It's my first time posting. Sorry for any mistakes. (In case someone actually reads this)
MINORS BEGONE. DO NOT INTERACT.
Summary: The bed breaks while y'all bang like rabbits lmao
Warnings: None, I think. Let me know in case you think otherwise.
The creaking sound loudened as he thrusted into you at an impossible speed. The poor bed sounded like it was screaming with you. Each animalistic stroke of his cock in your tight little cunt drove you closer to insanity. The bed was going to break any moment now, you were sure of it. But you couldn't care. Not when he was fucking you so hard that you could feel each jolt of pleasure like an electric shock coursing throughout your body. And so, the bed falling remained a hazy thought floating into the back of your mind where it belonged. He was groaning into your ear like an animal feasting on its prey. You were close. So, so close. You could taste it. You could feel it deep in your stomach. Every second, every thrust, you screamed and cried. Writhing under his weight with no relief. No matter how much you shook your head or dug your nails into his back, there was just no relief. You just didn't want him to stop pounding you. No, no, no, you could even entertain that thought. And it must have been the same for him. Because he was shouting at this point. Gripping you so hard that it hurt. It was all too much. Between the sound of the skin slapping against skin, his groans and the bed creaking, you were helpless. You couldn't take it anymore.
With a silent plea followed by a choked yell, you came. Waves and waves of pleasure washed over you. The wrenching, numbing sensation started between your legs and spread everywhere until it consumed all of you. Your mind in a bliss. You were too lost. So much that you didn't hear the bed detach from the headboard. Nor did you feel it fall until it crashed against the floor while your orgasm crashed against you. You almost had one practical moment of shock but there was no time, no. it all felt like a dream. The soft mattress underneath you sprung up softly and absorbed all the shock. It threw you upwards gently and sank you back in like you were laying upon fluffy clouds. You felt as if you really were. It was heaven. Your legs were shaking and locking and unlocking around him as if they had a mind of their own and he was still riding you through the orgasm.
You felt sensative. Oversimulated beyond your capacity. You weakly pressed a hand against his chest but you had no energy. He didn't stop. He kept fucking you. Thrusting over and over and over until you were filled up to the brim with his load. Rope after rope, it shot into you. It oozed out of you and spilled all over the sheets, painting your walls white. He let out a loud groan and collapsed into you with all his weight. Loudly beating hearts, breathless pants and gasps for air was all you could hear until the outside sounds began to register. Slowly the voice down the floor of your apartment grew louder and clearer. It sounded like your downstair neighbours weren't too happy.
"Are you people or animals? Keep it the hell down!" the middle aged woman cried at the top of her lungs, "No shame at all!"
ft. none other than, who else, but the golden mf trio (renji, izuru, shuhei) + kensei lol. creds to @sacredwarrior88 for the concept!
cw for entire work: fem reader, modern au, explicit sexual content (you literally called a 'dick-for-order' hotline), explicit language, pet names, oral (f! & m! giving/receiving), creampies, cumshots, + MUCH MORE. read at own discretion. individual scenarios + a gangbang at the end. the receptionist is so done with life LOL.
wc: 1.5k
menu: đš 1. đš2. đš3. đš4. đšbonus
"Hello and thank you for choosing Dick Dash. My name is Shinji; so, what's your type?"
You had to press your free hand over your mouth to stifle a laugh - when your friend Mashiro told you about this, you honestly thought she was joking.
A point was made in your late-night girl talk about the guys at your university being lackluster in the bedroom and being too lazy to satisfy a woman properly.
"U-uhh, my type?" You stuttered dumbly, "you mean like -"
"Dick size, pubic hair, circumsised-"
You cut him off abruptly, "Oh wow, this is kind of embarrassing."
On the other end, Shinji rolls his eyes. He sat up straighter in his chair and removed the toothpick from his mouth.
"And calling a dick hotline in the first place isn't? Come on; I don't have all day, sweetheart."
'Okay, attitude.'
You let out a huffed breath. "Alright, Shinji, I'd like to place an order: "
"-lots of tattoos, dick length 8.5-9 inches, circumcised, good stamina, and cums A LOT."
Your cheeks were absolutely enflamed as you relayed your request to the stranger over the phone.
"My, that's a tall order," Shinji smirked, "I have just the person for you, doll. He'll be right over. Thank you for choosing Dick Dash!"
And he hung up right in your face.
As soon as the phone call ended, your palms began to sweat.
Were you really that desperate for decent dick to go and blindly order it off the phone like you were simply ordering a pizza?
Nervously, you began to pace around your living room, your hands continuously running over your jeans to eliminate the moisture from your palms.
Ding dong.
Well, you're about to get the answer to that question.
You stood on your tip-toes to look out of the peephole. All you could see was...red.
You unlatched the door and a tall, redheaded male - covered in tattoos, just as you'd asked - stepped over the threshold.
His hair almost matched the color of the red polo shirt that he had on.
A giggle bubbled up in your throat at the fact that they had an actual uniform and everything: red polo, black pants, black belt, and a cap with 'DD' in black lettering across the bill.
"Hey cutie, I'm Renji. You called for me?"
Renji had a cocky confident smirk set across his lips.
Then he started unbuckling his belt.
Your eyes blew wide. "W-wait, you mean we do it right now?!"
Renji shrugged, "I mean...I can wait. Just keep in mind that I get paid per 15-minute interval."
"Oh! Well, that's fine then."
For the first thirty minutes, the two of you just talked. Renji was pretty down-to-earth and funny, in all actuality.
You had tears in your eyes from the stupid jokes that he was telling you.
Now those same tears stung your eyes as you kneeled on the carpeted floor of your living room, your knees getting rug burns as Renji fucked your mouth.
"Just like that, baby. Remember to breathe through your nose. Atta girl.." His thighs clenched when you laved your tongue over his balls, right up through the seam separating them.
Heavy, rough hands pressed down further on your shoulders as Renji groaned loudly with his head thrown back.
His cap rested on the arm of your couch and the hair tie that had been holding his hair up had broken earlier due to his rough thrusting. A few maroon-red hair strands lay slicked against his forehead while the rest cascaded down his back.
The feeling of Renji's cock nestled deep in your esophagus had your pussy running rivers onto the soft beige material beneath you, and even more so when he reached down to rub a calloused thumb against your sensitive button.
Your knees shivered and your stomach buckled in, orgasm washing over you in undulating waves.
"Damn babe, you cum just from sucking cock?" His chuckle was strained and throaty as he moved to stroke his fingers over your dripping cunt before pushing two inside.
"Ohh!"
Renji began fingering your pussy at an insane pace that had your toes curling and tears trickling down your face like a fountain.
You placed your hands on his thighs to try and push back from him but he moved his free hand to take a fierce hold of your hair.
"Nuh uh. Take it. Take it and keep my dick in your mouth while you do."
You did as you were told, but it was a struggle. His heavy balls slapped against your neck while pre-cum and saliva dribbled down the sides of your mouth, coating them.
"Fuck! Gunna cum, gunna cum, gunna cum - oh shitttt." A steady stream of ejaculate shot into your mouth - warm and salty - and you gulped it all up like a greedy whore.
Renji held you by the back of the neck and slowly pulled you off of his dick with a soft 'plop'.
"Fuck, that's a talented mouth you have there, babe. Now, how do you want it?"
You werenât so hesitant with your requests now.
"Rough. From the back."
"Nasty," Renji smirked, "bend over."
Your aching knees screamed at you as you then planted them into the rough fabric of the couch.
"Arch f' me, baby."
His hands smoothed over the globes of your ass before he smacked each one, enjoying the way the flesh jiggled beneath his large hands.
Hiking one foot up on the couch and taking his heavy dick in one hand, Renji teased you by sliding the head against your puffy clit.
"Please Ren...put it in.."
"Giving me a nickname already, sweetheart? I must be doing something right."
You were about to ask again when he thrust upwards, then dragged the head through your slippery folds until he was slipping inside your hole.
"Oh God.."
Your head dropped to your hands that were gripping the back of the couch in earnest.
Renji was long and thick; the veins trailing up and down his cock massaged your walls with delicious friction.
