blue-140

20 smth tryin my best ao3

[hunnismokah]

adult zuko!!!

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I love my mans 😭

[blue-140]

The Reaper and His Doll

Mafia Boss Sukuna x Reader Chapter 2

As always, feel free to leave constructive criticism!

Chapter 1

TW: Nothing, I think

WC: 1.4k

You finish up the stitches as best as possible, and after his dizzy spell has passed, you lead him to your couch. He sits down with a surprised grunt, “This is the most uncomfortable fucking couch ever, is it made of concrete?” 

You ignore him as you begin to make him some scrambled eggs. “You should eat and drink something; it will help you feel better.” You don’t need him passing out. Hopefully, you can get him out of here soon.

“You're a weirdo”

He doesn’t even know the half of it. You carefully break eggs into a bowl with an amused huff, “I’m well aware. Now, can I, your amazing savior, know your name, or must I just call you Mr. Intimidating Criminal?”

He smirks, “While I definitely don’t mind the compliment, you can call me Sukuna, doll.” 

You pause your whisking and slowly turn to look at him, shocked, “The same Sukuna who owns all of downtown? As in the major criminal, Sukuna?” Fuck. . . what did you just get yourself into? No, wait, this could still be a good thing. You’re sure he can still help. You did save his life after all.

“Yep.” He pauses; not many people recognize his name in connection with his less-than-legal activities. “Now, I don’t like owing people, even a pretty thing like you,” he drapes his thick arms across the back of your couch, showing off his broad stature and expansive artwork that travels across his body in long lines and wrapping rings, “So, what is it that you want from me? Money? You live in this shithole,” he gestures waving his hand in a lazy circle, “I can get you a nice penthouse in a much nicer part of town.”

You avert your eyes and turn back to the stove. “While that sounds appealing, and trust me, I would love to get out of here,” You would honestly rather live anywhere else, but you can barely keep up as is, “I have a bigger issue. We can talk more about it when I fix your stitches tomorrow, but I need help with something you're more equipped to handle. . .” you trail off, and he hums in acknowledgement. 

Handing him a plate of eggs and a cup of juice, you reach for a business card to hand him as well, “I will be here from 6 am to 12 am. Come anytime tomorrow,” you point your finger at him, “but do come tomorrow, seriously, those stitches can get nasty if I don’t fix them.”

“Do you not sleep?” he looks down at his very expensive watch, which probably costs more than your entire month's rent. “It’s already 4 am?” Your face doesn’t change as you jut your finger at him again. He throws his hands in the air in a placating gesture, “Okay, okay, I’ll make time to swing by, happy princess?”

“Thrilled,” you sigh, leaning back from his personal space, “Yeah, I don’t sleep much on weekends, it’s a chance for extra money. But if you are done eating and feeling better, I would absolutely love it if you could leave so I could take a nap.” 

“Ya, I’ll get out of your hair, doll,” as he stands up, you study his movements for any signs of instability, “I’m fine, I’ll see you tomorrow for our second date.” While walking out your door, he smirks and holds your business card up between two fingers, and does a somewhat salute goodbye. 

You sigh and close the door, resting your back against it for a moment as your eyes flutter shut. The thought of a nap is nice, but an all-nighter is more realistic, pushing yourself off the door, you drag your feet back into your cramped living room. You slump back into your concrete-esque couch, pick your now third cup of coffee that has gone cold, back up and resume shuffling through the piles of documents spread across your table. 

The next day, in the late afternoon, Sukuna finds himself standing outside of a building with a bag in one hand and double-checking the address on the card you forced on him with his other. It’s a run-down and beyond old veterinary office, but it’s clearly still in operation. He flips the card over and sees a handwritten note on the back. Shrugging, he opens the door. The receptionist’s black hair is tied up in a knot with pieces falling in front of her glasses. He approaches her as she pushes some of her hair back behind her ear.

He clears his throat to get her attention and repeats what the note said, “Excuse me, I don’t have my pet with me, but I have a few questions for the doctor.” 

She looks him up and down, rolls her eyes, and bluntly states, “You don’t own a pet.”

After an awkward pause between the two, you come out from the back, “Maki, stop making my customers uncomfortable. He brings money, which helps me pay you!” You look at him and motion towards an exam room, “Follow me.”

You quietly shut the door behind him, “I bring money?” he asks as he sits in one of the chairs, “I have to pay you when you're the one who demanded I come here?”

“Duh, how else am I supposed to keep this shitty place afloat? Plus, you're the Sukuna, I know you can pay.” You quip as you start to pull out the necessary supplies to redo his stitches. 

Ignoring your quick, but accurate response, he pulls out a single rose from a grocery bag, “Here, I’ve been told you are supposed to give your date flowers.”

Your hands stop, the procedure of readying supplies that normally comes so naturally to you suddenly escapes you. “First of all,” hands starting again, slower this time, as you let out a small chuckle, “this isn’t a date. Secondly, you said flowers, plural, where are the others?” You tilt your head at him, eyebrow quirked up as you take the rose, it’s notably free of thorns.

His jaw drops in a playfully shocked expression, “I don’t even get a thank you? I didn’t realize you were such a brat.”

Rolling your eyes, you smile and sniff the sweet-smelling flower, “Thank you, Sukuna.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. You’ll get more flowers on our other dates. I have a feeling I will be seeing you more often. Now, what is it you need from me?”

“I need you to take your shirt off so you don’t get a disgusting infection” 

“You know that’s not what I meant, but if you wanted me to strip again,” he pulls his shirt over his head, and you pause once more in your movements to admire his muscular build for a moment, “you could have just asked.” He finishes his sentence and smirks when he notices you staring. “What do you need handled?”

He hisses as you start to cut the poorly done stitches out, and you sigh, “I need you to intimidate someone. . . My mom’s the reason I live in that shitty place and why this office is going under. She sends her debt collector after me, and I would rather pay him than end up as the alley rats’ next meal. And the last time I tried to send a low-level criminal to stop him, I ended up having to pay double and fix the kid up.” You mutter, “I should have trusted my gut, but he convinced me he could handle it.”

You feel the rumble of his voice as you continue to work, “That’s light work, just give me a name” 

“His name is Jogo.” You avoid eye contact and focus intently on your hands,

He pauses for a moment, “I know Jogo. I’ll make sure the shithead never bothers you again, doll.” He tilts his head to look at you, and you look up at him with appreciation.

His stomach tenses at a particularly tender stitch, “Ya fix people too? That why you're so good?” he mumbles.

A flash of pride crosses your face, quickly followed by pure exhaustion, “Yeah, that’s also why I barely sleep. Vets are open during the day, but doctors who treat criminals are open at night, because, for some reason, no one can manage to get hurt during normal business hours.”

Suddenly, there is a knock at the door and a scrawny kid with partly pink hair walks in, “Hey, miss, Maki said just come in and I- SHIRTLESS MAN SHIRTLESS MAN!” The teen screeches as he points, and you hear Maki’s cackles from the front desk. “Wait, Boss?” he lowers his accusatory finger as he tilts his head in confusion.

Your head snaps up at Yuji, then to Sukuna, “Boss?”

He sighs, “Don’t tell me it was this idiot you sent after Jogo?”

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Update

Hi all, sorry for the long wait. School and summer school kicked my ass. But now I am free to write! I decided to go with Sukuna for this fic, and I'm currently working on the next few chapters. Please be patient with me, this is my first fic, and I normally write poetry, so this is a shift for me lol. Feel free to always give me constructive criticism, and I hope you are having a lovely day!

