unwavering confidence.
It made a deep ache swell inside you.
“I promise.” you whispered.
He searched your face for another moment before giving the smallest nod, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead as he guided your head back against him.
Beneath your cheek, his heartbeat rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, and you listened to it in silence, hoping this time neither of you would give the other a reason to forget its sound.
His arm tightened around your waist.
Tomorrow would ask more of the two of you than love alone had ever been able to give.
But maybe…just maybe…
You’d get it right this time…
whewww chiiiile
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Fucking sobbing. This whole series was so good. The angst was perfect.