"Feeling good, baby girl?" He pressed you into a deeper arch and your mouth fell open.
âY-y-y-â You struggled, stuck on the first letter of the word. Renji chuckled and smacked your ass, jiggling the flesh in his palm.
His brown eyes were transfixed on how his dick was moving in and out of your pussy, your juices covering his length leaving a silky, translucent sheen up to his base and smearing into his red pubes.
âDamn, pretty. Good pussy like this shouldnât have to order dick. If you were my girl, Iâd fuck you good every night.â
Renjiâs large hand cupped your ass cheek, spreading you open wider to take more of his thick length, which left you howling. He wasnât even going that fast, but he was so thick that he could reach all your spots with a few deep strokes.
âYou stopped talking to me, sweetheart. Why donât you tell Ren how good it feels, yeah?â
He sped up his pace, thrusting harder and directly into your G-spot, making you scream out his name in pure bliss.
âRenji!â
Said redhead hummed, moving the fingers of his free hand down to your clit, rubbing it vigorously side to side as his thrusting never slowed. Using his upper body, he pressed you further into the couch cushions.Â
The entire couch banged against the wall from the sheer force of his thrusts. Your neighbors might have something to say about that..
âRenji, please..! Iâm going to c-cum!â
You had never felt anything like this in your young adult life. Seems that the guys on your campus really didnât know how to fuck.
âGo ahead, pretty. Make my day and cum all over this dick.â
Strands of his lustrous, dark red hair stuck against your back as your orgasm hit you like a crashing wave, but Renji didnât stop thrusting; in fact, his thrusts got even faster.
âW-wait!â
There was no waiting when Renji was focused, and right now his focus was getting a second release out of you on top of his own.
âWhat are we waiting for, pretty? This is what you ordered, right? Come on, you didnât think I was done that quick, did you?âÂ
The smirk in his voice was evident as the sly redheaded male quite literally fucked you into the couch. With one tattooed arm wrapped around your middle while the fingers of the other toyed with your sensitive clit, you could feel that same feeling bubbling up in your stomach once again, but more intense.
âGo ahead, and let go for me, babe - oh, holy shit - !â
Renjiâs rough, calloused fingers stroking your clit like guitar strings paired with his rough, rhythmic thrusting caused a stream of liquid to gush from your pussy and soak the cushions of the couch. Good thing you lived aloneâŠ
Your squirting triggered his orgasm and the redhead pulled out just in time to spray his cum across your plump ass cheeks, some of the white strands hitting your upper back and even landing in your hair.
âGood girlâŠâ He cooed, patting you on the butt affectionately as he climbed off of you and headed to the bathroom to get a cloth to clean you up with.
Meanwhile, you lay flat on your belly in the wet spot, attempting to catch your breath.
Renji had righted himself, looking exactly how he did when he first entered your apartment, smirk included.
After paying, you gave an awkward smile and walked him out so he could return to his shift. The thought of him seeing other girls made you just the teensiest bit jealous, but what could you do?
Turning to walk back inside, you heard a soft crinkle of paper in the back pocket of your jeans. Upon reaching into the pocket, youâd pull out a crumpled note:
âThink I might call in sick for the rest of the day. Only thing thatâll make me feel better is a 2nd round ;)â
synopsis: to his annoyance, sukuna has spent the last 100 years searching for youâ tearing apart every corner of the world, trying to find where you had run off to after ending a relationship that lasted over 2 centuries- with just a note. he was going to find you, whether it be the last thing he did. he just wasnât sure whether that determination was driven by the love he surprisingly still had left for you, or the anger heâd grown to have against you. it was you that begged to be turned, after allâ saying you couldnât live without him. well, turns out you could, and you have.
and just when he thinks that maybe it might just be time for him to give up, he sees you casually walking down the lively streets of tokyo, as if you hadnât managed to piss off one of the world's oldest vampires.
cw: smut & angst w/ a happy ending, profanity, blood and violence, lots and lots of yearning on both teams, sukunaâs so mad, klaus coded sukuna, heâs been around for literally forever and heâs too old to be chasing down his wife like this, more to be added (w/c 3.8k)
NOTES: this story as a whole will have flashbacks scenes, some of them will be explained, some won't, but if I do, it'll be in my end notes. I will also be writing little recaps at the end to! so if u want, check them out đââïž
m.list | prologue | chapter one | chapter two
Time is a thief. You blink and a hundred years go by.Â
The note you left him never specified how long youâd be gone for, and itâs a good thing you didnât. Even you didnât know how long your little journey alone would last. Leaving in the dead of night was enough to earn his wrathâ you could only imagine his rage if you had set a date and never arrived.Â
Godâ the fit he mustâve thrown that morning. Some days you feel guilty. Others, you laugh. The vein that tends to protrude from the side of his head when heâs angry had to be massive.
Everything that was said in that note stood true to this dayâ you think of him more than heâd ever know, and you still intend on meeting him again one day. You know you will. It may have been an arrogant way to think, but it was inevitable. The world is simply too small when you have a clock that never stops.Â
But most of all, you truly did hope you could fall in love with him all over again when that day came. To meet him for the very first time again. Experience that same lovestruck awe you felt when you first laid your eyes on him. Watching everything around him dim as the world came to a halt. Foolish and unreasonable, yet so incredibly tender.Â
You craved nothing more in a time when you had begun to grow a resentment he didnât deserve. At least not from you. It didnât matter how cruel he was to othersâ he saved the very little kindness he had left for you, so you left, refusing the last bit of good in him to go to waste.Â
The memories of those you knew before Sukuna steadily blurred until the only thing you knew was him. It was bittersweet at firstâ your younger self wasn't such a fool after all for loving him and giving your life to him. But that changed over time. A statement that once brought you comfort slowly started to keep you up at night. Being haunted by uncertainty while he peacefully slept next to you felt like betrayal.Â
You knew in your heart that all of the what-ifs that clouded over you wouldâve eventually festered into regret, and it wouldâve struck you over and over again until you struck back.Â
He was meant for you to love, not to hate, so you left.Â
It hurt at first. The only thing that made you feel better was knowing you left before you had the chance to harbor even just the slightest of resentment towards him, or towards the time you spent together. It was for the best. Youâre able to remember it was you who chose thisâ hell, you fought for it. Itâs left you with nothing but gratitude.Â
Youâre just hoping he understands that, or at the very least, believes you. Sukuna has proven himself to be quite unpredictable though.Â
Sure, heâs had his moments where heâs proven himself to be wise, as someone as old as him should be. But unfortunately, his ability to hold a grudge is so honed that it can no longer be considered a personality flaw. It is a strength, and from the way he straight up cackles from just thinking about his hatred for certain people, it is also clearly a source of entertainment for him.
So, as much as youâd love to run into his arms and have him spin you around like they do in romance movies, it just wasn't realistic. You'd go as far as to say that expecting any type of normal reaction from him, knowing how absurdly evil he could be, was just putting him in a box. Sukuna wasn't going to let love stop him from chasing after you with a dagger in hand, one that he probably didn't have to think twice about having specially made for the next time he saw you. It'd have some personal touch to it, like your name engraved on the blade, and it would come as a surprise to absolutely no one. He's so fucking psychotic that you just expect that sort of thing from him.
Is that why youâve pushed off going back to him for so long? Maybe.
You really do miss him. Deeply. So much so that it sometimes hurts. Your reluctance to see him again doesnât change that or take away from itâ it doesn't mean you love him any less, either. With that being said, missing a man who redefines what it means to be petty makes the pain from yearning so much more bearable. Especially when youâre convinced that the random chills you get down your spine are from him thinking about you in bad faith.