[blue-140]

The Reaper and His Doll

Mafia Boss Sukuna x Reader Chapter 1 This is my first real fanfic, so please be gentle, but feel free to leave constructive criticism!

Chapter 2

TW: Gory, Medical Shit? (I think that's it)

WC: 967

As you sit down on your lumpy couch with your third cup of coffee that night, hunched over your small, unbalanced table, you suddenly hear loud banging on your front door. Blinking tired, dry eyes at the clock that reads 3 AM, your legs carry you to the door before your mind can fully catch up. “Who the fuck . . .” you crack the front door open, “Who are you and why are you knocking on my door so late?!” The first thing you notice is the blood. Then his pink hair and tattoos that travel across his thick, athletic build. 

“I’m not here to cause trouble, sweetheart,” he tries to come across as calm, “I’m bleedin’ out, and your light was on. So if you don’t want me dyin’ out here on your doorstep, let me in.” He croaks out while clutching his side.

“O-Oh shit,” you open the door fully, ushering him in, now completely alert, “Jesus! What happened to you?! Uh, I’m not sure I have great medical supplies here. Let me look for some. Do you need help walking?” As you ask him, you’re already slipping yourself under his shoulder to help. He hisses in pain as you lead him through your shitty, rundown apartment to your small kitchen table. “Sit here and keep pressure on that while I get supplies.” He looks around and grimaces at the pustulent colored peeling wallpaper and the heavy musk of rotting wood.

His eyes silently follow you for a few moments while you grab what looks to be pliers, sewing supplies, and bandages. “You’re either brave or stupid.” He grunts, pushing his blood-soaked shirt into his side, it doesn’t help; warmth continues running down his body.

You answer while pulling out a pot and putting it on to boil, “Well, this is more exciting than what I was doing, and I’m betting you won’t hurt the person who saves your life. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to have an intimidating criminal owe me.” You shrug while dropping the needle, thread, and pliers into the boiling water. “You obviously don’t want the police involved, since you didn’t call, or ask me to call an ambulance.” 

You’re right, he thinks. His lips twitch in a small smirk, “Smart and accurate.”

You quickly take the materials out of the water and make your way over to the table with a towel and gloves. “Okay, a few minutes boiling and some disinfectant is going to have to be sanitized enough. I also only have a regular needle and synthetic thread, so hopefully you're not cut too badly. Let’s see the damage.”

He chuckles while unbuttoning his shirt, “Not cut, sweetheart, shot.” Pulling his now scarlet-stained shirt off, he added, “So forward, we just met, and you're asking me to strip already.”

You roll your eyes until they zero in on the injury, bubbling and oozing blood, “Holy shit, an actual bullet wound, that’s so cool! And here I thought I would only use these pliers if you had some asphalt in there!” You lose focus for a moment, observing the puncutre. 

“Cool? You're looking at an open wound, not some action movie. Now, are you gonna help me out or just stare?”

“I’m not fazed by this stuff, I grew up seeing blood and guts and shit— never a bullet though,” You put your gloves on and start to spray the disinfectant on the needle and thread, “Alright, this is going to hurt, so I’m sorry in advance.” 

He grits his teeth, but doesn’t flinch as the disinfectant stings his wound, his eyes fixed on your weirdly calm demeanor, “You’ve done this before,” it’s not a question.

“We can get into that later. Now, I’ve dug rubble and maggots out of wounds, but never a bullet, and I don’t have the exact supplies for that, so these pliers,” you hold them up to his face, “will have to do. But first, I’m not sure how much blood you’ve lost, so if you start feeling woozy, please tell me, so I can lay you down instead of your what? 6’5? Ass falling on top of me.” He chuckles, but slightly nods. “Okay, again, this is going to hurt, I’m sorry!” You apologize as you poke your finger into the wound.

He tenses, and his voice sounds strained, “It’s fine, doll, had a lot worse by people not nearly as beautiful.” You find the bullet with your finger and eventually manage to pull it out with the pliers. He hisses sharply as fresh blood wells up to the surface, hand darting out, grabbing your wrist firmly to steady himself, “Fuck. .” he starts to lean back against the table.

“Oh shit, oh fuck, oh shit, are you about to pass out? Let’s get you lying down in case you are.” Clumsily lying him down on the floor, you mumble, “This is a lot easier when they are already passed out.”

He lets out a loud laugh, the movement sending shooting pain throughout his stomach, “I ain’t gonna die on your floor, sweetheart.”

“Well, duh, I’m too good to let you die, but I don’t need you falling and causing another injury. Okay, time for the hard part. For me, not you, you get to just lie there.” You grab the needle and start to make sutures slowly. He quietly grunts as you continue, “They aren’t going to be as tight as I would like, but it will stop you from bleeding out for now. If I can get the right needle and thread, I can fix them up later and hopefully prevent infection.” 

He smirks, “You tellin’ me we’re gonna have a second date, doll?” His eyes follow your gentle hands as they work.

“This was a pretty crappy date if that’s what you’re calling it.”

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Coming Soon

I'm getting back into writing and have a few ideas. A one shot will be coming out soon, and if yall like it, there might be more. Feel free to comment any requests!

[azafloop]

ch 4: campus culture - r.s.

Chapter Four.

Synopsis: Ryomen Sukuna hates the smell of omegas, except you. So imagine his satisfaction when you agree to be his parter for your anthropology project.

Tags: frat!sukuna x reader, shy!nerd!reader, eventual smut, omegaverse, alpha!sukuna, omega!reader, omegaverse is NOT a main plotpoint, swearing, crude language, slight angst??, mature themes, no use of y/n, p in v, alc0h0l consumption, dry humping, hickeys, f!nger!ng, oral (f receiving), more tags to be added.

wc: 9.8k

a/n: hey so writing this actually took forever but its 9k words so at least you guys are fed!! shit lowk hit the fan in my life but i'm now very back on track and all i can say is that the ao3/fanfic author curse is real. thank you again to my beta reader @lenamorgan77 !!

chapter one : chapter two : chapter three : masterlist : ao3

MDNI

You’re not sure why you invited Sukuna over to work on the project at your house instead of the library. It’s a Friday night, the library is likely empty and quiet and perfect for practicing your presentation. Besides, the two of you still had a week until you had to be done, and Sukuna had been practically glued to your side after your heat ended. He was with you constantly, driving you to and from the library, class, your house. 

People talk — of course they do — but at this point, you’re completely desensitized.

So no, you probably shouldn’t have suggested that Sukuna come over to finish the project, especially not when you used his Instagram and your saved-in-chats as the primary resource throughout your heat; not when you didn’t take his clothes off the entirety of your heat. 

And Sukuna knows he probably should’ve stayed home. While your pheromones have stabilized, your house still has the lingering smell with the slight twinge that Sukuna remembers. And fuck, he’s trying to stay as soft as possible even when you’ve never looked better than you do in your sweatpants in the comfort of your own home. 

Your laptop is screen-mirrored onto your living room tv, the printed out papers of your project doc strewn on the floor in haphazard, half-organized piles. 

“Okay, this time I got it. Do not make me laugh again.” You tuck your hair behind your ears, finger hovering over the spacebar on your laptop, ready to practice presenting your half. Sukuna is sitting on the floor several feet in front of you, spread out and leaning back against the couch with a lazy smile and eyes trained on you.