Which is why youâve preferred to live in small, quiet towns. Itâs harder for an outsider to go unnoticed in one. Easier to watch your back. Easier to run. You were so reluctant to move to the city because of it. Everyoneâs a stranger. Itâs harder to get a read on everyone's intentions, too.Â
Itâs gotten easier over timeâ the initial paranoia has subsided, but that feeling of finally being settled into your apartment never came. Five months in and everything was still too loud, too fast, too bright. You either did too much or too little. Youâve never complained about a place this much, yet this one consistently gives you new things to complain about.Â
Not to mention that after 63 years of painting, youâre just now starting to hate it on your 64th. Just as that threatens to send you into another downward spiral, your phone on the counter rings.Â
Misa. She doesnât even give you a chance to say hello before getting on you about next weekâs exhibit.Â
âHi, Hun.â Sheâs quick, but harmless. âAre you ready for next week?âÂ
âMhm,â you hum, looking back at the canvas in your living room. âThe last piece is almost done. I should be there in a couple of days to drop it off.âÂ
âNoâ you,â she clicks her tongue. âYouâre still attending, right? You said you would this time.âÂ
Her questions met with a long pause, both aware of the excuse youâre having difficulty trying to find. This wasnât your first time flaking out on an exhibit, you were bound to run out of excuses at one point.Â
âI just donât see the point,â you complain. âIâll see everyone elseâs work when I drop my last piece off anyway.âÂ
âThe point is getting out and meeting potential buyers,â she reminds you, clearly fed up with the same excuse. âItâs your pieces that get asked about the most. Donât you think itâs a little sad that youâre never there for that?âÂ
ââŠno,â you respond stubbornly before letting out a little laugh. âItâs not me that theyâre buying.âÂ
âObviously,â she laughs. âItâs still nice getting to know the artist. You canât just come by and sip some wine for an hour?âÂ
The questions met with another pause, making her hold back on a frustrated groan. To her surprise, it doesnât last as long as it usually does, giving her more hope than usual.Â
âOne hour?â You reluctantly ask.Â
âOne hour,â she confirms. âAnd if you donât have fun, you can leave, and Iâll never ask again.â
âPromise?âÂ
âPromise.âÂ
It took another minute or so to get off the phone with her. Given your track record of broken promises, she made you do your own round of promises. Fair enough. The regret hits right as you hang up. Shopping for a dress, getting ready, attendingâ all of it.Â
One hour. It was only going to be one hour.
â
A couple of hundred years is nothing in comparison to how long heâs been around. Living in opulence was all he knew. Wide, open spaces. Nothing but pure gold and ancient artifacts that would never step foot in some museum. Servants scurrying through the halls. It was the standard for as long as he could remember.Â
However, there was a time when he lived simply. It started with you wanting to leave the estate, not even a year after being turned. Of course, he said yes, he always said yes. Before he knew it, you grabbed him by the hand and dragged him all over the worldâ thatâs what it felt like at least.Â
You chose the cities, where you were going to stay, when it was time to leave. Mansions to shacks, deserts to forests, snowcountry to beaches. There wasnât a standard, no requirements.Â
You wouldâve dragged him with you to the moon if you could, and he wouldâve let you. Wherever you were was where he wanted to be.Â
So much time, yet for someone like him, it could be as if he had snapped his fingers, and 100 years would pass. That's how it was supposed to be anyway. He was supposed to go back to his life like nothing had ever happened. Nothing ever does, anyway. Yet, the marble floors were too sleek, the echoes from his footsteps were too loud, and if he focused enough, he could feel the walls of his spacious penthouse begin to close in on himâ all serving as a reminder that he never actually came back.Â
He stayed right where you left him, and for that, he hates you. He couldnât even tell you all that youâve ruined for him because youâve made being found by him impossible. Even with you physically gone, he still can't get rid of youâ your memory has become nothing but a ghost that taunts him. Yes, taunts.
And before heâs able to shove a dagger through your ghostâs heart, like he does on the days it wonât leave him the fuck alone, he hears his assistant coming down the hallway. The only reason why he knows itâs Uraume is that they shuffle instead of picking up their fucking feet when they walk. Youâd think heâd be relieved to not hear his home echo once more, but it somehow pisses him off even more.
âWhat?â He grumbles, not even giving the assistant a chance to knock.Â
Heâs clearly in a mood, so they step into his office and try to make it quick, placing some fancy invitation on his desk in front of him.Â
âYouâve received an invitation from The Hidden Inventory,â they say, as stoic as ever. âTheyâre having an art exhibit next Saturday.âÂ
Sukuna never picks up the invitation, he just continues to stare at it with a mixture of disgust and irritation. âHow the fuck did they get my address?âÂ
âMr. Geto is one of their investors,â they remind him, avoiding any further explanation because he doesn't exactly know either.Â
That somewhat catches his interest, knowing that Suguru was a part of the same⊠community.Â
âSo theyâre selling more than just paintings?â Sukuna finally picks up the invitation and looks through it. Heâs become quite the glutton ever since the-thing-that-no-one âs-allowed-to-talk-about happened.Â
âIâm not certain,â they respond, reaching for their phone. âI can ask, if youâd like.â
Sukuna waves a hand. âNo need, Iâll give him a call later.â
âSounds good,â they nod and grab the other envelope in their hand. Sukuna notices them fighting back a smile, and for once, he is at a loss as to why. âThese photos were taken by one of the newer associates. They were reluctant to share at first, but after taking a look myself, I thought you might like to see this.âÂ
As expected, Sukuna figured out who they were alluding to the moment he heard the word âphotosâ and snatched the envelope out of his assistant's hand. It was more frantic than it was rude.Â
He takes his time, carefully looking through each photo, until he reaches the last one thatâs also the clearest shot.
And he freezes. He didn't tense or lock in place; he just stopped. Every fiber of his being was completely still.Â
Times changed. The hair was different. The style was different. So was the makeup.Â
But it was you.Â
He wasnât angry. He didnât feel the hatred that he swore he felt for you just minutes ago. Not even sadness. Something in him just ached knowing that he knew absolutely nothing about you.Â
âWhere?â He finally speaks up, never looking up from the photo. âIs she here?âÂ
âYes, sir,â Uraume responds, trying to recall all the details the new associate had given them. âThe photos were taken downtown.â
âAnd the person who took these didnât think to follow her?â He asks dryly.Â
âIt was mentioned that she was overly aware of her surroundings, Sir,â they say apologetically. âIt wouldnât have been long before she noticed. He figured it was best to take the photos and go from there.âÂ
Fair enough. Although he could take a guess at why you were like that in the first place.Â
âAlright,â he hums, looking back at the photo. âFind everythingâ where she works, where she lives, where she hangs out, everything. I donât care if itâs something small like her having a pet cat, I want their fucking name too.âÂ
âWill do, Sir,â they bow one last time before making their leave. âI will keep you updated throughout the day.âÂ
âGreat.âÂ
Once the door fully shuts, he goes back to looking at the photos, as if it would help you feel more real. Memories that came flooding back, even the little details he didnât think were important enough to remember. And yet, even though you two spent more time together than without each other, the girl in the picture still felt like a stranger.Â
He thinks about all the time you spent together, all the times he held you, and maybe it wasnât the right time to think about it, but he thinks of all the times he used to fuck you. How heâd fuck you.Â
He wasnât good with words, so he spent his time showing it. Were the memories enough to carry on into your next life?Â
Given how it was probably your fourth or fifth life by now, he stops himself right there. The answer to his question was pretty clear, and it fills him with the same resentment heâs spent years living with. So he takes the photos and shoves them in his drawer, once again wishing you had just written a simple âIâm leavingâ in your note, instead of all the bullshit you wrote about loving him and making your heart grow fonder.Â
It wouldâve saved both of you unnecessary trouble.Â
â-
Watching you look at a map was all he needed to know that it was time to get ready to leave.Â
âItâs only been 3 months,â he chuckled, taking a seat beside you on the bed, while you lay on your stomach trying to study the damn thing. âYou donât like it here?âÂ
You shake your head. âItâs too hot. I wanna go somewhere cold,â you say, pointing towards one of the countries on the map. âWhat about here?âÂ
âItâs colder than here,â he shrugs, pointing at a different place instead. âAll of the snow and the rain is gonna be around here, though.âÂ
âOkay,â you hummed, looking back at the area he pointed to and reading all the different namesâ completely oblivious to the way he's looking at you.Â
Hungry. Not one holy thought is going through his head.Â
âYou sure itâs too hot?â He asks, placing a hand on the back of your thigh and giving it a light squeeze. âBarely got any clothes on, is this not good enough?â
âNothing's good enough,â you scoff. The complaint elicits a laugh from the man. You move to lie on your side, propping your head up on your hand. âIâm serious. Iâm all sweaty, I canât take it anymore.â
âSweaty, huh?â He murmurs, running his hand all the way up your leg and squeezing your hip. âCanât have that.âÂ
âNo,â you suppress a laugh, trying not to pay too much mind to the way he starts playing with the waistband of your shorts. âThatâs why weâre leaving.âÂ
âAnd weâre never coming backâ look at what this fucking place is doing to you.â Heâs just pretending to be outraged with you at this point, all while giving your shorts a tug. He hums, âThese damn shorts arenât helping either.â
âItâs not the shorts, itâs the weather,â you argue back.Â
âI knowâ you look like youâre about to cry. Barely have anything on and itâs still too much,â he laughs, hooking his fingers around your waistband again, but this time waits.Â
âYouâre so annoying,â you respond, having to hold back a smile from how fucking determined he was. But he noticed and started pulling them down with a satisfied hum, and threw them to the side somewhere.
âAnd look at how wet that makes you.â He presses two fingers against you, spreading your slick up and down your folds, earning himself a soft gasp. âFeels good, huh?âÂ
And you try to answer, but your words get caught in your throat when he presses harder and rubs faster.Â
âSo fuckinâ messy,â he murmurs, landing a light slap on your clit before rubbing over it again. âMmmmâ what do you want, princess? Want me to keep going, or do you want something else?â You donât answer right away, too focused on the big fingers that were running through your folds, which he only made worse by going faster. âThereâs also my tongue⊠my cockâŠâÂ
âMmh, please,â you respond, way too fast.
âYeah?â He taunts you, clearly pleased by how eager you sounded. âWant me to fuck you?âÂ
âYes,â you respond, way too giddy.Â
Everything happened so fast after that, one moment youâre saying yes.
Then the next, you're getting fucked stupid.
He held you against his chest, and all you could hear were the brutal snaps of his hips as he hit all of the spots that drove you crazy over and over again. Heâs in your ear the entire timeâ saying how good you were taking him. Telling you how fucking hard he was going to make you cum, and talking you through it when he did.
And just when you thought he couldnât hit any deeper, he hooked your leg over his arm and bullied his cock into you until you came so hard that you nearly sobbed.Â
At one point, he took a break from whispering things into your ear. You thought it was to kiss you, but all he did was drag his tongue up one of your tears.Â
And as you sniffled, all he murmured in your ear was, âmâsorry.â
He wasnât. He never once stopped fucking you throughout any of it. And when he finally did, you were hot and sticky and limp against him. He gave you a quick peck on the cheek, which was sweet, though you believe you deserved more for having your soul shot out of place. But, itâs as romantic as he gets.
It took you a while to understand which actions and words replaced âI love youâ. But that night was probably one of the first times it actually clicked.
âDone being a crybaby?â
âNot if you start making fun of me again,â you murmur back.
He softly laughs, moving some hair out of your face, âI just wanted to see your face, Iâm not gonna make fun of you.â
You turn over and let him. Neither of you said anything for a momentâ he just continued to move some hair out of the way, while you watched him. You were surprised that he felt okay with you just staring at him like that, but his expression never hardened. Throughout that short-lived moment, he was still, allowing himself to be the admirer instead of the protector he had grown to become.Â
His thumb grazed over your cheek as he tried to put the thought he was having into words.Â
âYou just showed up at my house one day,â he said, almost to himself.Â
âI did.â You couldnât help but smile. As simple as it was, it was true. âYou thought I was a pest, too.â
âYou used to undress me with your eyes,â he scoffed, still clearly appalled at all that he let you get away with. âDo you regret it?â
âNo,â you swore, shaking your head. And then you smile, âYou look better naked than I had ever imaginedâ ow,â your hand dramatically shot up to your head. âYou said youâd never hit me!â
âIt was a forehead flick,â he chuckles, grazing his thumb over your cheek once more. âI didnât strike you.â
âRich people always find loopholes.â You try to keep a straight face as you say it. He, of course, argued with you because that was just how stubborn people were, but the innocent bickering died down after a couple of minutes. By then, you were finally able to answer his question. âWhat do you mean by regret?â
â...You know,â he grumbles. âShowing up to my house one day.â
âOf course not.â The question almost made you laugh, thinking you had already made it clear by now. âIâm what? 130 years old now?â
â163 years old, actually.â He was way too quick to correct you, but you let it go.
âThanks,â you chirp out. âAnyways, Iâd be dead by now if I hadn't met you. I enjoy my life. So no, I donât regret it. Is that something you worry about?â
He finally takes his eyes off of you then, which was all you really needed to know. You figured itâs the reason why he even asked you in the first place.Â
âI donât know if itâs a worry.â He reluctantly admitted. âBut if it were true, Iâd feel guilty.â
It made sense. All the ones before you were sworn into some weird secret society and were devoted to him. They all had a purpose, easy to dispose of. You, on the other hand, didnât serve himâ there werenât any rules you could break for him to dagger you.
Ah. So thatâs what it was. It was easy for him to dagger others. You, heâd feel the guilt he talked of.
âWell⊠I could see why you think about that sometimes, but I donât think Iâd ever regret choosing you, or this,â you say, gesturing to yourself.
âWonderful,â he chuckles in relief, before casually saying, âbecause if I had to dagger you? I would make Satan's fall from grace look like a childâs birthday party.â
âHow concerning,â you dryly say.
âAbsolutely,â he hums. âI meant everything I said in that letter I gave youâ keeper of my heart, all the good thatâs left of me. Youâre mine.â
The last thing you expect to dream of is an actual memory you once had with Sukuna. This was your first one in... ever. It may not have been technically real, but it felt real. It was youâre first time seeing him in over 100 years. Explains the tears that you woke up with in your eyes.
Youâre mine.Â
So utterly possessiveâ yet it never bothered you. Even when you were his, he never made you feel like a possession.Â
And now you ache.Â
What a fucking joke. The dream couldnât have been on a day that you didnât have to attend some stupid event? What luck. Not like you could expect itâ you were a vampire, not a fucking fairy.Â
One hour.Â
Then you get to go home and be sad about the stupid dream. Maybe grab âdinnerâ on the way home, too. For old times' sake.Â
notes: ok so quick recap! both reader and sukuna's pov's. reader is a painter, hence why sukuna hasn't been able to fine her bc when the fuck has she ever been interested in that?? the random chills she gets down her spine are from sukuna having homocidal thoughts about her đ and reader has a little intuition thing with sukuna, so she gets the chills down her spine whenever he gets mad all over again, and he was wondering if she ever thought about him (she does), but his thoughts kinda sent her that dream of the past. it being a sex dream is not a coincidence. and yaaaaa, reader woke up on the day of the art exhibit, so we will see if sukuna ever shows up đââïž could you imagine having a sex dream about your ex and then seeing him that same day??
pornstar!toji, who youâre paired up to shoot a video titled âAMATEUR GIRL GETS DESTROYED BY MONSTER COCKâ with. it only takes one good look at him to know that the title isnât clickbait in any way. there were men who were well-endowed, sure, but toji? heâs something else entirely. heâs fucking huge, thick, mean-looking, and just the sheer size of him alone is enough to help you understand why heâs in such high-demand within the industry.
pornstar!toji, who notices your wide-eyed stare and just grins cockily back at you. heâs seen this look before, from other amateurs much like you, a tad naive and a little too young to know what theyâre really getting themselves into. thatâs alright, he thinks, he quite enjoys the look on your flustered face, and his mind is already picturing the way youâll be crying under him as he splits you open on his cock later.
pornstar!toji, whose eyes drag over you like a present heâs excited to unwrap on christmas day. âdonât worry, sweetheart,â he promises with a filthy smirk, âiâll pop that little on-camera cherry for ya.â heâs arrogant, laughing under his breath when you shift on your feet, already squirming and playing your role perfectly without the cameras even running.