Your skin is hot, the weight of his eyes on you as you try desperately to stay composed is almost too much to bear. He’s looking at you with that same amused smirk as always, and a small laugh escapes between your words.

You click to the next slide, giving him a look. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what, ma?” His smile grows, you file it away in a deep, deep gooner part of your brain. 

“Like I’m a piece of meat.” You shoot back, quickly glancing at your speaker notes before you continue presenting. 

You finish practicing and he claps, slowly, lazily, not stopping until you’re sitting criss-cross-applesauce beside him on the floor. You pull your laptop into your lap and begin editing small parts of the presentation, and Sukuna sits up more to lean over your shoulder and watch. He doesn’t care what you’re doing on your laptop, he couldn’t care less what changes you make, but you smell so nice and you’re still wearing his t-shirt and the proximity is making him dizzy. 

It’s unclear when the two of you became so okay with being touchy with each other. Maybe it started when your hands would brush each time you handed him the pen he always borrowed, maybe it started at the party, maybe it started when your shoulders would brush as you walked across the quad, maybe it started when holding hands on his center console started to feel normal. The dating allegations stacked the evidence against you. No, the two of you aren’t PDA, but you aren’t dating. Sukuna being touchy? That’s just being friendly… duh

Sukuna perches his chin on your shoulder, your cheek against his cheek. He inhales deeply, exhaling slowly enough to make you shiver with the tickles. “You smell good.” He practically groans. “Especially when you’re studying.”

“You always tell me that, Ryo.” You say, barely paying attention to him shifting closer to you, continuing to type away on your laptop. “And what do you mean when I’m studying?”

Sukuna’s lips quirk in the smallest smile at the nickname, and he dips his head down to look at your face. “Whenever you’re really concentrated, you start to smell like cinnamon. You always smell like that when you’re studying.”

“How can you smell all that?” You poke him in the forehead, scrunching your nose with a sniff. 

Sukuna shrugs. “I’ve always had a sensitive nose. Kinda pisses me off sometimes though, shit gives me migraines. Alpha thing, I guess.”

You hum, pushing your laptop off of your lap and shutting it. “Do you ever, like, wish you were a beta? Because sometimes, my cycle and all the stigma around omegas just really pisses me off, y’know?”

He nods. “Yeah, I get it. It’s kinda the same for alphas, there’s a stereotype. And college doesn’t really help with that.”

“School helps with it, kinda. It makes me feel in control at least, especially when there’s a lot of things out of my control.” You’re looking down at the palm of your hand, partially zoning out and partially thinking of Sukuna, of his presence in your life. 

You look over at him, and he’s already looking at you — well, more like your lips before flicking back up to your eyes the moment you catch him staring. 

You clear your throat, sitting up straighter and passing your laptop to him. “Your turn to practice.”

He sighs, taking your laptop from you and standing up in front of the tv. His presentation is perfect, of course it is, spoken with perfect ease. Honestly, you’re just grateful you have the opportunity to ogle him without it being too obvious. His black t-shirt is tight on his arms, cotton stretched over thick muscles. His jeans are slung low enough on his hips to show half an inch of his boxers’ waistband. You’ve long since learned exactly why he has the reputation that he does — Sukuna is a walking Calvin Klein ad.

You swallow hard, thoughts beginning to race. This is dangerous. You know that. You know what kind of guy everyone says he is, but he’s not like that, not with you, right? That won’t change if you sleep with him, right? Would he even want to? He probably only goes for more experienced girls. Come to think of it, you’ve only ever heard of him sleeping with sorority girls, so he probably wouldn’t be into you. But then again, he showed up to check in when you were in heat, and he smelled so goo-

“Are you listening?” Sukuna flicks your forehead, snapping you out of your thought avalanche. He raises an eyebrow, and you feel your face heat. 

“Yeah, obviously I was listening.”

Sukuna chuckles. “Sure, ma. Then you know I finished.”

“Right, yes, I do know that.” You look up at him sheepishly. “Great job.”

Sukuna sits back down beside you on the floor, leaning against the front of the couch. His face is turned towards you, but he doesn’t say anything. You pull your knees to your chest, leaning your cheek against them when you turn to look right back at him. Neither of you says anything for a beat, just sitting there on your living room floor, the house cold and empty save for your unlikely pairing. 

“Library again tomorrow? I’ll pick you up at the usual time.” He asks, sitting up and crossing his legs. The distance between the two of you has shrunk, not that you’re paying attention. Of course not.

You nod. “Yep, same time as always.” 

It’s normal for Sukuna to study with you now. If anything, you find it more difficult without him there. Without the steady tapping of his shoe against yours under the table, the way he glances out the window every time he needs to really think, the way he zones out watching your fingers type, you’d be unable to concentrate for long enough.

He smiles at you, a sweet, warm, genuine smile, something you’d never expect from him, even despite how many times you’ve seen him smile at this point. 

It’s impossible not to smile back at him, though yours is clumsy and flustered. You giggle. “What? Why’re you looking at me like that?”

His smile only widens, you didn’t even know he was able to smile that much. Sukuna shrugs, and the movement shifts him ever so slightly closer to you, though you pretend not to notice that your side is now pressed to his, shoulder to shoulder. 

He runs a hand through his hair. “No, nothing. It’s nothing.”

“I hate you. Tell me right now, please.” You pick up your head from where you were resting your cheek on your knees, pouting. “Please?”

“No, it’s just… I was thinking about how the project was ending, n’ how we aren’t gonna have class together next semester.” He shrugs, glancing at the presentation still on the tv before looking back at you. “And this is nice. You’re a good influence on me.”

You’re quiet for a moment, unsure how to approach Sukuna’s vulnerability without making him feel uncomfortable. “We can still study together. I’m always at my spot, and you’re always welcome to come over whenever.”

Some part of Sukuna is seething with frustration. No, he doesn’t want you to tell him that he’s welcome whenever, he wants you to want him there. But he doesn’t say that, he’d never push, not with you. He chooses not to say anything at all, studying your face instead.

“You’ll come, right? We won’t stop being friends after this is over?” You ask, phrasing it as a question even though it’s more like a disguised plea. You’d feel embarrassed if you weren’t so desperate for his answer. “I’ll keep being a good influence.”

“No, we won’t.” Sukuna affirms, nudging your shoulder with his. “I’ll still drive you places, too. Don’t trust the school shuttles, especially not at night.”

“It’s really not that bad-”

“I’ll drive you.” He says firmly. “S’not a big deal, don’t have anything better to do most of the time.”

You laugh lightly. “Alright, fine.”

“No parties, don’t want you throwing up in my car.”

Your jaw drops, mortified. “I did not throw up in your car last time! Or anywhere for that matter! I am not a thrower-upper when I’m drunk!”

He tips his head back slightly. “Yet.” He overenunciates the ‘t’, his signature smirk spreading across his lips. You want to slap it off of him, or kiss it, either is fine.

You frown at him, pushing yourself up off the floor and onto the couch. “You’re evil, I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” He does the same, turning to face where you’ve tucked yourself into the corner of your couch. Hidden horribly, it looks like there’s something he wants to say, but doesn’t. 

You point at him, accusing. “You keep looking at me like that and it’s freaking me out. Can you please just say whatever it is you need to say so badly? You look constipated.”