pornstar!toji, whoâs in for a fucking shock at the way you take him with complete ease. heâd expected tears, a few pleas to tap out early, but youâre a natural at this â a real performer, if heâs ever seen one â sinking down on his cock with a muted gasp and then grinding down on him like youâre trying to milk him bone-dry. âholy shit, princess,â he mutters, and no one bothers to stop him even though heâs clearly veered off script.
pornstar!toji, who flips you over and shoves you face first into the couch, desperately trying to regain control. his borderline inhuman ability to last on set is something that every other male performer is lowkey jealous of, but that restraint is now being tested to the limits at the way your cunt grips him, soaked and hungry for every thrust he delivers.
pornstar!toji, whoâd meant to make you cry and writhe beneath him, now finding himself struggling not to bust too early with every ragged breath you draw out of his body. youâre fucking perfect, the best heâs ever had, and now heâs biting back groans because your pussy feels like sin incarnate and he didnât plan on being shown up by a supposed amateur.
pornstar!toji, who knows heâs done for when heâs spilling inside you with a low moan and opens his eyes to see you returning the same cocky smirk he gave you at the beginning of the scene. he doesnât even need to be told â he already knows. he knows the video is actually going to be titled âAMATEUR DESTROYS TOJI FUSHIGUROâ, and he canât even be mad about it, because itâs true.
Toji knows that you don't ever hide your emotions with him, but he can't help but think that you can't feel embarrassment. Your outfits and demeanor are flashy enough for anyone to know that you don't care what others think.But you can't help but feel that forbidden emotion when you're out with Toji today. You thought it would be a fun day, the both of you wandering around the mall for hours, knowing that your paycheck didn't come in yet and the two of you would leave with nothing but a slushie. Or so you thought. Because when you step away to go to the bathroom, Toji's approached by a girl. When you're finally back from the bathroom, the two of them are chatting about the ladybug keychain you gifted him. You normally wouldn't have cared about him talking to anyone, but the two of them look too good next to each other. Like they're a couple and you're an outsider standing in on their conversation. You have to clear your throat to catch the attention of the two, and when she stares at you, your face burns hot. Of course you decided to go out makeup-less and in your pajamas on the day an undercover supermodel is in front of you. She's gorgeous, she's well-dressed.And the thing that made it all worse is she didn't turn her nose up to you, she didn't scoff or act disgusted at the idea that Toji would ever be with someone like you, but she smiles at the two of you, before bidding you both a good day. And it infuriates you. Because all you can think of yourself is how perfect she is. How you would have much rather she made a rude comment toward you, than be the bigger person. And of course, you want to get out of the mall as soon as possible, explaining to Toji that your head suddenly hurts.
The car ride home is silent, and Toji doesn't once ask you if your ok, and your throat can't help but feel dry. When he finally stops in the driveway of your apartment complex, rain pattering on the ground. You barely wait in the car to stop before you're rushing out, slamming the door being you. You were hoping he would yell at your to go easy on his car, but he doesn't.You don't feel his steps behind you and when you finally make it up stairs and look back, he's too busy staring at his phone to have even noticed the space between you two.You can't help but rush down the hall and fall face first into bed once the door finally unlocks. You were trying to pull yourself into sleep, but you couldn't help but let the tears falls. When the door to the bedroom finally cracks up, you bite your bottom lip, trying to halt any noise that would alert Toji of the fact your crying. All you can think to yourself is how stupid you'd sound trying to explain to him why you're upset. And when the bed sinks next to you, your heart almost jumps out of your chest. A few seconds pass, before you feel his hand rubbing against your back in circles. And before you know it you're sobbing. It's loud and ugly, just like the rain outside, but it's much needed. Toji knows you like the back of his hand, he knew from the moment your eyes drooped and you began biting down on your lip you were upset. That there was no headache.
An while Toji's certain you don't feel embarrassed, he's sure you feel jealousy. He knows your self-aware. And he knows far too many times you gathered boxes of your clothes and room decor in boxes to donate, but you could never go through with it. Cause as much as you love being yourself,as happy as you feel in your skin, sometimes you wished you were someone else. Someone pretty. Someone simple. He keeps rubbing circles on your back until your sobbing and tears stop. Until the rain outside had long dried up and the sun was starting to set. And Toji's thinking that he has his own faults, that his not good when it comes to talking with you. That he should be able to comfort you with more than just his touch. He finally lies down, legs asleep from sitting beside you for hours. He smiles are you resting face. Your face is stained with dried tears and you eyes have puffy bags, but he still can't help but press a kiss to your nose,before letting sleep pull him in.
Heâs not capable of love. Sukuna is far beyond that line between human and monster, lusting only for bloodshed, not foolish women. He was a drifter, never in his home, travelling only with Uraume by his side and ravaging as many villages as he so pleased. He enjoyed that life. It was the only thing that truly brought him joy.
When he had met you, you had immediately captured his attention.
In his era, he had yet to meet a sorcerer capable enough to stand up to him. With his four arms and multiple mouths, he whispered incantations before his enemies could move an inch. He remembered the day vividly simply because he felt like shit. Wracked with boredom, he did what he does best. Pillaging, of course.
You stood at the foot of the entrance to your village, staring down upon the wreckage with agony. God, he loves that expression. It sends pleasurable tingles down the expanse of his spine, makes his hair on his arms stand on edge.
When you saw him, you didnât hesitate. Sukuna will be the first to admit he was not expecting a woman to be a sorcerer. You had surprised him. Caught him off guard with the wrath in your eyes, the swift movement of your fingers while manipulating jujutsu.
The two of you had battled for hours, a constant back and forth, destroying the land around you in a fifty kilometer radius in the process. It was⊠exhilarating. Sukuna hadnât felt satisfied like that since he was a child beating a soldier in a fight for the first time.
And to top it all off, you could keep up with him. When he thought he had finally defeated you, you smiled, ready to keep going.
He knew, then, that he had to have you by his side.
It took patience. Sukuna didnât have a lot of it, but he used what little he had to project onto his plan. He wreaked havoc on everything he saw simply for the chance to see you, for you to show up and try to stop him. It worked a few times. More often than not he ended up leaving emptier than he entered.
You started to show up more frequently. He figured you were doing the same. Too caught up in the taboo to truly accept him as your king. But he knew you wanted him too. Could tell in the way you moved around him, like some twisted dance. You looked at him differently than that first time. Longingly.
He switched tactics completely and decided to make a deal with the old bastards of the Heian jujutsu society.
You, in exchange for temporary peace.
They took the deal like hungry rats.
You argued with him for the first few weeks. Constantly bickering back and forth, throwing shit at him, trying to pick fights. He ignored it for the most part. Sometimes when he had nothing else to do he would egg you on, intentionally pissing you off for his own entertainment. He liked the twitch in your brow, how quickly you would quip back.
Eventually you calmed.
He learned more about you, then. Watched you paint the landscapes that surrounded his manor, tend to the garden that was now flourishing under your care. His servants took to you quickly. Uraume even faster.
However, instead of anger, you now treated him with indifference. That, in Sukunaâs mind, simply wouldnât do.
And he did everything.
After his hunt, he brought his finest kill out to the shed in the back. Knife in hand, he skinned it, curing and cutting the leather and tending to the fur. It would take days, but he felt pride when he saw you sleeping in the soft and plush furs that he made with his own four hands. He would deny it when Uraume would confront him about it.
It wasnât enough.
He brought you clothing made of the finest silks and jewellry that sparkled under the sun. Glimmering junihitoes in all different colours, necklaces, earrings, and rings. All from villages he had previously ravaged, of course, but thoughtful nonetheless. You didnât accept them, throwing them to the back of your closet and choosing to instead wear your villageâs local attire.
He gave you every food you could possibly want. Dishes from all over Japan laid out at your table every night. Most nights you ate, which gave him a feeling he didnât quite know how to place. If he tested his luck that day with your temper, he was left stranded alone in the massive dining hall.
Sukuna brought you to gorgeous sights around the country. Being from a small town, your experience was mostly limited to your village. He revelled in the marveled look in your eye when you laid eyes on mountains, forests, and cities beyond your wildest dreams.
He liked that in those moments, you spoke to him as well. Forgetting all about your supposed hatred for him and opting to share your every thought. Sure, he didnât really reply. He was too proud. But it stroked something in him that he didnât know was there, and still refused to admit.
Your paints had never run dry. Your garden was never left without tools. Your favourite spot to read was never exposed to the sun. The path that you walked every morning and drank tea upon was always tended to.
He wondered when these spots in his life became yours.
You began to talk at him. Telling him about your feelings, your childhood, your wants. He would sit quietly and listen. Usually it happened during his daily tasks, so he never said anything in return. You began to greet him every single time you saw him, forcing him to walk with you on your morning walks.
He had never thought the words âGoodnight, Sukunaâ could make him feel the way they did. Your voice was like windchimes hit by a gentle breeze. Refreshing. Relaxing. He could feel his tense muscles loosen the second he saw your figure in the distance.
He invited (forced) you to train with him. It wasnât really training. Sukuna didnât need to train. He was already the strongest. Sometimes he just fucked around for fun, and this time he brought you along. You bickered and fought the whole way, and really fought once you hit his training grounds. It was an empty field, surrounding greenery scorched and cleared by his flames.
When he had finally managed to pin you down, time stopped. Your heavy panting, his chest heaving. The sweat trickling down your skin warm under his palms. Your airy pants slipping down your hip ever so slightly.
The expression on your face was burned into his mind for days.
You had stopped wearing anything other than red. Began to doodle him while you watched him do tasks around the estate. He knows only because he found the papers in your room while he definitely wasnât snooping. Every single day you sat closer and closer to him during meals in the dining hall. He had become used to your presence beside him, much like Uraumeâs.
Looking back, you were his long before he ever asked you to be.
The ground was covered in snow when he finally did. There was no wind, no disturbances as he watched the snow fall that day. It had been a shit day. An anniversary. He was perched on a rock under the canopy in your garden. He heard you before he saw you.
âRyomen?â You had murmured, a hand on his shoulder.
Not too long ago, he wouldâve slaughtered anyone who dared call him by that name. With you, he craved it. Unwillingly leaned into your touch against his better judgement. That was the first day he had opened up to you. About his childhood as a monster, his mother, his shithead father. It was the anniversary of her death.
You had listened patiently. Looked at him softly. He hated it. Loathed how you made him feel, what you turned him into. He was a beast. A monster. With you, for the first time in his life, he didnât feel like a demon. He felt like a man. And it was frightening.
What was even more terrifying was how much he craved it. He looked at you then, really looked, and came to an awful realization. He didnât want anyone else to see you in your most vulnerable. He wanted to be the only one to see you happy, to see you devastated, and everything in between.
Sukuna wanted you. Not your status by his side, or your power. Just you.
He had told himself he wouldnât ask. He knew for a while that you had been inching closer and closer to him. Knew what you really wanted. The stubborn part of him wanted you to confess. Numerous nights, he laid in bed sleepless, committing to the fact that you would be begging for him. And he wouldnât give you what you wanted unless you asked on your knees with a pretty face.
But this was almost more humiliating than he could have imagined. His enemies would point and laugh at his weakness if they could see him.
Sukuna took your hand, more gently than heâs ever held anything in his life. Fighting back the urge to cower, to run, he asked you to be his and only his.
And you had accepted.
You had asked to be married rather than just a couple. It didnât matter to him regardless, so he agreed. Marriage was futile and inconsequential to him, but apparently he had to take your feelings into account as well now.
You had married under budding sakura trees. There was no documentation, no witnesses. Neither of you had families to preach your social status and unity. Just the two of you, as it always was and would be. While he approached the whole ordeal with a stubborn frown, Sukuna would never forget the smile on your face.
He would also never forget the day he laid you down for the first time in his chambers. The taste of your bare skin, how you clawed at his back. The sound of you begging for something, anything, while he rested his forehead atop your own. Candles had illuminated your sweat-soaked skin, you were glowing in his eyes.
He was by no means an easy husband.
Sukuna was crass, sometimes downright cruel. He intentionally tried to piss you off because he thought it was the funniest thing in the world. He liked to poke and prod, and wouldnât stop unless you gave him a very unfriendly smack.
He still ran rampant against your best wishes, ravaging villages and toppling cities, killing innocent people. When people came to his estate to beg for mercy, you sat by his side as he laughed. He would never change, hadnât in the past and wouldnât now with the addition of you in his life. But you accepted that, accepted him.
Despite his flaws, Sukuna had also learned how to hold, how to cherish. He was a man of actions, not of words. You had never been left to want for anything. If you even thought of it, it was yours. No gentle whispers of his name needed, although it did help sway him a little when it was something hard to obtain. He sat beside you as you engaged in hobbies. Listened when you spoke (sometimes). Indulged in your impulsivity for travel and tasks.
Sukuna had bigger dreams. He wanted more, more life, to conquer more land, to kill more people. He knew, though, that of all of his desires, you were his greatest.
Until the very end of your short time with him, Sukuna had never said âI love you.â
He was angry. He had no one to blame. You had died of natural causes a mere few years after your marriage. Uraume was beside him the entire time, but he refused to take any type of support. It was just who he was.
As he sits in front of your grave, ready to start his mission of becoming a cursed object, he hopes that he sees you in every lifetime going forward. He doesnât doubt that he would recognize your soul no matter the face it belonged to.
i love words like âacquireâ and âacquitâ etc⊠itâs such a treat to see c and q together like that. theyâre such an odd couple. itâs like if you were in high schoolÂč and one day you saw the blonde overachiever valedictorianÂČ hanging out with the weird friendless goth girl with the siouxsie siouxÂł hair and you realized theyâd been childhood friends all along
Âč stage of education in the united states, commonly portrayed in a romanticized manner in films and tv shows.
ÂČ untranslatable; a type of warrior-priest.
Âł english singer who was an important figure in the emergence of the gothic rock genre in the late 1970s.
⊠jock!sukuna being cleaned up by scared reader - pt 1 here ïŸ eighteen plus, dub-con, dead dove, humiliation, degradation, jealousy, sweatplay (?), literal facefucking, angst.
Sukuna said he didnât care.Â
Passively brushed off the sly comment Toji had made about you with nothing short of indifference, the singular thought dissipating from his mind like curled smoke tendrils turning to the atmosphere almost as soon as it arrived.
That was until he saw you laughing after practice with the guy. Ducking your head as a flit of giggles left your lips, Toji leaning over you and grinning to himself like heâd just said the funniest fucking thing in the world.
He knew Toji, and he knew he wasnât that funny.
But what struck him was that you werenât cowering awayâwerenât scattering like light in the deemed darkness Sukuna carried with him.
Pride shouldâve been swelling in his chest, unadulterated arrogance that only he made you feel such a way, blenching from him like he was your sole phobia.Â
But still, his jaw ticked under the unalloyed pressure of irritation. Heâd never utter such a possibilityâbut disgusting, green jealousy was slithering into his mind.
â
âHowâd you find your present?â
Your fingers swiftly curled around the bevel of the propped refrigerator door with a concrete pressure, feeling your throat closing up at the sound of your tormentor's voice.
A low and gravelly laugh left Sukunaâs lips as he cocked his head to the side, watching as you slowly shut the small door and turned around. You could never hold prolonged eye contact, only peering up while you racked your brain for a response.
âSpeechless, huh? Had I known you cherished it so deeply, I wouldâve gifted it to you long ago.â
You began to fidget with the hem of your top, completely aware of how you were just collateral damage for Sukunaâs ever-present ego, thinking up a way to get yourself out of this. âToji didnât say anything about you coming,â you muttered, nearly imperceptible.Â
Sukunaâs grin faltered, though you couldnât even notice with the way your eyeline was trained on your sneakers.Â
There it was. Toji. Again? Itâs just cruel that you're rubbing how close you seem to have gotten to his frat brother right in his face. âItâs my fucking frat house. Why wouldnât I be here?â
You felt your heart stutter at the raise of his voice, the high-strung tension palpable enough to feel between your twitching fingers. You never were one to enjoy yelling, feeling tears threaten your waterline.