“Fuck off.” He raises an eyebrow at you, chuckling once. You laugh lightly as well, relaxing your legs out slightly so they’re draped over his thighs. “Do you-” he pauses, looking into his lap, “when you scented me at the party…”

You scream at yourself internally. Of all the things you thought he’d bring up, that was not one of them. “What about it?” Your feeble attempt at playing it cool.

He looks up at the ceiling, dragging a hand down his face to muffle his mouth when he speaks. “Did you do that just to drive me crazy?” Sukuna looks over at you, hand dropping to his side, but you can’t read his expression. 

You know your face is completely flushed in embarrassment, there’s no use in hiding it with your hands when you know he’d just pull your wrists down. “It wasn’t… I didn’t- fuck, um.” You laugh awkwardly. To be fair, you weren’t exactly sure why you did it either. Nope, that’s not right. You couldn’t stand watching all those omegas go up to him. “I guess it just felt more comfortable?”

He shoots you a look that tells you he didn’t buy your excuse. “Bullshit. C’mon, ma, y’know can read you. What? Did j’get jealous or something?”

You don’t respond, looking away. Sukuna sits up straighter, turning fully to face you. You cross your legs in your lap. 

“You were jealous?” He asks in badly disguised disbelief. 

“A little, kind of, I guess?” You squeak, still not looking at him. “It was gross, watching all those girls rub up on you all the time. And I could tell that you were uncomfortable by it, so-”

Sukuna is barely thinking. The second your words register in his brain, he’s already moving, practically possessed. You don’t even realize what he’s doing until his scent is flaring and he’s sliding his hand to the back of your neck and pressing his lips to yours. 

It’s the lightest, briefest peck, so light that if you weren’t on such high alert, you almost would’ve missed it. He pulls back just as quickly as he’d leaned in, eyes wide like he’s just as shocked at himself as you are. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I probably should’ve asked. I don’t know why I…” His voice trails off as he runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t want you to feel weird around me.”

You shake your head. “No, no it’s fine. It’s okay, it’s not weird, I won’t be weird about it.” You sputter. What the hell just happened?

“Do you want me to go? I can go, if you don’t want me here.”

“You can stay, seriously. I was gonna ask if you wanted to order food, anyway.” You should get an oscar for how well you’re feigning being mostly unaffected. You’re not unaffected, obviously, but Sukuna doesn’t need to know that. You hand him your phone, the Uber Eats app already open.

The pit in his stomach dissipates, mostly. Internally, he’s doing backflips like he’s back in middle school and just had his first kiss, but another part of him is praying you don’t ghost him after this project is done. He doesn’t want you to hate him, doesn’t want you to feel uncomfortable around him like he’s gonna pounce on you at any moment. He has better self control than that… usually.

“You’re pouting. What’s wrong?” You look him up and down, your brows slightly creased in worry? Confusion? “Do you not want to order food? I can make pasta, but that’s like, literally the only thing I have in my pantry.”

“I’m not pouting.” Sukuna gruffs, rolling his eyes at you, but you hear the slight smile in his voice before it appears on his face. “I don’t pout.”

“Mhm, of course you don’t.” You hum in sarcastic agreement, knowing he’s fibbing. Just as well as you can’t get anything past Sukuna, he can’t get anything past you, either. 

He chuckles lightly, his gaze flicking down to your lips only once before he slides back down onto the floor and in front of your laptop, pulling it into his lap. He can feel your eyes on him as he types, making small edits to his speaker’s notes and tweaks to the visuals on the slides. As much as he tries to will away the flush spreading across his face, he knows that his ears are bright red and he knows that you can tell. 

“You’re staring.” He states, glancing back at you with a smirk.

“A girl can’t even watch her friend type anymore, god forbid.” You giggle, moving off of the couch to sit on his left. He huffs, and you lean your cheek on his shoulder, watching him work for a minute or two longer before you get restless. 

“Food?” You ask, grinning up at him. “Chinese takeout? Pretty please?”

“I’m down.” He pushes your face away with his palm on your forehead before standing up. “Gotta piss.”

You nod, watching him disappear down the hallway and only allowing yourself to fully relax with a long exhale once you hear the bathroom door click shut. You slide your hands down your face finally processing what happened and laughing with quiet, discombobulated delirium. Holy shit. Sukuna kissed you. 

“Fuck.” You whisper, covering your mouth with one hand, pulling your knees to your chest and staring down at the floor in front of you. He’s Sukuna, this is all just part of his plan, right? I mean, you didn’t pull away or give any signs that you didn’t want to keep kissing him, but it was just a peck so it probablyjustmeansnothingright?

You hear the bathroom door open and immediately straighten, grabbing your phone and opening Instagram in a feeble attempt to look occupied. 

“You good? You’re all red.” Sukuna pokes your cheek from where he’s standing. 

You nod quickly, a little too quickly to be casual, but Sukuna doesn’t mention it. “I think we should go over it one more time and be really picky. I don’t want this to bring down my grade.”

“Ouch, ma. Didn’t think you thought so low of me.” He settles into his spot beside you. 

You glare at him, huffing with a mock frown. “I’m not gonna start glazing you, save your breath.”

The two of you turn back to your work, specifically the pieces of paper scattered across your living room carpet rather than the slides. Along with your verbal presentation, the project also required a five page minimum research paper, one that the two of you have been slaving away on for weeks. You’re hunched over a sheet of paper, chewing on the end of the red pen you only ever use for revisions. Sukuna’s watching you like a hawk — though in his defense, he was really, really trying to stay focused — and praying you don’t notice him staring at you. Or notice his growing semi that he is so desperately trying to wish away. Stupid fucking pen.

All Sukuna wants to do is kiss you again, really, fully kiss you properly, not that shy shit he did earlier. And it’s killing him. Being with you is easy, easier than he thinks he deserves, and a part of him feels shamelessly guilty for reasons he’d rather not name. 

For the rest of the night, the two of you slave away at the project, deciding to finish the entire thing and get it over with in one sitting instead of procrastinating, which was Sukuna’s vote, of course. It’d be a lie if you said you and Sukuna didn’t kiss at least once more after that first time. Not making out — no, you’d never let it get that far — but the occasional peck landed on cheeks or lips or shoulders or necks with the causal ease that comes from history, not just trust. 

Sukuna leaves your house late that night, into the earliest hours of the next day. A part of you doesn’t want him to leave at all, not when you have class with him early the next day. But he leaves anyway, the dizzying scent of his pheromones lingering long after he’s gone. You can smell him on your clothes, in your hair, on your skin, everywhere. 

--

The presentation went flawlessly. Yours and Sukuna’s project was presented with the utmost efficiency and meticulously planned to ensure engagement. Each time you speak, everyone pays attention, especially Sukuna. His eyes burn into the side of your face, and you’re starting to sweat. Yet despite your nervousness, and the tension burning between you two, the presentation is perfect.

Your professor praises your work, as well as specifically complimenting the “fantastic collaboration coming from such an unexpected pair”. You nod, thanking him, and glancing over at Sukuna to find him already looking at you.

A long, slow exhale leaves you once the two of you leave the lecture hall. He looks down at you with a slight smile and a low chuckle. You look up at him with a mirrored smile that you partially cover with your hand in disbelief.

“Holy shit…” You laugh once in pure relief. 

“Yeah…” He looks equally as surprised at how well that went. “Y’need a ride home?”