Toji only invited you to watch a couple of films with a small gathering of friends since finals week had just concluded, opting to bridge the gap between your social ineptitude. Toji watched your hesitant gaze flicker towards a volatile, pink-haired man on the field at the time. He quickly cut in at your reluctancy, reassuring you of the expected turn-out and making it clear that Sukuna wouldnât be there.
Though, he hadnât expected the guy to come back early from the gym that night.
Sukuna pushed air through his nose, claret irises catching the way your feet shuffled backwards and your eyes slightly widen in genuine terror. He sighed, threading a hand through the vertical tear in the side of his muscle shirt to run his fingers across his hardened and sweat-slicked abdomen. âWell, when youâre done blubbering like a fucking idiot, come to my room,â he scoffed, turning on his heels and stomping out of the kitchen.
You gasped like youâd been held underwater for minutesâoxygen rushing to fill your thinned out lungs, hands flying to grip the edge of the kitchen counter while you caught your breath.
Did Toji lie? Was he helping Sukuna trap you in his snare like an unsuspecting rabbit?
You were clawing at your chest, a rock resting heavy on your heart as you carefully thought out an escape plan. For one, you were on the first floor, so Sukuna couldnât pounce on you if he was in his room. You could easily slip out of the front door, unnoticed, and make some feeble excuse to Toji come Monday.
And you did just that, tiptoeing past the strobing lights and boisterous laughter erupting from the living area where the small group was watching some shoddy comedy slasher film, one you were enjoying just moments ago before Sukuna came throttling himself like a rock into your steady, predictable orbit.
As expected, you still werenât over what happened back in the janitor's closetâwhen you quickly hurried to the bathroom to come down from your harsh high and had to wipe away Sukunaâs cum dripping down your thighs and staining your sweats.Â
Thereâs been zero indication as to why Sukuna cornered you as of late, but you didnât want to stick around any longer to find out.
âPansy thought she could outsmart me.â
You stilled, mid-step, eyes latched to the front door as Sukunaâs voice grated behind you once again.
He didnât waste a moment hearing out your excuses when youâd pathetically fumble over your words as your shoulders heaved, instead dragging you by the forearm straight up the stairs.
He padded down the dim hallway, shoving a door open and unceremoniously pushing you inside. Your foot caught on something heavy, tripping forward, effectively sent directly towards his mattress.
Your face mushed into the fabric, the heady scent that was undeniably Sukuna invading your senses as you awkwardly pushed yourself right-side up.
âWhoops,â he sarcastically chuckled at your flailing limbs, peering at the massive neoprene handheld weights scattered across the ground. âThe gym was busy, so I thought Iâd just stay in for the night.âÂ
It was true, there had to be a ton of people getting back on their gym grind after finals. Yet, the sight when heâd got home was even more jarring. He caught you geeking beside Toji on the couch, completely unaware of the predatory eyes fixed on you from the dark of the corridor.
But now heâs got you all to himself, he can deal with Toji later.
You were barely listening to Sukuna as you adjusted your baggy zip-up, fingers curled in the fabric to regain some semblance of your sanity in your frayed psyche.
âSit.â He commanded.
You met his eyeline, lips parting slightly at his dark tone, but promptly shut them as your bottom hit his mattress, your body acting at his will.
âOn the floor,â he continued, jutting his chin to the oaky laminate.
You found yourself slowly sinking to the ground, eyes dialled in on the stocky, formidable man before you. Your knees knocked as they pressed into the hard floors.
His lips curled at the edges as your kneecaps met the ground right before him, your hands fisting at your sweats, gaze downcast as if you were kneeling before the altar.
He tossed his hands behind his back, swiftly tugging his damp muscle tee over his head and discarding it on his bed.
Your eyes carried upwards, curious orbs catching on the sinful dips and curves of his abdomen that dripped with perspiration, your saliva glands working overtime at the drooling sight.
âLike what you see?â He snarled from above, tilting his head with arrogance. He reached down to grab a set of weights that were bigger than your head, working on curling his biceps brachii.Â
You nodded dumbfoundedly, lips parted ever so slightly, mind muddling over with how tight it looked.
He huffed a sound derisive to a laugh. âLetâs put that tongue to use, then.â
Your gaze met his in mild confusion, swallowing thickly as you once again treaded in dangerous territory.
He rolled eyes, head tilting towards his abs. âClean me up.â
Your chest heaved with the implication, training your gaze on his hardened abs, something disgusting coiling in your chest.
Sukuna tossed his head back, the corded veins in his forearms rippling with the rep he was completing. âGod, pansy. When are you gonna put your fucking big girl pants on andâ?â A stifled gasp left his lips as warm muscle dragged up his pink happy trail, gaze dropping to where your body connected to his.
Your fingers, still shaking, were now curled around his waistband to steady yourself. You were pushed up on your kneecaps, face digging into his stomach as you lapped at his tan skin.
A shudder washed over Sukunaâs skin at the sight, nearly dropping the weights in his hands to the ground, toes curling in his socks.
He was salty, the wet taste defiling your tastebuds, but something in you worked to clean him up, even as his bulge pressed against the mounds on your chest.
You forced that out of your mind, nails nearly digging into the flesh of his waist, digging your tongue between every nook and cranny you could, leaving sticky and damp saliva in your trail.
Sukuna tossed his head back in pure bliss, hands finally gaining strength as he moved to continue his set. He had to huff out counts just to distract himself, the little minx before him leaving languid stripes that made his chest cave in want.Â
God, he didnât even need to fuck you to nearly cum in his shorts, face contorting in pleasure as all blood rushed south.
Your hands moved away from his waist, now pawing at his bare skin, as if the scaredy cat you once were couldnât get nearly enough of his taste.
âFuck it,â he groaned impatiently, dropping the weights beside him onto the ground with a violently loud thump! that nearly had you jumping out of your skin. You pulled away for a second to see what had him cursing under his breath.
But thatâs when you felt something warm and thick hit the side of your face, flinching, lashes dusting the rounds of your cheeks for a moment, before you met the culprit that just slapped you.
âYouâre disgusting,â Sukuna muttered with a groan, wrapping his fingers around the base of his cock and stroking it right before you, crimson eyes narrowed and dissecting your stark reaction.
He just hit your face with his dick.
If Sukuna had a better mind, heâd fuck your confusion away, but right now all he could think aboutâŠ
âCâmere,â he grunted, as if he couldnât take a step closer to bridge the gap.
You complied with quivering lips, knees shuffling forward until his weeping length was mere millimeters from your heated cheeks.
He ran his tongue over his lower lip, pumping himself with slow reverence. âYou want a taste?â He quizzed, as if the guy was holding a spoon full of cake before you.
You hesitated, words dying on your tongue, brain fuzzy with shame and terror.
He clicked his tongue in disappointment, and before you knew it, he pressed his cock against your face with no warning. Sprawling his massive around your face with his appendage wedged between, he began to drag the heavy thing across you like a fucking ragdoll.
âMmf, fuck. Keep that tongue away,â he huffed, finger pads pressing into your temples, his head tossed back and stray pink tresses sticking to his perspired forehead. The prominent veins bulging on his dick ran lines across your faceânudging the side of your nose, the front of your forehead, his tip leaking into your hairline.
You twitched, hands grabbing at Sukunaâs shorts for something to ground you in reality, your eyes wide as you watched him unravel before you.
âJerk off any quieter, would you?â
You practically jumped out of your skin at the sound of the Tojiâs muffled voice behind the door. He mustâve heard the weights hit the floor. You moved to get away from Sukuna, but the guy only cupped his other hand behind your head, firm grip keeping you in place.
âCome help me out ân maybe I will,â Sukuna sardonically replied with enough sound to send through the shut door, carmine eyes fixing on yours and burning with such a thrill it made your heart stutter.
âOnly if you return the favor,â Toji replied in mild vexation, and you could hear his footfalls retreat down the hallway, just a sliver of your dignity returning before you remembered where you were.