You nod as the two of you start to walk towards the doors leading outside. “Yes, please.”

Sukuna opens the passenger side door for you, as he always has, but there’s an underlying finality to it. Even though the two of you agreed to stay friends even after the project is over, it won’t be the same. Sukuna won’t be there to pick you up every monday and thursday morning, he won’t be there to give you a ride home when you stay at the library too late, he won’t be there to keep you company in class since you wont have class together anymore.

He reaches for your hand as he drives, pulling it from your lap and interlacing your fingers over the center console. The car ride is quiet, comfortably so, but quiet nonetheless. He brings your hands up once, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. You glance over, he squeezes your hand.

Sukuna walks you to your door, and you pause before you fully step inside, turning back to look at him. He’s watching you closely, your skin burning under his gaze. 

“I’ll see you around, okay?” He asks, but it’s less of a question and more of a demand. 

You nod in response, “Yeah, for sure,” and start to step inside before you look back at him over your shoulder.

He towers over you, brows slightly creased with an indecipherable expression. You turn slightly to face him, expecting him to say something else. He doesn’t, instead he dips his head down and presses his lips to yours, firm, controlled.

That’s all it is. Sukuna pulls back, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek, then the slope of your neck, right on your scent gland. You stand there, stunned for a moment at his apparent self control and how the kiss felt so much like a goodbye instead of a see you later. 

He nods once, stepping back and walking back to his car parked in your driveway, only glancing back once. You watch him pull out and drive away, unmoving from your spot standing in the doorway. It’s only when you can no longer hear the rumble of his pickup truck a block away when you slowly close the front door, yourself inside and a firm barrier between you and Sukuna. 

--

Over the next few weeks, you hardly see Sukuna. Sure, you’ll see him at the coffee shop that has become your go-to or the diner where the two of you became regulars, but only in fleeting moments. You see him walking across the quad sometimes, too far away to say hi to but just close enough for you to admire him for a moment; his backpack slung over one shoulder, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows, wired earbuds in and likely leaking whatever Smashing Pumpkins song he was into at that moment. Sometimes he’ll spot you before you see him, and he’ll fall into step beside you, just for a little while until one or both of you has to peel away and actually head in the right direction instead of stalling just to be together for a second longer. It was just proximity, surely not real attraction, right?

It makes you feel a little sick sometimes, how he seems to be unaffected by your absence, that is, until he’s with you and will make a small, almost imperceptible complaint over how he hasn’t seen you in forever. Forever meaning like, two days, but he’d just roll your eyes at you whenever you noted that. 

Sukuna, on the other hand, has been thinking about you non-stop. So much so that not having class with you anymore has thrown him off so much that even Toji has noticed it, and Toji doesn’t care about anything other than alcohol and pussy. He smelled you once when he walked into the library, the wave of your pheromones practically slapped him in the face and he embarrassingly whipped his head around to try and find you, but you were nowhere to be found. He’d never admit how much you’ve gotten into his head and swished around his brain, he’s desperate for anything at this point. Should he probably think about how he’s started to plan his routes to class so that he can walk past you and hear you say hi to him? No, that doesn’t mean anything. And no, he does not think about the few times he’s kissed you, not because he doesn’t want to, but because every time he thinks about it, he gets horny and pissy and upset that he can’t see you right that second. He has too much self control for that. 

Sukuna is too easy at being casual. You’ve always known that. He commands so much attention and so he’s learned how to be perceived, he’s learned how to hide in plain sight. Your shared anthropology class wrapped up just before winter break, so you’re leaving to visit home in just a few days, just for the holidays before you come back to spend New Years on campus. 

You’re cutting across the grass of the quad, opting to shortcut it to shorten your walk in the cold, when Sukuna suddenly appears at your side, his signature smirk absent from his face and replaced by a small, yet genuine smile. 

“Hey, ma. Where y’headed?” He asks, dipping his head down slightly to hear your response. 

“The philosophy building.” You tell him, definitely not noting how he slowed his walking down to match your speed. 

He nods, “You gonna be here over new years?” 

You adjust your bag on your shoulder, glancing up at him. He’s already looking at you, an expectant look on his face. “Yeah, I am. I get back on the 28th.” 

His once-small smile widens into a proper one. “Perfect. The frat is hosting new years, you should come.”

You practically choke on your own spit, and you shake your head. “Ha, no. Not my thing.” You pick up your walking pace just marginally.

“I want you to be there.” He speeds up his strides to match your pace. “Please, ma? I’ll pick you up and drive you home and babysit you all night, just like last time.”

“You don’t need to do that for me.”

“I want to. If you want me to stay with you all night, then I’ll stay with you all night. If you want me to leave you alone, then I’ll leave you alone. Please come. I won’t get upset if you leave early.” He quips at the end.

You glare at him, but can’t stop the smile from appearing on your face, and you sigh. “Fine, I’ll go. But you can’t lurk around me all night, you have to have fun, too.”

“Fuck yeah.” Sukuna slings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to him as the two of you continue walking. You can feel your face flush, and you’re thankful that all he can see is the top of your head. 

He releases you when you reach the philosophy building not long after, and you miss the warmth of his body heat, but only a little itsnotlikeyoulikehimoranything. “Text me the details, okay?” You tell him.

“Yes, ma’am.” He nods, already taking out his phone so as to not waste time and let you change your mind. Your phone dings in your bag, and Sukuna puts his phone away. “So, I guess I’ll see you then?”

“Yeah. Happy Holidays, Ryo.” You give him a smile before pushing open the door and disappearing inside. 

Sukuna stands there for a moment, staring at the door, his heart squeezing in his chest at the nickname and your presence and you smell and the steadiness you make him feel. 

--

The house is practically shaking with the bass of the music, and you’re immediately overwhelmed by the pungent smell of pheromones, weed, and alcohol. You thread through the crowd as best as you can, trying to find the living room where Sukuna said he’d be. He wanted to pick you up, but you insisted that you’d be fine and that you’d take an Uber, so he insisted that you had to find him the second you got there. 

After a solid 5 minutes of wandering, you finally spot Yuji sitting on a couch, and as you approach, you see Sukuna. Your blood immediately runs hot, his black wifebeater is tight on his chest with his tattoos on full display, his hair pushed back effortlessly, and a bored expression is on his face. He spots you almost immediately, even though you’ve only just entered the room, and he stands up, meeting you halfway.

“Hey. For a second there I didn’t think you’d come.” He quips, leaning down to speak in your ear so you can hear him over the music. That movement, as well as the bodies around you that press you closer make you hyper-aware of the proximity between you. 

“I literally texted you from the Uber.” You roll your eyes at him, and he only smirks back at you, as unserious as ever.

His hand traces down the inside of your arm before taking your hand, pulling you back to the couch where he just was and towards all of his friends surrounding it. Sukuna sinks right back into his spot, and you stand there awkwardly for a beat before he slides his hand around your waist, tugging your hips to sit on his thigh. 

Yuji looks at you in pure disbelief, Geto only smirks in knowing satisfaction, holding out his hand for Yuji to place $20. 

“You made bets? Dude, what the fuck?” Sukuna slaps Geto’s hand off of Yuji’s shoulder, eliciting a cackle from Gojo. 

You shrink into Sukuna ever so slightly, and his grip on your hip tightens fractionally, but just enough to steady you. “I’m gonna go get a drink.” You tell him. He starts to shift to stand up, but you place a hand on his shoulder. “I told you not to babysit me.”

Sukuna leans back, releasing you to stretch his arms across the back of the couch. He runs a hand through his hair. “Alright. Be quick and stay away from Mahito, or just like, everyone.”

“I don’t even know who that is.” You roll your eyes and stand up from his lap, walking towards the kitchen. You can feel Sukuna’s eyes on you until you slip into the next room and eventually make your way to the kitchen. Shoko pulls you into a tight hug the moment she sees you approaching the fridge. 

“Can’t believe he convinced you to come.” She laughs.

You laugh with her. “Neither can I, honestly.” You pull open the fridge and assess your options. Beer and WhiteClaw. Double yuck, but you grab a can of black cherry as the lesser of the two evils. Shoko talks to you for a few more minutes, mostly complaining about the people in her pre-med courses that piss her off, and you listen as you sip your drink. 

You didn’t realize you were gone long enough to be odd until you feel a large, warm hand slide around your waist to your stomach, pressing your back into a firm chest. You don’t need to look to know who it is, you know Sukuna’s hands and smell well enough. 

“No shit.” Shoko laughs in disbelief, pointing at Sukuna as she speaks to you. “You guys locked in?”

“What? No! No, he’s just touchy.” You sputter, peeling Sukuna’s hand off of your stomach, just for it to find purchase on your hip. You can smell the alcohol on him, just enough to tell you that he’s tipsy, not yet drunk.

Shoko raises her eyebrow at the two of you before she’s yanked away by Utahime.

You turn to glare at Sukuna, whose eyes are slightly glassy from the alcohol, which only elicits a sigh from you. “Are you already drunk?”

Sukuna smiles down at you, a slightly sloppy smile on his face as he shakes his head. “No, just tipsy. M’not that much of a lightweight.”

You sip your drink, unsure how to continue your conversation. In the time you’ve been apart from him, it’s become more difficult to talk to him. Or, not difficult, per se, rather that you’ve come to terms with the fact that you have feelings for him, and that realization that it was emotional and not just physical, biological attraction has made you awkward. 

Sukuna slides his hand into yours, pulling you back to the living room where his spot on the couch is still vacant. This time when he sits down, he pulls you into his lap immediately, your back against his chest. Gojo and Geto give each other a knowing look, but no one comments on it. 

As the night continues, you, Sukuna, and his friends stay mostly in the same area, curled into the couch and armchairs of the living room, some football game playing quietly on the tv. Sukuna has only tightened his grip on you, not enough to be uncomfortable, but possessive. You’re cozy — too cozy — and you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. 

You’re shaking the water off of your hands when you hear two girls talking outside the bathroom door. More specifically, talking about you and Sukuna. 

“Sukuna showed up with her? God, I can’t believe he’s still hung up on that same omega.”

Your blood runs cold, your spit turning sour. Fuck, you can’t leave this bathroom. You can’t go out there and be all anyone is talking about. Sukuna is not a romantic prospect for you. Sure, you like him, but he doesn’t see you like that. Just because he’s a little touchy doesn’t mean he’s into you, some people are just like that. You wish you were dumb enough to just get drunk and forget for a while.

You dart out of the bathroom as fast as you can, head down as you speed walk towards the back door, wanting to get a few minutes of fresh air before Sukuna inevitably comes looking for you. Which is immediately, since you’re only outside for about thirty seconds before you hear the screen door open and close behind you. You can smell him, both pheromones and his cologne. 

“You okay, ma?” He asks, taking a fraction of a step closer. You lean forward against the porch railing. There’s no one outside other than the two of you, which isn’t surprising considering it’s January and absolutely freezing, but you hardly feel it. Between the alcohol and the way his voice makes your blood run hot? The cold is the last thing on your mind.

Sukuna slides up next to you, leaning on the porch railing and mirroring your posture. “Something’s bothering you. What happened?” His brow creases, and he looks towards you. “Did someone hurt you? Or say something fucked up?”

You shake your head. “No, nothing happened, I’m fine.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, ma. Seriously.” He turns to face you properly, you stay where you are, looking down at the frosted-over grass. “What’s bothering you?”

“People talk. They- um…” You pick at your cuticles. “I overheard some girls talking, that’s all.”

Sukuna doesn’t say anything, just stays quiet and waits for you to continue. 

“Do you only keep me around because you think I’m hard to get? Is it just that I’m some omega you can’t ignore?” You stop picking at your skin, looking down at the stinging rawness around your nails where the tiniest speck of blood has begun to pool. 

“Do you really think that? Do you actually think I would do that to you?” His voice sounds strained, tight. In your periphery, you see him dip his head slightly, trying, and failing, to get into your line of sight. “If that were true, I would’ve been over it months ago.”

You feel a little nauseous, unsure of whether or not he’s telling the truth, and that only makes you feel even sicker. When did you stop trusting him?

Your name leaves his mouth, his voice desperate and pained. “You don’t even realize what you do to me. God, you have no idea.”

That finally gets your attention, you turn to look at him, surprised and slightly confused. “What do you mean?”

Sukuna hates this conversation, hates that he doesn’t have the words, or the balls, to tell you the effect you have on him, how much power you have over him without even realizing it. The average girl, the average omega, makes him hungry, aggressive, zealous. Not you, no, you make his thoughts quiet, peaceful. He’s actually calm when he's with you. You drive him insane, of course you do, he’d give anything to be inside you and see your usual shyness translate into whatever it is you’re like in bed. But he never expected you to give him the light of day, you’re so out of his league, miles smarter than he is and much more driven, the kind of person that he’d never be, no matter how much effort he put in. 

“I haven’t slept with anyone since I met you, just the thought of it makes me nauseous.” He rasps, practically forcing himself to keep talking even though everything inside him is telling him to shut the fuck up and stop making a fool of himself. “You’re all I think about. You’re all I’ve been thinking about for the past four months since I sat down next to you. And yeah, fuck, I was kind of obsessed with you because I’d never smelt anyone so good before, but it stopped being about that a long time ago.”

His eyes are burning into yours, and he’s panting slightly, largely due to his insanely fast heartbeat. He watches your face, trying to gauge your reaction after his embarrassingly desperate confession, but for once, he can’t read you.

“Oh.” Is all you can say. Your face is flushed, your body hot, and you part your lips to say something, but nothing comes out.

Sukuna drags a hand down his face. “This is weird. Forget I said anything, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

He pushes off of the railing, but before he can get far, you call out to him. “Ryo, wait.” He stills, pausing for a moment before turning to face him. “What does that mean?”

Sukuna takes the smallest step towards you. “I want to be with you. Fuck like, actually date you or something. Anything you’ll give me, just let me try.” His expression is desperate, more so than he even realizes. 

You swallow hard, trying to process everything he’s saying at lightning speed, trying to formulate a response that won’t sound stupid, but all you can manage is a small smile and a quiet, “okay.”

His eyes widen, and he steps even closer to you, mere inches separating the two of you. “Actually?”

You nod, smiling that big, stupid smile that you can never hold back when you’re flustered. “Yeah.”

He finally cracks a smile, a big authentic one, teeth and all, and he dips his bead down to press his lips against yours, properly this time. His hands come to your hips, keeping you steady as he parts his lips and grazes his tongue ever so slightly against yours, eliciting a low groan from deep in his chest. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you and deepening the kiss. Right before you shiver, that is.