A throaty hum of satisfaction resonated from Sukunaâs chest as he rutted against the flesh of your face, breath hitching with each thrust. Pearly dribbles of seed trailed down your awe-struck face.
âThis better than your last present?â He quirked, not even caring what your response would be. âProbably not,â he answered himself, face contorted in thought and pleasure. âYou were actually able to get off that time.â
And the guy was laughing to himself, as if this entire ordeal was the most humorous thing on Earth.
Your gaze caught on the snarl of his lips, the way his canines pressed into his plush lips, and though it normally wouldâve been an attractive sight, it only had your body quaking in unadulterated fear.Â
You were simply the lamb to his lion, a way to quench the thirst of his lust, and heâd let you crumble while he did so.
Sukunaâs body tensed up as he hit his peak, and you could feel something warm and wet shoot against your tresses, staining into your scalp. He let out a few more grunts, coming down from his harsh high, lashes fluttered shut with contentment as he rode out his climax on your face.
You stilled, every muscle in your body contracted, waiting for his next movement as his seed dripped down your forehead, eyes prickling with tears.
He pulled away, not without slapping his sensitive tip across your tear-stricken cheek. âHope it wasnât hair day,â he sneered, pulling his bottoms over his cock, finished with the job. He moved to his bed, plopping down on the comforter, reaching over for his phone with the kind of casualness that made your stomach lurch.
It took you a few moments, but you gathered your mental bearings to get to your feet and leave his bedroom. Sukuna barely noticed, his jealousy solaced after making a humiliating mess of you.
You had no issue slipping out of the front door that night without a voracious predator clipping at your heels for a taste of your flesh.
After weeks of cold showers and pent up frustration, Med-Intern!Suguru finally gives into his desireâ except his Ghost!Roommate isn't going to let him have the moment alone.
cw: mdni đ, masturbation, edging, praise kink, slight sub!suguru, ghost kink (?)
The apartment was silent when he walked in. Shoulders slumped and jaw tight, he braced himself for something to happen.
Maybe a broken vase or the fridge magnets rearranging themselves into a pentagram. The usual.
But... nothing.
No flickering lights. No static hum in the walls. The chalkboard he'd hung next to the fridge to communicate with his ghostly roommate sat empty. Even the faint scent of lavender that has been haunting his senses like a phantom since he moved into this damned apartment was gone.
Just silence.
Suguru lets out a sigh, long and ragged. He throws his bag and stethoscope somewhere on the couch and drags his feet towards his bedroom.
Clinic duty was hell. Patients spraying their inhalers like perfume, supervisor yelling at him for the third time this week, and long, never-ending shifts. But most of allâ he's pent up. Frustrated. Strung so tightly, he feels like he might snap.
His keys, scrubs and whatever dignity he had left drop somewhere between his couch and the bed. He tugs his boxers with the kind of urgency that makes his cock slap against his stomachâ angry red and achingly hard after months of cold showers and ignoring your wolf-whistles from the bathroom mirror.
But tonightâ tonight, youâre gone.
At least, he thinks you are.
His breath shudders as his thumb brushes the tip, smearing the pre-cum across his sensitive slit. His head falls back with a sigh of relief, hips stuttering up into his palm.
He tries. He really tries. 90s porn magazines that Satoru keeps hidden under his bed. Fleeting exes. Someoneâ anyone else.
But his cruel brain drags him back to you.
Your voice.
That one time you whispered his name, soft and syrupy when he hadn't slept in two days.
"Suguru."
Fuck.
His hand tightens as his hips jerk up into his palm with urgency.
He doesn't know your name. Doesn't know your face. Heck he doesn't even know whether you are actually a ghost or if you're a hallucination caused by sleep depravation.
But he remembers the coffee filter going missing and your feathery soft voice as you scolded him,
"At this rate, you'll die before me."
He remembers the chill down his spine and the sent of lavender curling around his throat like a damn leash every time he showers.
The feeling of being watched.
Always. Intimately. Unapologetically.
And your voiceâ soft, amused like you already knew how badly he wanted it. Taunting him.
How pathetic he was for wanting it from you.
"F-Fuck, you'd love this. Wouldn't you?" he pants, knuckles white as his fist pumps harder. Desperate. Chasing the ghost of your voice like it might grant him salvation. "You'd laughâ probably haunt me forever,"
"Aww you started without me?"
The chill hits his spine like a curse as it snaps straight. The moan dies in his throat. His mind, the sane part, screams at him to cover up. Have some shame. But his cock hardens as if commanded.
Suguru jerks, eyes flying open as the temperature in the room dips several degrees. A breath of cold brushes against his damp hairline, and from somewhere near the dresser, he swears he hears the faintest giggle.
"Fuck you." he snarls, cheeks flushed and hips still rutting into his hand because his self-control died somewhere between hour-thirty and three skipped meals.
"You're so cute when you're needy, Sugu."
Your voice is right by his ear now. Gentle and warm despite the nickname causing goosebumps to crawl all over his skin.
"You're gonna float around and mock me, or actually do something for once?" He growls, raw and ragged. "I swear to godâ"
"Poor thing. You're really worked up, huh?"
He shudders when your phantom fingers trail down his abdomen. Barely-there touches that don't quite exist but his cock doesn't care as it twitches in his hand. Eager and aching.
He chokes out a curse.
"Keep it up. I wanna see what your face looks like when you fall apart."
"F-Fuck. Shit. Shitâ" His strokes are erratic now, desperate. As he gets close, he feels it: the ghost of your touch, the breath on his neck, your voice curling around his ear like silk dipped in arsenic.
"Not yet."
His entire body jerks to a halt.
"Be good."
He whinesâ actually whines. A broken sound ripped out from his throat as his cock pulses angrily in his grip.
His legs tremble. His back arches. Heâs so close, dizzy with the need to come, and youâyour voiceâkeeps dragging him back with nothing but a command.
"Wait for me."
He nearly sobs.
The pressure in his gut is unbearable. His spine is tingling. His balls are tight, aching. His cock twitches violently in his hand, begging for release.
"Please," He rasps, voice hoarse. "Please. I needâ Fuck. I need it."
"Look at you,"
You coo, syrupy sweet voice laced with mock sympathy.
"So messy.. so eager."
Featherlight fingers skim his inner thigh, just enough to make him gasp.
Another handâ colder than his own settles over his. Guiding his strokes. Slow. Teasing. Too slow. His hips jerk upwards into his hand in desperate need of friction. More heat. More you.
"Be good."
You whisper in his ear, voice is sharp.
He bites down on his lip, hard, as he tries to obey. Eyes squeezed shut, sweat dripping down his temple, and mind fracturing under the weight of it all.
He doesn't know what's worseâ the fact that his body listens to your voice or the fact that he wants to. He wants to please a ghost. A whisper. A static touch that sends a jolt down his spine.
He wants to be good. Wants to earn it.
"You've been so patient, haven't you? Just a little longer."
His hips stutter, throat catching on a moan so loud it borders on a sob. Heâs falling apart, ruined by a ghost.
Thenâ
"That's it. Now."
And when he finally breaks, hips jerking up into his own hand, ropes of cum splashing over his stomach and chest, and his entire body seizing from the force of it. His mouth hangs open in a silent gasp and the sound of your voice that guides him back to sanity.
The air humsâ warm and electric as he catches his breath and something featherlight brushes against his temple. Not quite physical, but very real.
"Good boy."
Suguru exhales, boneless and trembling, heart racing like he just ran a code blue.
His hand lifts instinctively, reaching toward where your voice just wasâbut thereâs nothing. No warmth. No breath. Just the buzz of the fridge and the sweat dripping down his chest.
And somewhere near the kitchen, the magnets rearrange themselves once more.
H-A-U-N-T-E-D.
He lets out a soft, breathless laugh.
âYeah,â he mutters, dragging a hand down his flushed face. âNo shit.â
an: this is my first time attempting smut :] this is sort of like a sneak-peek preview thing for this series Iâm working on. let me know how you like it <3
Dividers: @cafekitsune
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