Sukuna pulls back, eyes slightly glazed as he looks down at you. You look back up at him, face flushed. “Can we please go inside? I can’t keep pretending I’m not freezing.” You’re already backing him up in the direction of the door as you speak.

He turns you around so you’re leading him back inside, his hand in yours, and he presses a small peck to the top of your head before you get back to where everyone else is. Gojo is passed out on the couch with his head in Geto’s lap, and a bright flash goes off when Shoko takes a picture. 

“Oh! There you are!” Yuji says to you when he sees you, ushering you over to the folding table just a few feet away and away from Sukuna, who trails behind you regardless. “We need a fourth for beer pong, Nobara’s alone.”

“Yuji, dude, leave my girlfriend alone.” Sukuna says, hooking his finger into your back belt-loop to pull you back towards himself, smirking at Yuji’s shocked expression. Sukuna presses your back to his front, leaning his chin on the top of your head and pressing his hand on your stomach to keep you close to him.

Yuji can only sputter in disbelief as he looks between the two of you. “Huh? What… what? When?”

“Like, actually five minutes ago.” You laugh, covering your face with your hand. 

“We’re going to get a drink.” Sukuna announces, pulling you away with him, not to the kitchen, but instead upstairs to his room where he presses you against the inside of his door the second it closes behind you. 

His mouth is on yours immediately, lips parting and tongue darting out to taste you again and again and again. You’re lightheaded even as you kiss him back with equal fervor, pulling at the straps of his tank to tug him closer still. His hand creeps to your lower back, pressing your hips flush to his and pulling the smallest whimper from your lips. He pulls his mouth off of yours, trailing his lips down your neck and nipping at your scent gland, where he sucks a dark hickey. 

You try, and fail, to suppress the whimper that slips out. Sukuna smiles against your skin, pressing the softest peck right on the spot where you know you have a vicious mark. His hands slide to your ass, pulling one thigh up to his hip and using the other to lift you up, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist. The bed creaks slightly when he lays you down against the pillows, kissing the sliver of stomach revealed by your top sliding up.

Sukuna looks filthy when he looks up at you, eyes dark and glassy as he kisses his way up your torso, sliding the fabric of your shirt up with him to reveal more and more skin. He pauses when the material bunches up under your tits, looking up at you expectantly. With a quick nod from you, he pulls your top up and over your head, discarding it off to the side without so much as a glance. His eyes are locked on you, your chest heaving in short-winded anticipation. 

Sukuna kisses up your chest, the valley between your tits, sucking at your collarbone, and kissing up your neck and back to your mouth. Your lips are pliant beneath his, letting him take what he wants. His hips crowd between your legs, pressing just enough to make you jolt. He smirks against your lips, rolling his hips again, this time with more pressure. 

Your hands clutch the hem of his beater with a sharp inhale, and he takes that as an indicator that you want it off. Which is not at all what you were intending to communicate, but you aren’t going to complain when he tosses his shirt on the floor and reveals the tanned, toned, tattooed expanse of his chest. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Sukuna winks, and you roll your eyes with a chuckle and a smile. His hand slips underneath you to unclip your bra, pulling it off and tossing it to god knows where. A low groan leaves him as his hands come up to cup your tits. “Fuck, ma. You’re driving me insane.”

You shiver under his gaze. Sure, you’ve hooked up with guys before — once in high school, twice in your freshman year — but you wouldn’t say you were experienced, not by a long shot. Maybe you’d get away with looking experienced with hand stuff, but definitely not sex. You’ve never had anyone look at you the way Sukuna is looking at you right now, not even remotely close.

Sukuna is trying his absolute best not to cum in his pants like a virgin right now. He tends to pride himself on his stamina, his ability to hold out for a long ass time, but he’s practically trembling right now. Seeing you spread out beneath him, panting on his bed in just your jeans like one of his wet dreams come to life, he’d probably cum if you rolled your hips one more time. 

He takes a shaky breath, desperately trying to seem cool even though he’s anything but. He leans down, pressing a kiss to the valley between your tits and trailing his lips down your stomach, stopping just above the button of your jeans, which he pops open before looking up at you for permission.

You give him a nod, unable to use your words, knowing they’d be nothing but a weak croak. Sukuna unzips your jeans, guiding you to lift your hips so he can pull them down easily. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your panties, pulling them down so quickly that you’re surprised they didn’t tear, and he tosses them to the side like they’ve offended him. 

“God, I’m fucking starving.” Sukuna groans as he puts himself face to face with your pussy, pulling your legs over his shoulders. You jolt when he licks up your slit. He glances up at you to make sure nothing is wrong before he smirks. “Gotta stretch you out ma. Don’t want to hurt you.” 

His mouth latches onto you again, this time sucking lightly at your clit. It’s too much and not nearly enough all at once. You’re entirely unprepared for the bright burst of pleasure from his eager lapping at your slit, his eyes rolling back as he groans into you, the vibrations making you buck against him. 

Sukuna pins your hips down with one hand, the other pressing a finger against your hole, pushing in ever so slightly. It slides in with little to no resistance, though you didn’t anticipate how long his fingers are. 

“Fuck, look at you.” Sukuna’s eyes burn into yours, and the eye contact alone feels more intimate than what’s actually happening between your legs, his finger pumping slowly. You can feel when he slips in a second, the stretch catching you off guard as you gasp. He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh before leaning down and sucking at your clit. 

Your back arches off of the mattress just slightly, enough to get Sukuna to press your hips down firmer, pinning you against his mouth and hand. He takes your eager response as a sign to slip in a third finger, that one eliciting a loud, unguarded moan from your lips. You slap a hand over your mouth, cheeks burning in embarrassment, even more so when his hand that was previously pinning down your hips is now pinning your wrist to the bed. He glares up at you, murmuring against your skin. “Don’t do that again.”

It’s too much, the pressure coiling too tight in your gut, and your free hand threads through Sukuna’s hair, tugging slightly. “God, Sukuna… don’t stop.”

His eyes darken, but still, he pulls away, his lips shiny and glistening with your slick before he licks them clean. His hand withdraws, fingers pulling out of you slowly. 

“W-what are you doing?” You watch him rise back to his knees, hips settling between your legs. “Why’d you stop?”

“Because, ma, I told you not to call me that.” He rasps, leaning over you to whisper right against your lips, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath. 

Shit, right, of course. You look up at him sheepishly, melting into him instantly when he presses a chaste kiss to your lips as he stands up from the bed. His jeans and boxers hit the ground in a split second, his cock slapping against his lower abdomen, already rock hard and dripping pre. 

You swallow hard, looking up at him and mentally cursing yourself for ever getting involved with him. “I don’t mean to stroke your ego or anything but that gargantuan is most definitely not fitting inside of me.” You point at it like it’s an alien, because it kind of feels like it.

Sukuna laughs, a deep, genuine laugh, crawling over you and crowding between your legs once more. He kisses your jaw, then your cheek, then your lips. “You’re so hot when you use big words.”

You swat at him, but you can’t stop the laughter that rises. “Stop trying to distract me- ohmygoddonottickleme!” 

He freezes where his hands are grazing over your ribs, immediately stopping his tickling-assault. “Sorry, ma.” He presses a kiss to the hollow of your throat, rolling his hips once and looking up at you with dopey, hopeful eyes that you know are meant to persuade you. And it pisses you off because it’s working — too well.

A mock frown — more of a pout, really — stretches across your mouth, but it soon fades once he grinds against you once more, the copious amounts of your slick allowing him to slip against you with ease, too much ease. 

Sukuna reaches down, lining himself up and pausing where he’s positioned. “This okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathe with an overly eager nod, but your blood is running too hot for you to be embarrassed about it. 

He runs his hands down your sides, settling them at your hips and pushing in slightly. It’s already more than you think you can handle, but somehow your body is pliant and eager beneath his, allowing him to sink inside almost halfway before you start feeling the stretch. Sukuna leans down, licking a stripe up your neck as he begins to rock his hips slowly, ever so slightly bullying his cock in deeper and deeper until he’s completely bottomed out, his hips pressed flush against yours. 

His head drops to the slope of your neck, his breath hot against your skin in soft pants. His grip is tight on your hips, keeping you completely still. “You okay?” He asks, lifting his head just enough to see your face.

You nod, not even realizing how breathless you are until you speak.  “I’m okay. You?” 

“I’m really just trying not to cum right now.” He chuckles, but it’s a dry, breathless sound. “Just give me a sec.” Your scent has sweetened, intensifying so much it’s making him dizzy.

After a beat or two, his grip on your hips loosens enough for him to grind slowly, somehow probing even deeper. You practically whine beneath him, back bowing off the mattress with each thrust, each one speeding up. 

Sukuna keeps sucking at your neck, hiding his pants by pressing his lips to your skin over and over and over again, occasionally letting out a low groan or a gravelly curse or a desperate moan of your name. He’s huffing your scent gland like it’s a drug, his eyes completely glazed over with each inhale of your pheromones. He’s found a rhythm now, hips pulling back before driving back into yours, each one pulling a sweet sound from your lips and a groan from his own.

You aren’t much better, your nails digging into his skin, raking down his back as he fucks into you, repeatedly pounding into that spot deep inside you without faltering. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before, filthy and needy and yet the most intimate act you’ve ever engaged in. 

Your grip tightens on him with a whine, and you clench around him unintentionally as you feel yourself approach your peak. Sukuna stutters. “F-fuck… fuck, do that again.” 

You do, tightening around him, only pulling him in deeper than before, and you claw at his skin to ground yourself. “Oh my God… Ryo, I’m so close. Don’t pull out.”

Sukuna groans your name, dipping his head to kiss you sloppily, all teeth and tongue and pure desperation. “Are you sure?” He asks, the broken plea leaving him as almost a whimper. “Please ma.” His knot is almost completely swollen now, catching at your entrance with each thrust. Just the thought of knotting you is making his head spin, and the reality of it is almost too much to handle. 

You nod fervently. “Please, Ryo. O-oh fuck”

Your release hits you like a truck, your body tightening impossibly as you pulse around him. You can practically smell it before you actually feel him cum, his scent tinging with the slightest sweetness just before he slams his hips against yours one last time, his knot plugging you up as he cums deep inside you with a broken groan of your name.

His canines ache with the urge to bite, , the sweet scent of your pheromones practically making him drool, but he restrains himself, instead sucking a dark hickey right along your scent gland. You pant beneath him, chest to chest, skin against sweatslicked skin, and look up at him with a dopey smile. Sukuna leans down to kiss you, smiling into it as he rolls your bodies over so you’re laying on top of him, trying his best not to jostle the link keeping you together. 

The two of you lay there for a short while, catching your breath and quietly enjoying the intimacy of being so close together. His hand is firm on your lower back, and he presses small kisses to your lips and face every few minutes. You’ve been tracing shapes on his chest, light enough to make goosebumps rise on his skin before they smooth away. When his knot finally goes down, he lifts you up, being as gentle as possible as he slides his half-hard cock out of you, watching with hazy eyes as his cum dribbles out a little. 

Sukuna stands up from the bed, handing you a t-shirt from his dresser and getting a damp washcloth from his bathroom to clean you up. He heads downstairs briefly, returning with a glass of water for you. The party has mostly died down, everyone having already left or currently leaving, the quiet chatter of his frat brothers and pulse of house music low in the earliest hours of morning.

You watch from the bed, glass of water in hand as Sukuna pulls on a pair of boxers before sliding into bed beside you, plucking the glass from your hand and setting it on the nightstand. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest, his nose buried in the nape of your neck.

--

The two of you don’t wake up until late morning, or early afternoon, depending on who you ask. Sukuna is practically on top of you, face buried in the slope of your neck and one arm draped over your waist. The sunlight is seeping through the gap in his curtains, shining directly in your eyes as you blink blearily. He’s already awake, watching you slowly wake up and curl into him, away from the unforgiving brightness of day. 

You whine, turning your face away from him as he tries to kiss you. “Noooo, Ryo. Morning breath, that’s gross.”

“Don’t care.” Sukuna grabs your jaw, turning your head back to face him and holding it there as he kisses you regardless. He tries to pull you back down when you sit up, but you manage to pry his greedy hands off of you long enough to swing your legs over the side of the bed. He watches in smug satisfaction when your hand darts out to steady yourself as you stand, leaning back against the pillows cockily when you glare at him. He purses his lips, sending an air kiss to you as you head to the bathroom, flipping him off as you shuffle there just to pee. 

When you get back, Sukuna is already dressed, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips and a black t-shirt stretched tight across his chest and biceps. Your clothes are neatly folded on his dresser, and he’s sitting in his desk chair, scrolling on his phone, which he sets down the second he sees you.

“Your stuff is right there.” He says, nodding towards the dresser as he approaches you, large hands dragging down your arms soothingly. “You feel okay, ma?” 

You nod, leaning into his touch just enough for him to press a chaste kiss to your smiling lips. “Yeah. I’m good, really good.”

As you get dressed, Sukuna hovers around you, sneaking slight peeks at your figure while also trying not to come across as a creep. He hands you one of his sweatshirts for you to throw on over your top, knowing you likely wouldn’t want to walk out of the frat house wearing the same revealing outfit from the night before. 

Sukuna doesn’t leave your side as he walks you downstairs, hand heavy on your lower back and car keys jingling in his other hand. He pops his head into the living room, scanning for anyone. Choso’s asleep on the couch under some kind of blanket or pillow or something. 

Sukuna opens the passenger door to his pickup for you, as he always does, and drives you home with his hand possessively on your thigh the entire ride. Music plays softly in the comfortable silence, and you study his profile as he drives. There’s a certain softness to him that you’re now noticing, the usual crease between his brow is smoothed over, his jaw is relaxed, cheeks flushed and the slightest ever smile on his lips. 

He glances at you once or twice as he drives, unable to muffle his smile that matches yours. “What’re you staring at? There somethin’ on my face?”

“No.” You shake your head. “Can’t a girl stare at her boyfriend?”

He pulls into your driveway, parking the truck in lightning speed to lean over the center console and kiss you. He smiles against your lips before dipping his head to inhale your pheromones. “Sweet as always.”

You scoff sarcastically, hopping out of the car and pretending not to notice how he trails behind you to your door. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, arms wrapping around your waist as you squirm to free yourself, trying to unlock your front door.

Before you can get your keys out, the front door swings open and your roommate, Yuki, opens the door. Her jaw is practically on the floor when she points at you, sputtering. “What?”

You sigh with a small chuckle. “Long story.”

a/n: uhhh so mafia/mob boss!choso fic after this sound good to everyone?